RPG Horror Story Ch. 02

"So Clerics are 'divine' spell casters," Dexter says, explaining basic D&D concepts to me with an exasperated, exhausted tone. He's the DM for this game, and if his current demeanour is any indication it's going to be a shitty time for me. "That means they get their magic from the worship of a god. For you, life domain would be the best choice."

I sit and listen to his disdain clad exposition; I tried to explain that I already know the game pretty well, but they either brush it aside, or just talk over me. It's sort of frustrating. Craig dragged me along to this game. I'm obviously forced to comply. The three other guys sit there, checking me out. One guy, Chaz I think his name was, even sat on the floor so he could look up the very short skirt I was forced to wear here.

The cluttered flat, which I think was Dexter's place, stinks of stale sweat and dog urine. The big, black rottweiler, called Drizzt, was the best thing about the place. Super cute, super friendly. He seemed sad, though. His fur was dirty, and he spent most of the time chained up in the backyard. He sleeps on the cold concrete that is littered with piles of his shit. I feel for him. We were both prisoners in our own way.

The absolute weirdest thing about this group was that they were all cosplaying as their characters. Art was wearing plastic knights armour. He was short and skinny, and I suspect it was meant for children. Craig was playing a bard, again. He had some sort of cloak on, with a flute. Chaz was wearing a leather jerkin over his hooded shirt, it must have been custom made because it fit his large frame extremely well. Dexter, on the other hand, was not in costume. He wore shorts and a white vest. Both stained with I dread to think what.

"She could also be a celestial sorcerer or warlock," Art says, offering in his opinion. Still deciding that I'm going to be a healer.

"They're a bit too advanced for her to play, don't you think?" Dexter says, to which they all nod in unanimous agreement.

"I was actually thinking about playing a Barbarian," I say, taking advantage of the moment of silence.

"You can't be a Barbarian, don't be ridiculous," Dexter scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oh, why not?"

"You're a girl?!" He says, as if the answer should have been obvious, "you should be a healer, or supportive caster."

"Or a rogue, you know how girls love to backstab," Art says, getting a chuckle from everyone but me.

"I play a fighter in the other game we play in, right Craig?" I say, looking at him. Stupidly hoping for a little bit of support.

"I don't care what you play in that casual Crit role fanfic," Dexter snaps, the smugness in his tone is just. Ick. "In MY game, we aim for a bit more realism."

"But there's still magic," I say, pointing out the obvious.

"Of course there's still magic, it's a fantasy game. Fuck Craig, this one is all looks. Do we HAVE to let her play?"

"Trust me guys, give her a few sessions and you won't regret inviting her."

"Fine. Fine. She can stay, but she's playing a life cleric. She can worship Nim-fo, The goddess of sex and fertility."

Craig nudges me, giving me a smirk. "What do you say?"

"Thank you for letting me play, Sir," I say, lowering my head. I can feel my features starting to flush. I wonder if Craig knows it affects me like this, or if he just enjoys tormenting me. Either way, the result is the same. My lips start to moisten.

"Someone get out the crayons and explain character creation to her. Also try to explain what level twelve means."

"It's fine, I know how. Should I roll for stats or do you use standard array or points?"

"Well done, you remembered three things. I'm so impressed. Use whatever, just make sure your wisdom is high. Remember...Wis-dom."

What a condescending asshole. I made the character, I didn't put much effort in as I didn't really expect this to be a particularly deep roleplaying experience for me. Dexter gave me a homebrew item that all the "Nim-fo" clerics have. A slave collar that gives a magical bonus to armour class.

Because, as a surprise to no one, the completely female order of sex obsessed healers are dogmatically banned from covering up. Still, the item itself was overpowered, it basically counted as +3 full plate, with no disadvantage, and I could add my full dex bonus. Ridiculous.

The game went about as terribly as you can expect. They'd start explaining everything to me, ignoring my protests, then bitch at me because they had to explain everything. One of the most frustrating evenings I've ever had.

I was forced to thank them for every patronising, sexist comment they made. Craig made sure of it. Every forced display of gratitude makes me wetter, and by the end of the session, I was actually hoping Craig would use me. A completely fucked up feeling.

I know it's wrong. I hate him. I hate everything he's done to me, everything he's put me through. Yet, at the same time; I can feel myself starting to agree with him. Sometimes a stray thought will pop into my head. This wouldn't be happening if you just fucked him. You could have done it willingly, but since you wanted to feel in control of your body, you needed to be reminded what control actually feels like.

I feel like my true self is dwindling. Being eroded away bit by bit. First my body betrayed me. Making me wet and aroused by the situations he put me in. Giving me amazing orgasms from the most degrading positions. Now I feel like my thoughts are turning against me, too. Maybe it's a defence mechanism. I spend more time in subspace as time goes on. Maybe it's just easier to deal with this on autopilot.

We walk through the door of my flat, although lately it's felt more like our flat. Craigs been there almost every night since he pissed on me and took me in that alley almost two weeks ago. Just thinking about it makes me hate myself, and I do fucking hate myself. More and more with each passing day.

I strip naked and help Craig do the same, then guiding him into the bathroom. I suck his cock while the bath fills, it's not so bad now that I figured out a way to keep him clean. In fact, I'm starting to enjoy the ritual. Like the worthless cum dump that he always knew I was, just like the girls in the stories; I was always a sex slave. I just didn't know it.

I swirl my tongue around his cock as I bob my head on it. Slurping on his head, while my hand on his shaft jerks him off into my mouth. Doing everything I can think of to please him. You see, there's been a new fear creeping into me. Not just "What if he posts that stuff online," but "What if he gets bored of me?" What if I don't please him and he moves on. Everything I've been through, everything I've done will be for nothing.

I lick my way down the shaft and suck his balls into my mouth. He groans; I moan. The shame of enjoying it, or maybe I'm just feeling happy because if he's enjoying it I'm safe for another day. I feel his cock pulsing in my hand, so I quickly move my mouth back to the tip and resume sucking on it. My tongue lapping at the tip, running over the underside of it. Teasing the frenulum until he sprays my mouth with cum. Gasping and moaning; he stumbles, holding onto the sink for balance as I drain him.

I swallow and, after checking the water levels, keep sucking. His spent cock now incredibly sensitive for him, so the movements of my tongue over its surface are intensified. He's starting to swear, telling me what a good cumslut I am. The first words he's said to me since we got here. So far fallen am I, that I no longer need to be ordered to suck cock. I just do it to pass the time for him.

When the bath is ready for him; I kiss his cock and help him to get into the hot water. Placing a wet flannel over his face, I start to clean his body. Starting with his hands and arms; I lather and massage them with his shower gel, getting between his fingers, and scrubbing under his arms. His calves and feet are next, each getting a massage. All the while he reclines back against the bath, grunting sounds of approval and relaxation.

I wash each part of him with dedication, the task is almost meditative for me. It's certainly in my best interests to carry it out thoroughly. I take special care to clean his cock, balls, and ass extremely carefully. All three find themselves in very close proximity to my mouth, and I've learned the hard way that he isn't going to give my experience any consideration at all. So it's up to me to make him enjoy these parts being cleaned.

Now that he's washed and clean; I leave him to soak in the bath while I prepare dinner. I did try to feed him healthier foods, but he's only interested in junk. That does, at least, make it easier for me. I slide the frozen pizza into the oven, along with the garlic bread and set everything to cook, while I eat the oats I left in the fridge this morning.

He said I'm only allowed to eat porridge from now on, so I've been making it with my vanilla protein powder to meet my macros. I'm really hungry, though. All the time. My caloric deficit isn't great. Not to mention how boring it is to eat the same thing all the time. He even switched my toothpaste to a flavourless brand. I find myself looking forward to him using my mouth, so I can taste something else. Another reason to feel ashamed, compounded by his laughter as I hungrily guzzle it down.

I'm so tired. Tired of feeling hungry, tired of feeling trapped. Tired of thanking my rapist for each abuse, each humiliation. I'm most tired of craving it. Just sucking his cock, or letting him fuck me, or kissing his feet, or letting him do whatever he wants. I don't have a choice, he's forcing me. I just want to know why I feel so fucking good when he does it.

Even now, while he soaks in the bath. I'm realising that his pizza won't be ready for another fifteen minutes, and I'm wondering if I should suck his cock again while he waits. It hasn't been long since the last one, so he might not be recovered. I should start to get him out of the bath and ready to eat, though. So I place my bowl in the sink and walk back into the bathroom.

I spread a towel onto the floor for him to stand on, and holding another one; I kneel on the floor. Reaching up to move the flannel off of his face. "Pizza will be ready soon, Master." I say, as I raise the towel to him, like a squire holding a knight's sword.

He pulls himself up out of the bath and stands on the floor towel, water cascading off of his large, hairy body. I lean forward and kiss his feet, then wipe each one with the towel in my hand. Sliding up each leg, guiding them open as I carefully mop up the water that clings to his body. His cock twitches as I dry it, so I kiss it. Sucking it back into my mouth as I cup the towel around his balls and dry inside his ass crack.

I move my hands up to dry his body, but I don't want to take his cock from my mouth. It's growing in my mouth as I suck it. My tongue welcoming it back with that shameful enthusiasm that confuses me so much. He takes the towel from me and finishes drying himself while I blow him, moving my free hands to his cock and balls respectively. Jerking and teasing as I pick up the pace. His cock swelling and pulsing as I press my tongue against it. Sliding his cock over it with each motion of my head. He moans. I moan. I'm so fucking happy that he's enjoying me.

I can feel how close he is but then he pushes my head off, placing his balls in my open mouth. "You're really fucking good at that," he says, as I lick at his balls, slurping and sucking each one into my mouth. "I have noticed how you've been putting more effort into them lately. I was thinking you deserve a reward, what do you think?"

I don't answer. I'm not supposed to answer. I just look up at him with my tongue circling his balls, waiting to be given an order. I wonder what sort of reward I'll get? I consider the possibilities as my tongue explores his sack. I can't help but let out little soft whimpers as the taste of them fills my mouth. His freshly cleaned balls tasting so delicious to my bored tongue, starved of any excitement but him.

I look up at him expectantly; not just waiting for his response, but to check if he's enjoying me. I want to see some sign of acceptance, some indication that I'm safe for another moment, another day; hoping that he won't abandon me. I fear he'll post my shame for all to see if I don't please him, if I stop exciting him.

He looks down at me, watching me worship his balls. Smirking as he feels my tongue salivating over him, exploring around the dangling sack of my servitude. He makes a show of thinking, tapping his chin, making "hmmm" sounds as I whimper and moan into him. His cock, hard and twitching, rests on my face. I know he was close, I've learned the signs. He has a purpose behind this.

"I'll tell you what; You record a little vid for me and my friends, and you can have a nice soak in the bath," he says, lightly stroking my hair. "Make it good; show them what a good whore you are."

"Mhmmm," I moan to show my understanding, and I suppose my agreement. A bath does sound lovely; I've had nothing but cold showers for weeks, so even a soak in his leftover bath water is an exciting prospect. I give each of his balls a small kiss, before moving my mouth away. "Thank you, Master. May I please take your pizza out of the oven?"

"Ha. I almost forgot about that," He gives me a pat on the head, "good cum dump. You may put it next to the sofa for me."

"Thank you, Master." I rise to my feet and walk to the kitchen with a slight urgency to my step. The pizza was almost ready when I went to get him out of the bath and that was a blowjob ago. I turn the oven off and pull out the slightly browned pizza. I think a slight browning to the cheese is fine; it tastes better that way. I only hope Master agrees, as I slice the pizza on a plate and place it next to the sofa.

I pick up his camera on the way back. He bought a new one recently, an expensive looking one. He said the quality of the phone camera he'd been using was okay, but he really wanted to capture my degradation in 4K. I am constantly reminded of the high quality of the footage, as after every little home movie we record he plays it back to me, making sure to zoom in on every look, every hint of shame in my eyes as I perform for him and his incel subculture.

I return to the bathroom and kneel in front of him again; raising the camera for him to take. He grabs it and rests his dick on my face again as he fiddles with the buttons. I instinctively start to lick him again, getting my tongue around the sack, flicking at his taint; he moans as I do this, and I'm pretty sure I hear him mutter "Good whore." I wish I could tell you it didn't make me feel amazing to hear it. I wish I could tell you I didn't desperately press my face further between his legs in a pathetic attempt to please him.

"This is what you're going to do," he says, opening his legs to give me access. He places a hand on my head, tilting my face up so we make eye contact. "You're going to convince me to let you eat my ass. Beg for it. Plead for it. Really fucking debase yourself. I want them pissing themselves while they jerk off. Leave no doubt in anyone's mind, not even your own; You are a worthless cum dump, and this was always what you were meant to do. If you don't do a good enough job I'm going to give everything I have to one of your "fans" and let them hold your leash. I bet they won't be as kind as I am. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master. Thank you for giving me such clear instructions," I tell him, trying to come to terms with the new fear he just unlocked in me. I was afraid he'd get bored and ruin my life for fun, or out of spite. I hadn't even considered the fact that I could get traded away like a Pokemon card. He who holds the nudes, controls the Joss. Oh fuck that's a terrifying thought. Terrifying, and fuck me if it doesn't make me horny.

Imagining them playing some online PVP game, the winner gets the sex slave for the week. I'm being passed around the country, doing my duty to show the incel community what they've been missing. Being raped and degraded for sport, until they've all had a turn. I wonder what will come next? Branch out to other groups? Perhaps I'd give public seminars on why I, and other girls, deserve it, and then get raped by the attendees.

"We're rolling," Craig says, standing above me aiming the camera down. His dick still hard and resting on my face; his balls still on my swirling tongue. I start to think about the most degrading things I can do, the most demeaning. I need to put on a show for him, for them, for my fans. I have fans now. I wonder if they'd want to rape me too. I think I'd like that; I think I deserve that.

"Please, Master," I begin my debasement, "please can I lick your ass?"

I look up at the camera as I resume sucking his balls for them to see. I move a hand to his cock, pressing it into my face, which is bobbing slightly as I worship him. It's almost as if I'm jerking him off with, and on, my face. I can see his smirk, so I start to whine and moan as I do it. Making the most desperate, eager sounds I can.

"Please, Master. Pretty please? I've been such a good girl, you said so yourself. You said I could have a reward, and there's only one thing I want. Only one thing I need. I need to taste your asshole. I need to worship your ring."

I lean down and start to kiss his feet. I place multiple very quick, almost frantic kisses on each one. "Please." I say between each kiss. "Please...Please...Please. Master, I need it. Please let me."

He hasn't given me permission yet, so I know I haven't gone far enough. I start to rack my brain for ideas, for inspiration. "I'll do a good job," I say as I slowly lick his foot, trying to demonstrate my tongue technique for him between his toes. He moves the camera for a better view, this means he likes this. It means he approves.

"It'll be the best rimjob you've ever had, I promise. It'll be so good; you'll have to retroactively punish me for half assing all the other times I've done it, once you see how good it could have been. Please, Master. Let me show you how good every rimjob you get from now on is going to be. Let me taste my perfect Master, let me show you my gratitude."

He's smiling, but he still hasn't said the words. I need to do more, go further. "I'm literally begging you, Master. Please let me eat your ass. I'm useless in every other way, I have nothing to give you except for pleasure. No way to show you how much I appreciate your guidance. You showed me; you showed everyone that I was a cum dump. Nothing but a receptacle for men to enjoy.

Not only that, Master. You taught me how much I can enjoy it. You saw in me my potential, you believed in me when no one else had the courage to tell me what must have seemed obvious. I deserve to be raped, it's my purpose, my calling. Let me thank you, please."

I look up at him, and the camera. He still hasn't given me the order, which means it still isn't good enough. Fuck. It's not good enough. How long is this video going to be? If time runs out, and I still haven't tasted ass; Will he really give my nudes to his website? Wait a minute. They already have my nudes, if they were going to share them they would have. Why haven't they? Why no threats? Why has no one else tried to coerce me?

"Please, Master. I know I'm worthless, and stupid, but my tongue, Master. My tongue could be of use." I lick up his leg back to his balls. They are still slick with my previous worship, I rub them all over my face while I ruminate on the problem.

They can't have the links to my socials. That's the only reason why, or at least the only one I can think of. Craig changed the images when he took control, cropping my face out of the pictures. They were now all focused on my cleavage or my butt. He's been protecting me this whole time. He does care about me.