Trappers Bend Ch. 05

Her vision was poor. And backlit, through teary eyes, he was deeply unsettling to look at. So when he put his hand on her forehead gently, she closed her eyes, gave herself permission to just breathe.

She had already begun to associate his touch with pleasure at least as much as the anxiety and humiliation. And so it was strangely easy to just let him calm and comfort her.

He'd never planned to let her go, she knew. Probably never considered it, even for a moment. And yet she felt it viscerally — that by attacking him, she'd lost everything. It hadn't been easy to try to escape, and it would be much, much harder next time.

At some point the door had opened, and she knew the father was there, standing above. It barely shook her. The adrenaline was gone and she was exhausted — beyond even regret.

"Since you attacked me, we're not going to have any more negotiations. Freedom is off the table. Instead, I'm going to ask some questions, and you're going to give some answers. Do you understand?"

Whatever little sound she managed to make, it was enough for him.

"Good," he said. "Now in my experience, there are two kinds of girls who act out. Some are rebellious little bitches. They need a lot of punishment. They crave it, even after they're broken and trained. It makes them feel loved."

"The other kind are confused little cunts who are having trouble accepting their role. What they need is firm guidance and a tighter leash. It's not being punished that gives them security, it's being controlled.

"Now, I'm going to undo your gag, and when I'm done, you're going to tell me which one you are."

She looked up at him. She was almost 24, and had studied human behavior and psychology since she'd graduated high school. And with every class she took, it seemed more complex, ambiguous, elusive.

He was about 5 years younger than her, and the only thing he knew about people was how to manipulate and control them. She pictured him as a friend's little brother. She'd meet him and later say, "smart kid, but a little cocky."

And the friend would nod, and say, "yeah, he's an arrogant little shit."

And now, one way or another, the little shit was going to turn her into a sex slave — a simple toy to keep his dick wet.

"What are the options again?" she asked quietly, not really knowing why. Maybe to hear him say it again, to see if he could hold her eyes or she could hold his. Maybe simple curiosity. Or maybe just to feel how it affected her now that she was too exhausted to fight.

She'd already decided.

"Sir," he corrected.

"What are the options, Sir," she said, her voice so quietly that she thought he'd make her repeat it. She'd hoped so, just to delay it a little longer.

He didn't repeat it. He had to make it worse. He slid two fingers inside of her, then held them in front of her face, sliding his thumb against them so she'd see and hear the lubrication.

"Let me break it down in terms you'll understand, girl. Your cunt is wet for a reason. Is your cunt wet because you're a rebellious little bitch who loves to be punished and disciplined? Or is your cunt wet because you're a confused little cunt, who needs Sir to put her on a tight leash?

"And what if I told you that I were neither of those things, Sir?"

He grinned with relish, as if he'd been hoping she'd say that.

"Then by tomorrow night, you'll be begging me to call you both."

"I'm a confused little cunt, Sir. I need a tighter leash."

She wasn't sure if he was pretending to not hear the mockery in her voice, or if it hadn't come through as intended. Even in her own ears, it mostly just sounded resigned.

"Good. Glad that's settled. You'll respond to cunt until further notice."

"Of course I will," Ana murmured. She started to giggle. "Of course I will, Sir."

He patted her cheek lightly, patronizingly. It felt like a slap.

"Open wide, cunt," he said. "Both holes."

She opened her mouth, and a moment later, her legs, letting her eyes slip closed. She felt him settle the ring back behind her teeth and tighten it, then lightly press the plug inside her sex.

She was soaking. She'd always been a little self-conscious about how much she lubricated, but this was on another level. And she knew he wanted to torment her with it. Make her smell and taste herself every time he used her body, until she couldn't separate arousal from submission. Until to taste or even smell herself was to wallow in his control.

He slowly, deliberately ran the tip along the outside of her lips, just grazing her nose, so the scent would last even after she'd licked the plug clean. Then he slid it in, filling her mouth again with the taste of a confused little cunt, whose leash was about to get much, much tighter.