RPG Horror Story Ch. 02

"M-Master?" I ask, hoping for a response.

I hear them step behind me and the next thing I know is my head is slammed into the floor. I hear the sound of a belt unbuckling and trousers being unzipped. I struggle against the cuffs but I know it's useless. I feel a cock probing my shamefully wet cunt, I moan as it slides up and down my slit.

"Say the words," an unfamiliar voice commands me. It's not Master, but Master must have known. This must be his plan. He left me here. I'm a gift. Master left me here to be used by whomever this is.

"I deserve to be raped," I say, and immediately the cock slams into me. I moan as he takes me. Thrusting hard and fast. Frantically fucking my cunt. Who is he? Does Master know him? Is he one of my so-called fans? I struggle with these questions as his hard cock invades me. "You. Fucking. Love. It," he grunts at me. Each word punctuated by his hips slamming into mine.

I should run, but I don't. I should fight, but I deserve this. Each of his animated thrusts push my face into the floor. My pinned hands make it impossible to protect it. I kneel in the dark feeling nothing but my position of worship, and the vigorous use of my cunt. I can't help but moan along with him as he drags me closer to orgasm.

I hear him start to grunt louder and his thrusts start to slow down. His finger nails dig into my hips as he pulls my body into him, these final thrusts demanding to be as deep in me as they can be. I feel him pulsing and spraying his load into my receptacle. I moan in disappointment as he pulls himself out of me, leaving my cunt feeling empty, and aching for more.

I hear the sounds of his trousers fastening, and some other similar noises. Fabric sliding over fabric. A zip being undone and something being placed on the floor beside me. "Here's the stuff LadiesMan69 ordered," the stranger says, and I hear his footsteps walking towards the front door.

"Thank you for raping me," I say, partly because I know I'm being recorded, and Master will punish me if I don't say it. There is a new feeling in me. Not one of fear, or compliance. An alien feeling, something I never thought I would actually experience. I feel gratitude. Some part of me actually means it when I thank him. He stops walking away after I say that, and after a few moments he turns around. His footsteps growing closer once more.

He doesn't say anything as he walks past me, exploring my little flat. "Hey?!" I shout as he starts to rummage through the drawers and cupboards. My protests don't seem to bother him at all. I hear him enter the bedroom and start rummaging around in there. I consider trying to stop him, but I can't even take this blindfold off without help. Even if I could get into the bedroom; I couldn't exactly grab him with my hands cuffed.

I sit and listen to the sounds of his continued violation of my privacy. My heart is pounding. I'm terrified to think about what he's doing. What he's planning. He leaves the bedroom and drops something beside me, and heads toward the kitchen. I can hear the sounds of him opening cupboards and drawers. He then opens the fridge, after which I hear water being poured into something and the fridge being closed.

I can't imagine this is what Master planned. He must be over stepping. He comes back to me and I hear the sound of tape being readied. Whatever it was that he dropped beside me, is now being taped to my leg. It doesn't take me long to realise that he's found my wand, and the tape is to prevent me from shaking it free. The next thing I experience is a slightly soft point being pressed into my skin. He's writing on me.

I have no idea what, but he spends a solid five minutes drawing over my stomach, and chest. I'm pretty sure he draws an arrow toward my face. When he's done he pulls my face to his and gives me a disgusting kiss, before whispering in my ear. "I know your name now, Josslyn Taylor. If you don't do as I say, the whole group will know."

"Please don't tell them," I beg, fully aware that it won't help me at all. Master should have seen this coming. Did he really think one of his online buddies would just come in, fuck me, and then leave?

"Don't worry, I'm not an idiot like Ladiesman. He's lucky you're you. You're very special, Josslyn, I mean that. That chump has no idea how to use you."

"What do you mean? I'm special?"

"Any other girl would have gone to the police, even if he did share what he had at the start, it would have been easy to get that scrubbed. I think you knew that. I know you knew that. That's why we all love you so much, Josslyn. Because despite appearances, you do actually, genuinely, enjoy everything that is happening to you. Don't you?"

"No, I...I couldn't. How could I?"

"No, I get it. You have to think that. You'll realise it soon, trust me. Now, I'm going to keep your name secret, but I want you to do something for me. Okay?"

"I have nothing you can't just take. What else could you possibly want from me?"

"I'm going to leave soon. You'll be all alone. I just want you to keep your mouth open until LadiesMan get's back. Can you do that for me, Josslyn?"

"If I do, you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Not a soul."

"I'll do it, Sir. I'll keep my mouth open."

"What will you do if someone puts a cock in it?" He says, turning on the wand.

"Mmmm. Suck it, sir."

"You see, Josslyn. You're special. Do this for me, and I promise to keep your name secret."

"Thank you, Sir."

I kneel there after he leaves. I think the bastard left the door open. I want to close it but the live stream means Master will know if I move. I'll be punished. I sit there in abject terror. Every footstep I hear outside my door, echoing around the stairs, fills me with dread. Praying that my neighbours don't see me like this. Hoping that they do. I struggle to kneel upright again, as I wait patiently for Master to arrive and free me.

I wonder if he's close by, watching me get raped on the live stream. I wonder how Master feels about the strangers cum that's currently leaking out of me. My cunt spasms as the wand mercilessly continues its work. Positioned so carefully over my clit. I could move, but I was told not to. I don't want to. The moans fall out of my open mouth. I try to repress them, but there's only so much I can do without closing my mouth.

I don't know how long I'm waiting before I hear some heavy footsteps approaching. Whomever it is is climbing the stairs. They are breathing heavily. I hear them start to move up the next flight. I moan. They stop. Are they listening? Did they notice the door? I have to keep quiet. I need to stay hidden. I'm so close. I need to fight it. I have to fight it.

I hear the footsteps again. They're softer, moving neither closer or farther. Whomever it is turned around. I whimper. Trying to fight back the sounds of my impending orgasm. No way to stop the wand. Fighting a losing battle. The harder I fight, the worse it's going to be. The longer I stay teetering over the edge, the more powerful the fall will be. I'm squeaking and holding back the cries. My eyes clenched tight under the blindfold. My fingers squeezing into my hands as I clench my fists in protest. The futility of my struggle is obvious. Even to me. Especially to me.

Then it happens. My resistance fails. The dam breaks. Ecstasy. I groan unrestrained as the wand forces me beyond my brink. The overwhelming sensations ripple through me, as the fluttering in my stomach becomes an almost violent shaking in my legs. I can't help but fight against the restraints. My vision blurs and fades. My mind is blank. I can't focus on anything except the continued unrelenting delight the unchecked wand presses into me.

I continue to revel in my jubilation. I writhe in the prolonged pleasure as my primal praise promotes my presence. My moans continue unabashed and unabated until a cock fills my mouth and somewhat silences me. I didn't hear them approach. I don't know who they are. I know that their cock is getting harder in my mouth, and I know I have a job to do. I moan around it and eagerly begin to suck it.

My tongue presses against the strange dick that felt entitled to enter me. It was entitled to enter me. I swirl it around the tip, lapping up the first drips of his excitement. Groaning as the delicious precum meets my tongue and I taste him. The anticipation of his climax fills my attention. Consuming my focus. I start to move my head. Dragging my lips and tongue along the full length of his cock. Starting at the very tip, letting my lips kiss it. My tongue lapping around it like I'm french kissing it, before I push it back into my mouth, the tip cresting my gullet.

I pull back and repeat. Faster. Deeper. I gag a little as I frantically push him into me. Desperate to please him as the wand continues to please me. He places his hand on my head as I pleasure him. He doesn't force me, he's just holding me. Guiding me. It feels like approval, so I try harder. I feel his cock swelling. He's moaning. It pulses and finally spurts my reward into my mouth. I let the wand push me into another orgasm to match his.

I relish his moans as he sprays into my mouth. The grip on my head tightens as I continue to suck and lick him. Sucking out as much of his gift as I can get. I need it. I want it. It's my duty and his right. He groans and pulls his cock from my lips. I moan in disappointment at the emptiness of my mouth, and swallow. "Thank you for raping me."

"What do you mean rape? Is this a set up?" The unknown voice says, I hear him step back. He seems more concerned about getting in trouble than with my safety.

"It's not a setup, sir. I deserve to be raped," I say to reassure him. The mantra I have all too much practice saying.

"So you did want it?" He says, seeming to relax.

"It doesn't matter... mmmm... what I want, sir," I say, the wand interrupting my train of thought.

"So this is okay?" He says, resting his balls in my mouth. I immediately begin to suck them. My tongue lapping the sweat off them. I realise now how deep I am. The wand is keeping me subservient. Keeping me in a constant state of intense arousal. I don't even care that this is probably one of my neighbours. I don't care how sweaty his balls are. All I give a fuck about right now is that he is groaning happily as I worship him.

"You won't call the police?" He asks, pressing his hips toward me. Rubbings his sweaty taint over my tongue.

"Never, sir," I say, trying to interrupt my worship as little as possible.

"So I can just use you whenever I feel like it?"

"Don't ask me. Rape me," I tell him. I'm aware of the words I'm saying, but I can't seem to stop myself from saying them. I continue to dig my own grave, knowing that my 'fans' are watching. They're probably loving every minute of it. Every debauched thing I say. Everything I do. I think about them making clips of me. Sharing them around their friends. On similar themed forums. My lewdness is probably well known among their circles, perhaps even starting to break into similar communities.

How long will it be before the Master's leash is irrelevant? How long before there are viral clips of me asking to be raped? What will happen then? I'll be ruined completely, with no chance to escape. No way to change my fate. I'll be laughed at, spat on, looked down on. People won't see me as a person anymore, just that pathetic girl who begged to be raped. Of course, that's just the normal people.

There's a lot of people out there, mostly men I'd imagine, who will relish the thought of an open invitation to my body. I'll be grabbed and taken at their whim. Fucked and brutalised without a single thought to my wishes. To my well being. To my autonomy. My privacy will be shattered. My career options will be completely gone. I'll have nothing. I'll be nothing. Fuck. I am nothing.

I have this epiphany of my inevitable ruination with a mouthful of a stranger's balls and a wand driving me to another orgasm. Every time it forces another from me, it's more potent than the last. My fantasies and fears merge together in my mind until I'm no longer sure what it is I'm wishing for. Was it the dream of rape? The fantasy of having control taken from me? Or was I always hoping to be in this position.

"Hey, it's me. Listen, stop whatever you're doing and come down to the sixth. Trust me. No no no, you will kick yourself if you miss this. You know that girl you have the hots for? Yeah, that one. I'm in her flat. Bring them too. I'm fucking serious. For fucks sake, listen to this...Girl, tell them what you told me."

I feel a phone being placed against my cheek so I let the balls out of my mouth. The wand still vibrating against me draws out more moans now my mouth isn't muffled by sack. I hear a voice say "what the fuck?"

"Please come downstairs. Please rape me," I say in my state of euphoria. The phone is moved from my face and I move my mouth back to his balls. My awareness fades in and out as I cum again, but I'm vaguely aware of them excitedly discussing me. They're happy with me. I am special. This is what makes me special. Being used. Giving pleasure. I deserve to be raped because I'm special. I cum again. My body rewarding my realisations as I hear frantic footsteps sprinting down the stairs.

I feel the balls being dragged from my mouth. I don't close it, but I do try to chase after them. I can't help but moan again as the wand and failure hit me. I sit upright again and open my mouth wide, letting the sounds of my fifth, or is it the sixth, orgasm free to advertise my presence. I want more people to see me. To use me. I want them to know my mouth is available.

The newcomers exchange greetings with my first neighbourhood user. I notice that they are careful not to use their names, perhaps to avoid identification should I change my mind. They still seem to think what I want matters. I writhe and grind against the wand, the source of both my pleasure, and my torment. The powerful vibrations are becoming almost painful against my over-sensitive clit. The continuous impacts, the repeated orgasms, all doing their part to reinforce my subservience.

I open my mouth wider, hoping that someone will accept my invitation. It's not my place to tell them what to do. To ask them to use me. I'm just holes to be taken and used. Fuck. My mind is racing. Spinning. What am I thinking? The weeks of repeating my mantra have driven it into my subconscious, I'm sure of it. My arousal has been altered. Twisted. My fantasies have been manipulated. Turned against me.

I taste an unfamiliar cock and gleefully begin my duty to the chorus of laughter and appreciation. "Good girl" the owner of the cock says as I help it to grow in my mouth. I cum again when he says it. His approval triggers the most amazing feeling of gratitude. The feeling that my efforts are worthwhile. That I'm good for something. All these feelings compounded with the overwhelming ecstasy of yet another orgasm. I'm happy. I feel nothing but happiness.

I don't tell them about the camera. I don't want to spoil the show for my 'fans' who I hope are still enjoying my debasement. I hope Master is watching me. I hope I'm making him proud. I hope the visitor who started this knows how grateful I am that he saw me. I never knew that I was special, but he did. I understand what he means. I understand what I am, and after I swallow another load and another spent cock leaves my hole I say my mantra loud and proud in a way I never have before.

"Thank you for raping me."

They each took a turn in my mouth. Four of them, including the first one. I swallowed each of them like the stupid cum-dump I am. They turned the wand up to max before they left, so when Master finally came home I was slumped on the floor. A sweaty, soaked mess of a whore. I could barely make a sound, my throat was so hoarse from the screams of pleasure. My legs were too weak to move, and far too stiff from the continued kneeling. My mouth was still open, still ready to be used.

I felt his hand on my head, stroking my hair. There was a tenderness to it, almost as if he was concerned. He helped me to sit up and turned the wand off, the torture was finally over. I try to thank him as he pulls the blindfold from me, but no words come out. Just a strained whisper of gratitude. He turns the camera off, and then releases my hands from the cuffs.

"Are you okay?" He asks, with a concern I haven't heard from him before. I try to clear my throat but I'm too coarse. Too dry. I weakly nod my head and nuzzle into him. My hands reach into his trousers and wrap around his cock. I don't think it's fair that so many have used me today, but not the most important one. My Master is special. He's the one who first saw my potential. They all benefit from his wisdom. His guidance.

I smile as it grows in my hands. I pull his cock out and move my head closer, sliding the cock into my mouth. I salivate as I taste it, the familiar musk that coats it. His flavour, once disgusted me, now I savour it. I adore it. I love my Master, and I'm so grateful for everything he's done for me. I whimper happily as I suck on him. He moans too. I'm a good whore. His whore.

The floating feeling I had been existing in slowly fades, and the realisation of what I had done comes back to me. The arousal that mutated my thoughts, removed my inhibitions, and made me enjoy it all was gone. All that was left was my usual self. Nothing but horror and regret. I have no idea who used me, but I know I told them to rape me. I gave them permission to use me whenever they liked.

The cruelty of my dual nature is that when I'm that horny, you can do whatever you want and I'd want it too. My usual state, however, is when I have to face the consequences of it. When they took me before, that wasn't rape. I wanted it. I enjoyed it. Fuck. I did enjoy it. If they see me in the halls, or on the stairs, or in the lift; I won't want it. I won't enjoy it. It will be rape. Except, every time I've been raped there's this part of me that does like it. Even now, there's some small, twisted feeling in me that is looking forward to it.

I don't know how my Master knew it was there, but I have to trust that he knows how to help me come to terms with it. He knows how I can accept it. I know it. I'm special. That man was wrong. So wrong. Master knows exactly how to use me. No one knows me as well as Master. Not even I do. I didn't even know I was a cum-dump, I thought I was a girl.

Master records a video of me reacting to the stream, or an edited video of it. The faces of my neighbours have been hidden. He doesn't want me to know who they are. He wants me to constantly wonder if I'm next to one. Talking to someone who knows what I am. He wants me to never quite know if I'm about to be raped. I think I understand the logic. The ever growing fanclub I have asked many questions. The most asked is how come I was so ready to suck the cocks of those strangers.

I explain to them how I get when I'm horny. How it breaks down my resistance and enhances my submissive tendencies. I tell them about the subspace I enter, and how liberating it feels to relinquish control. I know it's dangerous to tell them this, that they'll use it against me. I think it would be useful for Master. I think it's a tool he can use to help me. I know he'll use it to help me.

I also discovered the purpose of my fans' visit, and what Master said to me when I zoned out. There was a delivery of some items the fan had modified. Sensors that record information from my body. Master shows me where everything goes, and I'm expected to wear them every day. Moisture sensors for my cunt, to record when I get wet, and how wet I get. Thermometers to record body temperature. Heart rate monitors.

I am equally excited and concerned about the final item. They've taken one of those meditation aids, the ones that help you to put your mind into the right state by showing your brainwaves in an app. The device has been stripped, only the sensors remain. The new app they've written will record my brain waves. Master says it's not as accurate as an actual EKG or similar medical device, but for our purposes it will work.