The Modified Slave Ch. 04

Author's note: Sorry this took so long! Contains play piercing, bondage, and some light humiliation.

Blue

I decided to meet Red at a motel for our next session. Reusing the shop seemed a little too predictable, even though I actually would be piercing her this time. My good girl had called me on Sunday so I could talk her through her sub drop and texted last night to confirm that she wanted to continue seeing me in case I was wondering. I wasn't. Watching the bubble that indicated she was typing appear and disappear from our chat was so amusing, I'd deliberately waited until Saturday morning to put her out of her misery with the address, room number, and time I expected her to arrive.

Wear something slutty, I added as an afterthought. I didn't really care about her clothes, but the motel was seedy and the room stank of cigarettes. Having her strut up to this pay-by-the-hour establishment in something short and tight contributed to the overall experience. The scene at the shop was clinical, detached. This one would be sleazy and a little cruel.

The motel was located on a main thoroughfare connected to downtown but north of the university, in the sort of no man's land that had been considered suburbs in the '50s until they'd surrounded the area with a couple highways in the '60s and '70s and built an open-air mall slash office park on the other side in the '80s. The long stretch of road hosted clusters of contemporary apartments with access to hip restaurants and patio pubs, but there were still blocks of businesses that hadn't totally succumbed to gentrification. So, while the motel was surrounded by an auto body shop with a suspicious number of parked cars for 10 PM, a gentleman's club advertising steak dinner specials, and a self-storage warehouse in the process of being torn down, there was also a late-night crossfit studio and popular barbeque joint.

It was the kind of place that was hard to find these days, when even the shittiest chains have upgraded their builder-grade bullshit to fit the Ikea sensibilities of the 21st century. Ad-hoc bondage was much more difficult without metal bed frames, slotted headboards, and open-door closets. While I wasn't planning on tying Red down to anything other than herself, I appreciated the nostalgia. The floor tile grout was black, the popcorn ceiling was stained, and the bedspread featured an awful floral print. The furniture was technically a matching set, made of the same mid-colored wood as everything else from the '90s, though the mini fridge was being used in place of a missing nightstand. There was an honest-to-god CRT television set up on the coffee table.

I'd brought more stuff with me this time and spent more time putting everything in place. Bed stripped to the fitted sheet and covered in a layer of waterproof fabric. TV unplugged and stashed in a corner. Table covered in a disposable poly drape and set with stainless steel forceps, 14 gauge needles, and a couple dozen pieces of jewelry and various accoutrement.

Red rocked up in a strappy green dress with the material integrity of a tissue, sky-high platform heels made of clear plastic, and the tiniest purse I had ever seen in my life. Apparently college girls frequented the same stores as exotic dancers these days. I wasn't gonna complain about it. I was gonna complain about her sparkly green eyelids and bright orange-red lips. She looked gorgeous, but make up is one of those things girls use as emotional fortification and not just decoration. A way to create distance between their vulnerable selves and an admittedly harsh world. A mask. There would be none of that with me.

"Go wash that shit off your face," I said, nodding in the direction of the bathroom. It was smaller than most airplane lavatories.

Her skin was shiny and red when she returned, the result of scrubbing with whatever shitty bar soap had been provided for free. "My eyeliner is waterproof," she explained the black smudges around her eyes. I liked the look of it though, like she'd smeared her pretty paint choking on a cock.

I wrapped my hand around her slender neck, tipping her face up to look at her eyes. "Expecting to cry for me tonight, little whore?"

Sasha

I didn't respond, mostly because the answer was No, that just happens to be the product I use, which didn't strike me as the kind of feedback Blue was looking for. The motel we were in was filthy. Not really dirty--it smelled like chemical cleaner and there weren't any hairs in the sink or roaches in the corner--but gross and a little sad. The kind of place you definitely took a hooker... if this was the 1980s and you were a serial killer or a divorcée or whatever. I was born in the 2000s, but damn. It's not like there were women walking the street and this was the most convenient location to get it on. There was a craft brewery and a really good Korean bakery two blocks away. Did he want me to act like a literal prostitute?

Blue told me to lose the dress but keep the shoes. I folded the piece of cloth and, after a moment of silence, put it on the seat of an armchair. He didn't rebuke the placement, so I supposed my selection was suitable. Standing in front of him was awkward; for the first time in my life, I couldn't figure out what to do with my arms. I knew from the Internet that there were slave positions for this kind of thing--inspection, even the word thrilled me--but Blue didn't seem big on initiative so I kept still.

His gaze wasn't impersonal this time, it was... not lustful, exactly. Licentious? Whereas before he'd regarded me as something to use, now it was as something to defile. And I hoped he would defile me; I hadn't been brave enough to ask after being denied last week.

"Open," he instructed before inserting two fingers into my mouth, his other hand around my neck. "Suck." I did, stuttering when they reached my throat and then swallowing through the intrusion. He tasted like soap, which didn't really bother me. This was the first time Blue was letting me actively service him, and I wanted to impress him enough to replace his digits with his dick. Blue, I realized very quickly, was not looking to be impressed. He was looking to humiliate me--I'd asked him to, but this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. He pressed until my gulping turned into gagging turned into retching and fighting to get away. When he let go, I found myself sprawled on the cold floor, tears leaking down my cheeks.

"Not much of a challenge," he looked down at me with a fierce smile, and my stomach roiled with the reminder that I didn't truly know this guy. Maybe the vicious glint in his eyes was the real him. Blue's callous disregard in that moment was so convincing, a trickle of fear ran down my spine. And I must have had a death wish, because it excited me. "Well?" he nudged me with the toe of his cowboy boot. "Don't just lie there, you stupid slut."

Stupid because I'm alone with a stranger in a motel room he probably paid for in cash? I couldn't help but wonder. I had barely wobbled back onto my feet before he was slapping me back down--onto the bed this time, thank god. Still, it was the hardest I had ever been hit. I brushed my fingers over my stinging cheek, too stunned to realize he'd actually caught my head with his hand and then pushed me backwards. I wouldn't have thought twice if he'd done it during sex, but getting slapped apropos of nothing felt somehow more violent.

Blue dragged me half off the bed and flipped me onto my stomach. "Feet on the ground," he commanded, kicking them wider while I scrambled to do so. The heels forced my back into a dramatic curve, and the position was less than flattering. While I'd been blessed in the boobie department--relative to the a-cups that ran in the family, anyway--I hadn't gotten quite so lucky with my butt. Don't get me wrong, I had great glutes, just not a whole lot in the way of padding. Bent over as I was, there would be almost no crack to speak of. Blue had a totally unobstructed view of both my asshole and my pussy.

He chuckled and then, in case I was confused about what exactly was amusing him, felt the lightest stroke ghost over my asshole. I became suddenly, dreadfully aware that, besides a shower, I hadn't bothered to clean it.

"I didn't-- It's not--" I choked, horrified.

Even though I couldn't see Blue's face, the air practically vibrated with his displeasure. Rationally speaking, I knew it wasn't aimed at me. So far, Blue had expected me to follow his orders to the letter--nothing more, nothing less. He was annoyed he hadn't issued the instruction, and if I had to guess, troubled by this perceived chink in his armor. The man was a control-freak, I knew that much. None of that stopped my flush of shame at disappointing him.

"You'll clean it for me next time," he said before brushing it aside. "I like the color of your asshole, girl. It's almost as pink as your nipples. Maybe when I tattoo them, I'll ink it to match."

"Ohhh," I groaned, suddenly unconcerned about the thumb playing over my hole, about the man I didn't know well enough to trust. I wanted to know what that felt like with every fiber of my being.

Blue

I would definitely tattoo it, now that I was thinking about it. And how could I tattoo Red's asshole in any color but red? It'd be an obvious target to the only hole I planned to make available for fucking. Nothing against her pussy--it was very cute and very wet--but I hadn't been able to shake the concept of anal-only chastity. It was one of those ideas that would take up way too much space in my head until I did something about it. That only usually happened with my painting, but Red's pale skin seemed just as much of a blank canvas as cotton stretched over a wooden frame.

I ran a finger down the seam of her cunt, and she wiggled back against my touch. Good. She was worked up enough for us to begin. "Do you want me to touch you, Red?" I asked, switching to her name--the only one that mattered to me, at least.

I had scared her, just a little, so I wasn't surprised by the pause. "Yes," she finally sighed.

"That's too bad," I replied, "because I'm not going to. I am going to pierce you though, but I think I'll leave this greedy cunt for last."

"But--" she started.

"Temporary," I assured her. As much as I wanted to continue treating her like a girl I'd bought and paid for, it wouldn't do me much good to violate a boundary she had set so explicitly. "I'll take them out when I'm done. They'll heal over completely."

"Okay," she said, and then, "I mean-- Yes."

"Sit up, then. Over here, by the table. Legs spread." Red was eyeing the case of jewelry when I got back from washing my hands, but said nothing as I donned a pair of gloves. "This," I peeled back the packaging from a much more intimidating sharp than she had been subjected to last week, "is a hollow needle. It creates a hole by removing skin and tissue. Once it's through the skin, I'll thread the jewelry through this end and pull the rest of the needle out. Any questions?"

"No," she breathed, gaze almost reverent.

"Good. Tongue out." That earned me a sharp inhale, but she was quick to comply. I didn't bother telling her that it was one of the more low-pain locations as I wrapped a rubber band around the handle of my forceps. Much easier to go through connective tissue than cartilage or skin. This time, I marked the spot I intended to pierce--as close to the tip as I could reasonably manage--with a toothpick dipped in ink. Asher refused this placement to paying customers, since it caused tooth erosion no matter what material the beads were made of. I chose it because it would make Red drool and lisp. She flinched and squealed as I impaled her, but that was what the clamps were for. I wasn't going get mad at the understandable reaction to having a sharp object aimed at your face. "How's it feel?" I asked.

"It'th fine, I thought it'd be worthe," her brows drew together. She stuck her tongue and glanced down her nose at the silver barbell. "You gave me a lithp!" she accused.

"It's cute," I chuckled. She sounded like a confused four year old. "You'll have it for the next day or two, until the swelling goes down."

"I have clath on Monday!" she stared at me, wide eyed.

"Invisible bondage," I said as gently as I was capable. "I control your tongue, for now, and there's nothing you can do about it." The look of fear and desire on her face was enchanting. I'd encourage Red to go about her life like usual, but I wasn't going to command her not to skip class or avoid her friends.

M/s in absentia supposedly worked for some people, but it required an ridiculous amount of trust and dedication. Even then, I doubted the efficacy of remote accountability. I could have told Red not to masturbate when she got home last week, but there was no guarantee she would listen and it was unrealistic to think she should. Giving a slave orders they weren't enthusiastically willing to follow and expecting them to self-police was setting yourself up for failure. They could struggle to comply, make a mistake, feel bad about it, and decide to lie. Now you've got a slave who knows they can deceive you and get away with it.

"Nipples are next," I informed Red. "Get them nice and hard for me."

The barest touch over the tips and they were erect. Red liked nipple play. If I hadn't already known that from her reactions, I would have been able to tell from her practiced movements. Stroke, flick, squeeze. A pinch at the base and then stretching them out from the tip. Her thighs twitched, desperate to rub against each other. She held them apart, at least until I slipped a needle through her skin. "Mmm!" she squealed, and I had to slap them back open.

The nipple piercings were also barbells, but their installation was somewhat complicated by the d-ring shield I planned to use as attachment points. I'd made them myself, to ensure they'd come off with a certain amount of force. A healed piercing didn't need this kind of failsafe, but I didn't want Red making any sudden movements and accidentally splitting her nipple down the middle. While an injury like that healed pretty easily, it hurt real bad and freaked people the fuck out. It also made future piercings more difficult.

"No touching," I reprimanded when she raised her arms to resume fondling her chest.

"It hurths," she whined. I'm sure it did. Not from the initial needles, but because her body was trying to figure out what to with the foreign object I'd shoved through it. The pain would be throbbing insistently in places she'd never felt before.

"Is that why you're grinding against the bed like a bitch in heat?" I asked rhetorically. "Red, look at me." Her eyes were wide when they met mine. "Hands on the bed. Legs apart. Now take a deep breath through your nose. Out through your mouth. Again. I know it's hard to stay still when that naughty pussy starts leaking everywhere, but a good girl wouldn't try and take what doesn't belong to her, would she?"

"Nooo."

"And your orgasms don't belong to you right now, do they?"

"No."

"No," I agreed. "Who do they belong to?"

"You."

"That's right. And that cunt will get attention when I give it attention and not a minute before." It was obvious our little sidebar had only made Red more excited, but she managed to keep control of herself. "I'm going to pierce you here," I said, touching her legs right above the knee. She looked confused, concerned, and curious all at once. She opened her mouth, paused, and closed it right back up. I showed her the special-order surface bars, one end a stud and the other a ring. Putting them in vertically would be a little tricky, and I'd had to begrudgingly ask Asher for some pointers. "I'll make an entrance hole here, an exit hole there, and then connect them," I told her, making sure my marks were measured to fit the jewelry.

This procedure looked a lot more gnarly than the previous three, and I knew the sensation of a needle tunneling beneath your skin until it found its way out was very disconcerting the first couple times you experienced it. In the grand scheme of things, these weren't that deep--I could suspend her with two hooks in each knee no problem, but learning to trust your body was a lesson for another time.

I got her breathing again, slow and deep, and began working on the exhale. Red started shaking as I inserted the jewelry--ring side closest to the joint--quickly enough to catch her limp body. She was out for less than a second before she was blinking the stars out of her eyes and looking at me like I'd given her a religious experience. Not everyone into ritual body modification experiences this moment, but those that do will tell you all about it.

"I am drugth," Red slurred, and that was just about the best summation I'd ever heard.

"You are definitely drugs," I told her. "Ready for the next one?"

"Yeth, pleathe."

The second piercing was easy, time for the fun bit. I helped Red lie on her back, folding her legs so I could connect each nipple ring to the corresponding surface bar with a short length of chain. "You are a very evil, very geniuth man," Red said, feet in the air, carefully evaluating just how much she could straighten her legs before her nipples protested. It was further than I expected, and I appreciated the way she gasped to a stop, caught her breath, then pushed herself a little bit further. No, she wouldn't have any trouble with the trainers I hoped to use to permanently stretch them out. This girl was fucking begging to be owned.

"And you're adorable when you're out of it," I replied.

I urged her thighs further apart, and she grabbed the underside of her knees for support. It wasn't the most stressful position to hold, especially for a girl with legs as nicely muscled as Red's, but it would get uncomfortable eventually. With her limbs out of the way, I had direct access to her cunt. Red's outer lips were thick and pink, which would make it easy to close them over her clit, but her inner lips were long enough to pose a bit of a hassle.

Four holes on either side, I decided. Five would fit, but it didn't really matter either way; using rings to lace her up wasn't an effective chastity device. I'd considered other approaches. Sewing her shut with needle and thread was the most attractive short-term solution functionally speaking--I could send her home to remove at her leisure--but it felt a little too literal a little too soon. Better to introduce the concept symbolically first.

Sasha

Blue said he wasn't going to touch my pussy, and I wondered idly what patting me dry with a paper towel and disinfecting the area with a scrub counted as. He meant he's not going to pleasure you, some other part of myself supplied, but I was too floaty to really give a shit about the distinction.

The position he'd forced me into made raising my head incredibly difficult, and wiggling toward his hand all but impossible. I was only barely bothered, since my attention kept wandering back to my nipples. They were pierced. And stretched out. And being used to control me--visually, physically, psychologically. The first needle through my labia sent me to the happiest of happy places. So much so, that I barely registered the other seven. I felt hot and needy, but I wasn't sure for what; an orgasm hardly seemed relevant at this point.

Something did detonate though, at least that's what it seemed like to me. It pulled me back into my body some, and I realized my nipples had detached from my knees. Not my literal nipples, I confirmed after a moment of hazy panic. They were still there, barbells intact despite a little bit of blood. Blue looked amused and a little relieved. "Pulling so hard you woulda ripped your tits clean off," he shook his head. "Crazy little bitch." I decided it was a compliment.