Vox Dominus Pt. 13

He didn't want to fuck her. He wanted to own her. To lash her body to his pleasure and her mind to his whims. To strip her of her ambitions, her independence, her will, and leave her exposed as the helpless slut they both knew she was. She would serve his desires and beg for his cock. She would plead to be made his, grovel to give up more and more of herself, until she couldn't even remember a time before his control, before his words had become her thoughts and his pleasure her purpose.

As these images danced between Seb and his phone screen, he could feel the Vox stir. The gates in his mind were opening, flooding his body with power. His cock strained against the confines of his jeans, arousal and avarice pumping through his veins.

Seb glanced over his shoulder, confirming that the narrow window in the door was clear: nobody was waiting or spying outside. He carefully unzipped his pants, ensuring that his back would be blocking the view, before sliding his boxers aside and allowing his erection to pop free. He began the recording on his laptop, then slid his hand beneath the table, stroking and stoking the heat between his legs, Chelsea's pictorial surrender still blazing before his eyes.

For once, he didn't shudder from the Vox's visions. He welcomed them. Allowed them to sweep all other thoughts away. He imagined Chelsea on her knees before him, completely at his mercy.

"Listen closely, slave," he growled.

______________________________________________

Veronica sat in her darkened room, her laptop shining brightly on her sheets. Even with the door closed and blinds shut, even as she knew everyone else was asleep, she still worried that Chelsea would see her. The light of her screen was blinding, paralyzing, a gateway to a forbidden world, a beacon of her impending betrayal.

No...she wasn't a traitor. This was for Chelsea's own good. Veronica had tried to be reasonable. Had tried to face Chelsea as her friend. Now she needed to act as her protector.

Even if it meant causing both of them pain.

The cursor in her window blinked. Impatient to begin. So Veronica set her trembling fingers on the keys. And began to type.

"Good evening, Mrs. Jaeger," the email began.