The Light Between the Trees Ch. 10

I feel him erupt inside me, and I know I've screwed up, but incredibly he doesn't shudder to a halt. Instead, he keeps thrusting, pumping his seed into me until I'm filled, the delicious friction of his shaft bringing me finally to the edge. I gasp, clenching mightily around him, tightening my entrance so that his final thrust is enough. I orgasm explosively, squirting out over the wood as I release weeks of teasing and denial, all at once. I'm convulsing on his cock, shuddering like my body has lost control.

I'm still twitching as he pulls out, and I sprawl over the mat. It seems to take me forever to come back down again, for the fog of orgasm to lift and for me to register his footsteps, walking away from me. I shift my head to look, watching as he opens the door and enters the house. I hear the click of a lock.

Covenant has shown me my new position. He's used me, filled me, and left me sprawled on the verandah in the gloom. Then he's retreated into the house, the place that only people are allowed to go, not even bothering to look back.

Dirty, sweaty and aching, I'm lying on my front with my legs splayed and my crotch wide open, naked in the dark. He's done with me for now. What he wants from me tomorrow, I can only imagine.

---

I wake up slowly from a dreamless sleep. I kept waking up during the night, tossing and turning to try and get comfortable. I've been dozing for a while now as the light filters gradually into the sky and it's not until I roll over that I realise I'm covered with a woollen blanket. I don't know where it came from or when he covered me up. I don't remember anything after closing my eyes.

The door opens and he steps out.

"How'd you sleep?" he asks.

He says it like I've been invited over for the weekend and he's putting me up in the guest bedroom. He's carrying a chair and a plate. I prop myself up on my elbows and tuck the blanket around me to cover up my nakedness.

He indicates the mattress with a finger. "It might take a bit of getting used to, but you will. Your body will adapt."

"I'm not so sure."

He sets the chair down at the foot of the mattress and sits, plate in hand.

"You'll be surprised what a body can get used to. We'll go for another night, I think, before I start to let some of the air out."

"Why?"

"I want you sleeping on the hard decking eventually," he replies, "But don't worry, we'll work up to that."

"No, I mean why would you want that?"

"It's all part of the process."

I narrow my eyes at him. It's way too early in the morning to deal with all this, especially after a bad night's sleep.

"So, this is all a process, is it? Want to tell me about it?"

He nods. "Sure, yeah. I'm going to start stripping away your comforts and your rights, one by one."

"Until?"

"Uh, until there's nothing left. That's the point. I want to get you to the point that you accept whatever I want to do to you, with the minimum of fuss."

"That sounds like shit," I hiss.

But, there's something in his words, the illicit thrill of being gradually stripped of all control and agency, until I'm just a thing. It makes me shiver with the horror of it, but there's something else beneath it all: a yearning.

"If we did it now, you'd fret and resist, even if you think you wouldn't. I can see it. You're not yet prepared."

He's talking to me so casually, but I'm in conversation about my own debasement and eventually, my irrevocable transmutation into the fantasy he has. It's utterly surreal.

"So here's what I'm going to do," he continues, "Every day, you lose something else that makes you human. Yesterday, for example, what happened?"

"Clothes," I mumble.

"Yes, exactly. People wear clothes. Things do not."

"What about today?"

"Today is your name. We've already forgotten all about Chloe, but now we're going to forget about Raven too. You'll begin to find it's easier this way, thinking of her in the past tense, all the things she was looking for, what she wanted."

"So what will you call me?"

He smiles at me. "I won't. I will address you directly when I need to. You'll find out that having a name is overblown, anyway."

"And tomorrow?"

"I don't know yet, I haven't decided. Maybe I just take away the air in the mattress tomorrow, or maybe we start to make some permanent changes to you."

My guts clench. He can see it in my face.

"You need to get your head around all this," he tells me, "Because you're not a person anymore. I'm going to help you understand that you're just a thing for me to do with as I see fit. If I want to make a change to you, I will do."

"What if I don't want it?" I snap at him, too hastily because he's rattled me.

"What will you do?" he fires back.

"I have my safeword, right?"

It's my only line of defence and I see his expression change, filling me with dread. He's not mad at me, it's a lot worse than that: he's being patient.

"There are no safewords anymore. There's no consent. You consented to the process, way back when you had a name and an apartment, and free will. All that's gone now. You are what I make you."

"I...," I gasp, "I didn't think...."

"What? That this was real? You saw it already. It's not some fantasy we're playing here. There's an end goal and I'm promising you that I will support you every step of the way until the end. I know you're going to find it difficult in places. So am I. But I meant it when I said I will do everything I humanly can to make it absolutely perfect for you."

He smiles at me again, and despite the meaning of his words, his expression is kindly.

"Because you're making it perfect for me. You don't know how much you mean to me."

He stands up, seeming to remember the plate in his hand.

"Here, get some breakfast. I'll fill your bowl back up."

Covalent places the plate on the decking in front of me. There are two slices of toast, each cut into four.

"No hands, of course."

He picks up my water bowl and walks back inside.

"The chair belongs to me, by the way, so I can sit out here with you. You're only permitted the mattress."

With that, the door closes behind him, leaving me sitting alone, the blanket wrapped around my body, staring down at the slices of toast. I can't eat. I can barely think. It's the patience, the understanding with which he spoke that's shaken me to my core. I run back through what he said, replaying the conversation in my head. He's right: I consented to this. In doing so, there's a point where consent has to become a thing of the past, doesn't it? That seems logical, right?

What the fuck am I thinking? This is all still my choice. I know what I told him, but I have the right to change my goddamn mind. I can get right to the brink and decide to not go through with it. I don't care about his fantasy, or his fucking feelings, it's my life. I get to make the call, only me. I need him to acknowledge that, I need to see him accept that I still have the final say.

I'm staring blindly into space when he comes back out. The bowl is full and he places it carefully next to the plate. He doesn't say anything to me, or sit back down.

"You've got a lot to process. Take your time. Rome wasn't built in a day."

He points down at the untouched plate.

"Not hungry?"

I shrug. In truth, I'm starving. The last time I ate anything was at breakfast yesterday. Oh, fuck, yeah, I remember yesterday. I went to the coffee shop and had pancakes with maple syrup and a little dollop of cream. I went all out, because I told myself it was my last meal like I was on death row and I got to choose whatever I wanted. It fucking amused me, the silliness of it all, sitting there in the sun among people having pancakes and scrolling through my phone, wearing clothes.

Twenty four hours later, I'm naked and hungry in the middle of nowhere with no rights and no future. I should have never got on the train. I should have kicked the back door of Covalent's car like a fucking mule until that stranger found me, I should have done something. But each step of the way, I made a choice. I'm totally fucked and it's all down to me. Even Covalent is down to me. I never had to offer to be his plaything, I didn't need to commit to surrendering myself. We both went this far because I decided.

"I need the toilet," I tell him.

"Of course. Come with me."

I get up, hesitating before I let the blanket fall to the ground, exposing my nudity. His eyes take in my body and I feel a little pang of shame and make to cover myself up. He shakes his head subtly and I halt, placing my hands on my hips instead.

"This is probably easier," he says, walking behind me.

He takes my hands and folds them behind my back, correcting my posture and straightening my spine until my small breasts jut out. He raises my chin until I'm staring straight ahead. Finally, he taps the insides of my thighs, making me spread my legs.

"This is a display position. When you stand in front of me, stand like this."

Is he serious? Really? He's telling me how to stand? I lock eyes with him as he circles around in front of me.

"No, that's wrong."

He taps my forehead.

"Eyes down at all times. You don't have the right to make eye contact when you display yourself."

I glare at him.

"Down."

His voice has a hard edge now, and it underlines my predicament.

"There are a number of reprimands. You already have one coming from yesterday. Trust me, you don't want me to combine them."

I stare into his eyes a moment longer. I want to tell him where to shove his reprimands. He can see that too, but he's waiting for me to choose what happens next. It's that patient look again, making my stomach churn.

Incredibly, I find myself lowering my gaze.

"Good. You seem to have the hang of it. Now, we just need one more, and then you can go to the toilet. Kneel down please."

I'm reluctant, because I know what's coming next. I've seen this enough times in the videos that the Everything Engine found for me. He's going to make me kneel in a slave pose. I drop to my knees on the mattress.

"Hands on knees, palms up. Legs wide. You need to reveal yourself completely for inspection."

I do what he says, splaying my legs to reveal my bald pussy to him. My back is straight, chin up and eyes cast down. He doesn't even have to tell me to do that.

"That's wonderful. You got that just right."

I'm kneeling naked in front of a man, forbidden to move, forbidden to even look at him, and for some reason hearing that he's pleased with me gives me a little jolt of excitement.

"Now, this is how you're going to be waiting on display for me each morning when I come out to feed you. Do you understand?"

I nod.

"No, I asked you a question. I need to hear you say it."

"I understand," I murmur, "I need to be waiting on display for you."

He places a hand on my shaved scalp and says, "Good girl."

The old me would have snapped back at him. I've never let anyone get away with patronising me like that, like I'm some fucking bimbo who needs a man's approval to feel good about herself. But, I find myself pulling back from it. I don't lash out. I don't know what it is that he's doing to me, but all I know is that it's gradual and inexorable, and bit by bit I'm letting him take control.

"Now, is it time for that comfort break?"

I nod and make to get up, but his hand is still on my head, pushing me down.

"Ah, no. You're in a display position. You remain like this until I release you. I need to correct that."

He takes his hand away and I remain kneeling.

"A simple but effective reprimand is to leave you in your display position, especially if you need to relieve yourself. It's effective because your body punishes itself."

He turns his back to me and walks away. I can feel the fullness of my bladder, straining for release. Now that he's brought it to my attention, all I can think about is being able to pee. He goes back into the house.

The minutes drag by and the pressure builds, until I'm squirming. I really need to go. I'm close to the point that I won't be able to hold it, which means emptying my bladder all over the mattress and the blanket beneath me. I grit my teeth because I need to hold on, but there's still no sign of him.

I try to relax, but it's so hard. My body is fighting against me now, implacable in its need. My bladder contracts and I have to hold myself very still as a wave of fullness sweeps through me. I don't even hear the front door opening.

"That's enough. You may stand."

He's giving me an order. His tone tells me he expects me to obey. I struggle to my feet, almost letting go on the spot. I clench to keep it in.

"Come with me."

He opens the flyscreen door and goes down the steps. I follow him tentatively, unsure of where we're going. It makes sense that if I'm forbidden from the house, I can't use the toilet in there, but in my sweep of the premises last night I didn't see any other option. Maybe I missed one in the shed? I didn't venture around the far side of it.

He leads me in the opposite direction though, around the corner of the house and then out into the grass. I scan the edge of the trees, looking for the outhouse. It makes sense. It's an old property, the bathroom facilities would have been pretty basic way back when it was built.

"Good enough."

He stops in the middle of the paddock.

"Where's the toilet?" I ask, uncomprehending.

"People use toilets."

He doesn't elaborate and I look down at the dry, brown grass all around me. He's got to be fucking joking. When I look back up at him, I can see he isn't.

"You want me to go to the toilet in the middle of a field?"

"It's your choice," he replies.

"Really? And my other alternative would be?"

He shrugs. "Not going."

I glare at him, fuming, but he doesn't seem to care. He's just waiting for me to do what he wants. I think back to the bathroom in the apartment I just vacated, and I find myself desperately longing for the pleasures of a toilet seat, flushing water, soap. All my life, I took them for granted until he stripped them away.

My bladder contracts again, and I double over with cramps. Suddenly, I'm squatting, legs apart, in the middle of the paddock. He taps me on the head, and I look up at him sharply.

"You still need to be given permission."

I gape at him, even as I start to feel my flow. My mind goes blank for a split second, teetering on the edge of finally being able to relieve the pressure in my groin. I clamp hard on my flow and it hurts. A couple of drops leak between my lips.

"Please," I grate through clenched teeth, "May I pee?"

He doesn't reply, and I'm staring up at him, waiting. What the fuck does he want from me now?

"Please," I beg, "I need to go."

He still doesn't respond, and I find myself thinking furiously. I've missed something, there was some part he expected. Do need to use other words? I flash back to the girls in the videos. Sir? Master? We never talked about that. It's something else, I'm sure of it. I want to go so badly that my thighs are trembling, kneeling in the dry grass.

Knees. Kneeling. Fuck. With a supreme effort, I spread me knees wide and place my hands on them, palm upwards. I face forward with my eyes down, arching my back even though it puts unbearable pressure on my bladder as my abdominals tighten. I take a deep breath.

"Please, may I pee?"

"Of course."

I close my eyes, surrendering myself to the abject shame of being forced to piss in a field in front of this man, but revelling in the ecstasy of releasing my flow onto the parched earth. I let out a long, slow, steady breath as I feel my bladder finally empty, and the pressure abate.

"Better?" he asks.

"Much better."

"Need to do anything else?"

"Not yet."

"Okay. Let me know when you do and I'll bring you out again. Stand up."

"Okay."

Just like that, he's taken me out to the grass to piss and now he's walking me back to the house again, like I'm his pet.

"I'll get you something to dig with," he says over his shoulder as I follow on behind him, "You need to bury it of course. The grass should be good enough to clean up with."

"Okay."

He goes back up the stairs and holds the flyscreen door open for me.

"Better eat up, we have things to do today."

I walk over to the bowl and the plate and kneel down. I lean forward, sucking up a little of the water from the bowl to whet my mouth before I pick up a piece of toast in my teeth. He watches me eating from the plate on my hands and knees, making sure I finish my breakfast.

Only twenty-four hours ago, my name was Chloe and I was sitting in jeans and a t-shirt having breakfast in the coffee shop. Now I don't have a name, stripped bare and eating from the floor with the grass as my toilet. But it's not my new position that surprises me: it's just how quickly he was able to do this to me.

---

[Next chapter: Training day. Chloe learns her new position as Covalent's toy.

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