Roommate Surprise

Connie came back to the bed, leaving Marsha's legs flat for now. Marsha felt a twinge of disappointment. There was something peculiarly arousing about watching her legs get pulled up and wide outside of her control. Every time it had happened, Connie had done something to her lady parts that added to her sexual excitement. Only a few hours in, and already her psyche was being subtly programmed to look forward to being forcibly spread.

Working one hand and then the other, Connie forced a small wad of foam rubber into Marsha's palms, winding white athletic tape loosely around her fingers. Her hands were trapped in loose fists with her fingers and thumbs immobilized, useless for gripping anything. From a drawer, she brought out a sturdy-looking set of stocks. The central ring was locked around her neck, and the two inescapable cuffs were locked around her wrists. Her upper body was now free of the headboard, but her arms were still pinned in a spread-open position.

Connie flipped a new switch on the headboard. The upper portion of the mattress began to rise up. It continued up until her torso was supported in an upright, slightly reclined position. Her legs remained pinned together at the bottom, so she was seated comfortably, now looking directly at the TV.

Connie held an odd little contraption in her hand as she instructed Marsha, "I need to get this different gag into your mouth. When I remove your ball gag, I'll need your full cooperation. No yelling. No speaking. No biting. I'll give you several minutes to relax your jaw. It's probably pretty sore by now. One peep, and I'll just shove the ball back in. Got it?"

Marsha nodded yes. Connie used a finger on each side and pulled the ball forward out of Marsha's mouth. Marsha said urgently, "Connie! Please! I didn't mean to... um, mom, mom!"

Connie had let go of the bungee cord at the front of Marsha's mouth. The bungee cord pulled the ball home without effort. Connie reached down with both hands and pinched Marsha's nipples hard. "I did say no speaking, right?"

Marsha nodded in the affirmative. She was groaning at the pain. Connie let go and produced a set of nipple clamps, clamping them onto Marsha's sensitized nipples and tightening them partially. Connie attended the laptop, mumbling to herself, "Let's see. What can we find here? Hmm, no... No, not that. Ah, here we go. Cool, they have an entire section devoted to breast torture." (She was unaware that one of these had already been served up mid-afternoon during Random Play.)

The first video opened up in a medical office. An obese woman had enormous, fat, and saggy breasts, one of which was being smashed in a medical breast exam machine. The doctor was obviously an actor, and not a very good one at that. He took an image, examined the screen, shook his head no, smashed the tit further, and took another picture. The patient was complaining, but she had been strapped onto the machine and was forced to endure her annual exam. "That's a good start," said Connie idly.

Connie produced a web cage that looked a bit like a harness from a bicycle helmet. The main band went around Marsha's head at temple level with two vee straps clipped under her chin. Connie put it over Marsha's head and tightened all the padded straps securely. Attached to the top of the rig was a sturdy plastic handle, like for carrying luggage. Someone with a good hold on that handle would have complete control of Marsha's head and upper body. A tail strap dangled from the back. Connie pulled the tail strap back, fastening it to a ring on the mattress. This held her head back against the mattress, looking directly forward at the newly organized video queue.

"The next time you agree to something, you'd better be honest and true to your word. These nipple clamps are just the beginning." Connie poured herself another glass of wine, tightened the nipple clamps a bit more, and left the room.

Marsha tried closing her eyes a couple of times, but the self-visualizing images and the cries of pain through the earbuds invaded her thoughts. She ended up watching multiple women get their tits variously mauled, bitten, tied, slapped, whipped, stretched, tattooed, and pierced. Several of the women were not in bondage and seemingly offered their tits up willingly for abuse. Largely, though, the women were in bondage, and often the scenes appeared non-consensual.

Connie returned after quite a few videos had played out. She was chewing a wad of gum loudly. She got right in Marsha's face and asked, "Can I trust you to stay quiet and cooperative this time? No yelling, no speaking. You do everything I say. Promise? The nipple clamps stay on until I'm sure you can keep quiet."

Marsha nodded her head anxiously, trying to be obviously affirmative. Connie pulled the gag out and let it drop around Marsha's neck. Marsha rolled her jaw around and unconsciously moaned softly. Connie pressed a finger across Marsha's lips in a hush gesture, letting the unintentional sound slide. Connie removed the nipple clamps. Marsha took in a sharp inhale as the blood returned to her nipples, but stayed otherwise obediently quiet.

Connie took the chewing gum from her mouth and pushed it into Marsha's. "Chew on this. It'll help your jaw relax." Marsha appreciated the sweet, minty flavor and allowed herself to enjoy this small token.

Connie had left the breast torture videos running. She pulled up a chair to watch, sipping wine and letting Marsha move her jaw silently. After a bit, Connie got bored. She closed Marsha's laptop, which switched the video stream off, and pulled the ear buds out. She told Marsha, "Keep chewing that gum while I get you something to drink. Take a moment to think about something. I'll give you a chance to make one statement and ask one question. That's all. Anything more, and the clamps go back on your tender nipples. Nod once if you agree."

Marsha gave an abbreviated nod with her head. The harness was still wrapped around her skull, keeping motion to a minimum.

"Good girl." Connie retrieved a bottle of water from the kitchen. She popped the top and had Marsha spit the gum directly into her own mouth during a long French kiss. She gave Marsha a small sip and had her swallow. Several more small sips followed. Each was swallowed. Connie was satisfied Marsha wasn't going to choke and helped Marsha down the entire bottle of water. She went to the kitchen to get two bottles of high-protein nutrition drinks. Marsha drank both, thankful for something in her stomach.

Connie said, "OK, now you get to say something and ask something."

Marsha blurted out, "Please, Connie! I'm so sorry! Why are you doing this?"

"Stop!" Connie barked, holding up the ball menacingly, which shut Marsha up. "First, your statement. Your apology is accepted. The answer to your question is more complex. The short answer is because I have to. I have no choice. Michael told me to. I am his sex slave, and I always do as I'm told. Here, open your mouth so I can fit this new gag in. I'll give you the full explanation while I put it in place. It'll take a few tries to get the fit right. I'll have to make some adjustments here and there. In the end, you'll like it more than that crude old ball gag. Ball gags are quick and quite picturesque. But this rig is more comfortable for longer periods."

Connie continued to calmly talk about her own relationship with Mike, how she had gotten here, and gave a preview of what Marsha could expect. While she talked, she fit this odd contraption into Marsha's mouth. The structure was made of hardened stainless steel. Most of it, those parts that rested against Marsha's flesh, were covered in a flesh-colored plastic coating that didn't irritate. Where it actually touched her teeth, it was made of a solid, supple rubber. It was designed to be worn for extensive periods and be relatively comfortable.

Connie launched into the long-form explanation, "I said that I was Michael's sex slave, and that is a true fact. There is nothing I can change about it, even if I wanted to. Which I don't. When this is all done, you will be Randy's sex slave. Given your current inability to escape, there is nothing you can do to prevent it. And when it is done, you'll be as pleased about your new life as I am about mine. Open wide, and remember, don't say anything. Lift your tongue."

Marsha opened her mouth. Somewhat in disbelief, but also in fearful obedience. Her head was trussed up and immobilized; she had no choice. Connie slipped the complex, curved collection of stainless steel rods inside and pressed it against the lower part of her mouth, below the tongue. She pulled it back out to make adjustments. "I've worn this device many times, sometimes for a week at a time. I need to adjust it to fit your larger mouth. Don't worry, it's not so bad once you get used to it. I imagine Mike will hand you over to Randy, still wearing it. It works well for oral training."

"Like I told you, Mike and Randy served two tours in Afghanistan. The first tour was with the Army Rangers. Their second tour was as private security contractors, doing things the military needed to deny any knowledge about. They killed people, they delivered arms, and they blew stuff up in dodgy circumstances. During that second tour, they were sent out to the far northeastern end of the country. Way out where China, Tajikistan, Pakistan, and Afghanistan all meet. Mike and Randy were trained in some obscure language, Wakhi, or something like that. They still use it when they want to keep secrets. It's only spoken by this obscure band of nomadic goat herders. These people live without borders. They consider themselves citizens of no nation. They migrate across the wild lands over an area the size of Colorado, moving their herds around as they have for thousands of years. Gehngis Khan knew about them, stole a few goats, and otherwise left them alone. So did the Russions. They live without electricity or running water. They think Mohammed was a fool. They've heard of Christianity but have no idea what it's about. Instead, they keep to their own primitive religion. Hear, try this."

Connie tried the fit again, examining closely, moving the contraption about, and trying more adjustments. "Mike and Randy were to forge an alliance with these people against a supposed common enemy. They lived with them for over two years, gaining their trust. Their mission was unsuccessful. They learned that, ultimately, these people didn't want to be anybody's allies. They just wanted to herd their goats and raise their families."

Connie extracted the gizmo and continued adjusting: "They lived in small tribal units spread out across vast distances. Often, individual families or small groups lived in isolation without seeing anyone else for months. To keep the tribe going and to keep the gene pool strong, females were married off at the age of 18 to males aged 20. Pairings were decided by the tribal elders. Fertile young women were used as bargaining chips to settle debts or forge alliances. Normally, a marriageable woman was traded out to a distant tribe, a girl for a girl. Each woman took a kid goat with her as a token of appreciation for accepting her. Traditionally, the bride and groom never met before the wedding day. A woman sent off to marry might never see her birth family ever again."

"In Wahki society, boys are raised by an uncle and have very little contact with their fathers. At age 18, a young man is invited to watch his uncle service his wife for the next two years. He learns the expected way to treat a bride. They also observe how the uncle's wife acts, her subservience, and her willingness to do anything to please her husband. This way, when they obtain their own wife, they are not hesitant to take control. Being in charge comes naturally to a young Wahki male. Thousands of years of structured breeding have selected male dominance. That same selective breeding has ensured that the women are all of uncanny beauty and able to bear many babies."

"Pre-marriage girls, on the other hand, are only trained in the standard household duties, like cooking, cleaning, raising children, etc. They are isolated from any sexual contact or knowledge. It is assumed they will learn everything they need to know about how to please their husband on their wedding night. The impressionable younger men have watched their uncles service their aunts, while the young women are traditionally kept ignorant about the ways of marriage. The wedded bride completes her domestic education under the firm hand of her new aunt-in-law. Of course, the aunt-in-law's training regimen includes strict sexual subservience. A new couple's first few months are spent in the adult yurt, attended by the uncle and aunt. The aunt-in-law closely monitors the bride's performance to ensure she satisfies her new husband's every desire. The uncle also observes and gives the new couple additional pointers. All this takes place in the open, so any expectation of privacy during sex is driven from the young bride. An adult Wahki female is to be sexually available to her husband at all times, regardless of circumstances."

"A young couple lives with the uncle's family until their first child is weaned. After that, they take a small seed herd of goats and move out on their own. Being controlled by someone else her entire life is natural for a Wahki female. Again, generations of tribally controlled selective mating have bred women who live to serve their assigned husbands."

"During family life, often the men have to leave with the herd for weeks at a time or longer. Women might be separated from their husbands for months. In other societies, there would always be a chance that unattended females might wander from the marital path. Faithless brides are stoned to death. Harsh, yes, and the punishment can leave orphaned children. It is not good for society. These people needed glue to hold their families together. Let's try again."

Connie tried the fit one more time. She was using this tiny wrench to make the adjustments. "They needed some way to make sure the young brides would accept and love their husbands, a man they had never met. And they needed a way to ensure the wives stayed faithful when the men were away. Some shamans, in their distant past, discovered a potion. It was made from the dried flowers of a rare plant that grows only in a specific altitude band in one specific desert mountain range in the region. Mixed with the white alkaline soil of a certain dry lake bed, it makes a potent tea. This tea is administered to the young brides as part of the wedding ceremony. After one night, these women become bonded for life to their husbands.... Um, this should do. Open wider."

Connie tried the gag contraption one last time. Satisfied with the fit, she left it in Marsha's mouth. Using the special wrench, she fixed it in place. The device spanned the lower jaw inside Marsha's mouth. It reached from left to right underneath the tongue. It gripped firmly but painlessly on the lower teeth. On either side, it held hard rubber blocks between the upper and lower teeth. Locked into place, it could not be removed without the key wrench. The rubber blocks kept her jaw wedged open. Her tongue was free to move naturally. She could open her jaw a little wider than the blocks and move her lower jaw around, but she would not be able to close her mouth.

With no external attachments, her lips draped naturally, and the spreader gag couldn't be seen. The contraption lifted her tongue and pushed it forward to lie on her lower lip. It looked like she was simply holding her mouth open in a surprised 'O' pose with her tongue ready to lick or taste something. Full time. She would be able to drink fluids but not chew anything solid. She would be able to talk, but her speech would be garbled and nearly unintelligible. She could scream as loud as she wanted, but only when granted permission. She could pucker her lips and wiggle her tongue well enough to pleasure a cock, but she would never be able to bite down on one or refuse its entry. If the situation was right, she could live for months or even years like this.

Connie gave her strict instructions: "While you are wearing this gag, you may speak only when spoken to. If you say anything disrespectful or disagreeable, you will be punished. You are allowed to grunt and moan like a whore, if you like. But words must be positive and constructive. Those nipple clamps are only the beginning of what can be done to you. Do you understand?" Connie cocked her finger with her thumb and gave a sharp snap to Marsha's left nipple.

Marsha twitched at the sharp pain. She nodded and said a single word, "Yes." Indeed, her speech was garbled, but the single-word response was understandable. She sounded like she was talking with a walnut in her mouth. She was fearful of the clamps, so she said nothing more.

Connie flattened the bed, motored Marsha's legs up and apart, switched up the anal trainer, and lowered the legs again. Continuing her history lesson, "Mike and Randy fully realized the power of this wedding tea. They had seen the results for themselves. The Wahki wives were obedient and faithful to their husbands. Yet they seemed as happy and free as any woman from the developed world, maybe even happier. So before their mission ended, they each gathered a generous supply of flowers and some of the alkali lake bed dirt to bring back with them. Keeping it completely secret between the two of them, they have used it to collect their own small harems for personal use."

"I am just one of Michael's harem wives, his third. Mike has five women that he has used the wedding potion on. He refers to all of us as his wives. Randy has different sexual tastes than Mike. It takes more girls to satisfy him. His current harem has seven girls in it. You've seen all of them. They come to the gym. We call them the BB-gang, the Blonde Bombshells. They all belong to him. You are going to be his eighth harem slave. To Randy, his girls are all just interchangeable sluts. He doesn't have any use for wives. Romantic intimacy is not his thing. He just wants a variety of sluts to fuck."

"I know just what you are thinking. The question you wish you were allowed to ask is, 'How can that be?' I'm sure you are saying to yourself, 'There's no way I am going to voluntarily be turned into somebody's sex slave.' I am here to tell you that, in the same way that I was given no choice, you will have no choice. It is going to happen. I am going to help Mike and Randy do it for you. I could set you free right here right now, but I won't. I can't. And when it's done, you'll be happier than you've ever been in your life. Like I said, someday you'll thank me."

"It's the flower, the tea. You will drink it whether you want to or not. Your mouth is wedged open. Randy can simply pour it down your throat and pinch your nose until you swallow. Or he could slip a tube down your throat and bypass the need for swallowing. Either way, your fate is sealed. By tomorrow night, you will be a sex slave. Forcing a drug on someone without their permission is clearly illegal. That won't stop him, and I guarantee you won't turn him in. I know it doesn't seem rationally possible. None of us know how it works. There will be no university study on its effects. There are no FDA guidelines on dosage or safe use. But I can offer a guess on how it works. I can describe my experience taking it. Or rather, I can describe what it felt like after Mike slipped it into my drink. And I can give you a preview of what your life is going to be like, assuming Randy does his usual thing."

"This flower and the drug it produces somehow affect the brain's neural connectivity. While the drug is in your system, it renders the nervous system selectively elastic. Er, no. Plastic. Elastic implies something goes back to its original state. With the drug, key parts of the nervous system become malleable and moldable to outside influences. Then, when the drug is metabolized and flushed out by the liver and kidneys, the brain becomes solid again, but in a new shape. The mind becomes fixed around a new set of, oh, I don't know. I guess I'd call it new operating procedures. I have a whole new set of rules in my mind that cannot be broken, no matter how hard I try. My brain has been rewired."