I did, very suddenly.
That first moment was strange, even eerie. Everything felt otherworldly, unfamiliar -- I don't have words to describe this. The very act of thinking felt alien, as if I was somehow out of practice. It was so striking that I shivered violently, despite the warmth.
It was dark. I couldn't see anything at all, and by reflex I moved my hand in front of my face -- except my hand didn't move.
I was bound, on my back, with my hands up over my head.
I'd been drugged, I realized. And I heard movement -- someone was in the room with me.
"Hello," the voice said. Male, deep.
"Let me go! Who are you? How dare you! Untie me!"
"You're not in a position to make demands, Marie, so do not." he said, and I heard him moving towards me.
"My name's not Marie! You've got the wrong girl! Let me GO!"
"I have the right girl. Let me repeat, for the last time, that you are not in a position to make demands," he said, and he was right next to me now. I tried to aim a kick, but my ankles were also bound. I was completely helpless. "S-stay away from me!"
He sighed. "Let me be very clear. I told you not to make demands. You continue to. So I'm going to punish you. Learn from this."
There was a snapping sound next to my ear, and then the world turned white and horrible.
Electrical shocks slammed though me, and I arched against my bonds, screaming in helpless agony - and then unable to breathe at all.
A snapping sound, and it stopped.
"That was setting one," he said. "There are ten settings. That's the last time you'll feel the first setting. You're a bright woman and I don't think I have to explain myself further."
He moved away. I whimpered, softly, in terror.
There were some tapping sounds, and then he spoke again.
"You have many questions, and there's a lot that needs to be explained to you. You've got two choices -- I can give it to you a little at a time, in easy steps, slowly. Or I can give you the broad overview right now, all at once. You won't like what you hear, either way."
I was on my back on some kind of bed, but my wrists and ankles were in tight rings that didn't budge an inch when I strained against them.
I was naked, utterly helpless, and terrified.
"All at once," I said, unsteadily.
"Very well. You've been kidnapped. For reasons that will eventually become clear to you, there is no hope of rescue or escape. To oversimplify things a bit, you are my possession now, a slave. You are somewhere you've never heard of, and the only law here is my word, as far as you are concerned. You've been... changed, in ways which are too complicated to get into now, but they will be clear to you in time. There's nothing you can do about any of this, though I know very well you'll try to defy me. You will regret it. You'll find me pleasant enough if you follow my rules; you'll find me horrible, beyond anything you've imagined, when you disobey me. Everything is exactly that simple; I'm not exaggerating or talking in metaphors. And now you know as much as you can know, right now."
"I'm not Marie," I said. "This is some kind of mistake!"
"Are you not? Can you tell me what your name is?"
And I lie there with nothing else coming out of my mouth. My name wasn't Marie, but I had no idea what it was.
I was twenty three. I was a model in Brazil, based San Paulo, but I'd done shows in Italy, America and Japan. Brazilian mother, American father, both dead. I was fluent in two languages and travelled for fun. I was instantly recognizable by many hundreds of people, with thousands more on the internet. Why didn't I know my name?
"Exactly so," he said. "Your name is Marie, because that is the name I have given you. You don't have any other name."
"Please," I whispered in utter terror. "Please, let me go. Please."
"Never happening." I heard him walk over to me, and settle on the bed next to me. I shuddered. He chuckled.
"What happens next is perhaps the worst of all," he said. "I'm going to touch you. You're going to feel things you don't expect and have never imagined, and afterwards you'll be horrified at yourself. That can't be helped. You will not scream, or curse, or do anything to displease me. I'll go straight to the higher settings if I see any reason to. Lick your lips, slowly, now."
"No," I shrieked. "No! Go away! Please no, please-"
"Three," he said. Again the snapping sound, and I entered hell. When it was over, I was sweat streaked, sobbing and twitching and unable to speak, barely able to breathe. And then he laid his hand on my belly.
My nipples had been hard since I'd woken up. I'd refused to think about it, and been thankful for the darkness that hid my body from his eyes. But now, suddenly, they ached. His large, warm hand traced my belly, firmly, and my body responded.
"Lick your lips," he snapped, and I did, whimpering. I hated this man, but my body responded anyway. It was the terror, I decided. It had screwed me up somehow and-
And then his hand traced the side of my breast, and a fingertip lightly, slowly pressed against my nipple. Somehow, he could see me, I realized. I didn't understand how, but it didn't matter. As his fingertip toyed with my nipple, my belly tightened, and I gasped. Arousal, unmistakable and intense and uncontrollable, slammed through me.
"How?" I whispered.
"Part of it is your helplessness. The rest... you'll understand better in time," he said. And then his fingers settled around the nipple, and he squeezed down, gently... fireworks. I was suddenly panting, as if it'd been an hour of hot foreplay.
He stretched out next to me, and fisted my hair with his other hand, keeping my face to the invisible ceiling. His lips moved against my ear, whispering "You are going to burn as you never remember burning before, but you must not come until I tell you to. I would be very angry."
He pulled up on the nipple, and I arched as far as I could in my bounds. His hand went to the other nipple, and my panting turned to ragged moaning. It took guys all night to make me this hot, and he had me in seconds, with one hand. Hating him didn't matter. I shook, arched, fists clenching, toes curling, and deeply ashamed of my reactions.
"Hold that pose." And then he shifted and his mouth was around my nipple, my aching, throbbing nipple, and his teeth held it, tiny pinpricks of flickering pain, and his tongue lashed...
And as my body shuddered in raw hunger to every rough movement of his tongue, his hand slid down over my belly. I tried to close my legs, but I could not stop what he did. He toyed with my body's responses, teasing them from an ache to a rage of need. And then he slid two massive fingers into me, and I clenched down, crying out.
"You're very wet. Very... hungry. But not yet," he whispered, working me mercilessly. "I know what you want. Not yet." He violated me with his fingers, a ruthless, fast, curling movement, and each thrust slammed me closer and closer to an orgasm I didn't understand, and desperately tried to hold off. My helplessness and terror mingled with shame and animal need, and he bit down again...
"Please," I sobbed. "Let me! Please!"
He didn't answer. One hand in my hair, another thrusting into me and massaging my clit, the nipple sucked roughly into his burning mouth. I was going to come. I couldn't help it. I slid into-
"Kiss me," he snarled suddenly, his lips against my mouth. I sobbed in shame and kissed him, many times, and then he whispered come, and-
I had never felt anything that intense. He made me kiss him over and over, frantically, between my helpless orgasms, and each one was slow and violent and deep, so very deep; and then he fingered me faster, and held my lower lip in his teeth, and I went somewhere I'd never been-
When he let it end, his kissed my forehead and moved away. I sobbed, filled with loathing.
"You rest, now." He said. "That will be your last orgasm for awhile. I know you feel shattered and repulsed, but it will pass. Sleep well."
"Untie me," I sobbed.
"No," he said, and walked away. I heard a door, and then a humming sound, and I slid suddenly into sleep.
I woke, shaking. I didn't get to pretend it was all a dream, because I woke in my bonds, and very sore.
There was light in the room now. It looked something like an ordinary bedroom, what I could see of it. I'd never seen it before.
How had I gotten here? I tried to think back... the last thing I remembered was a party. It had been a pretty wicked party, lots of handling and carousing, very sexual... I hadn't been very comfortable. I'd gone because if you want to move up in the modeling ranks for bikini and lingerie there are just some things you have to do, especially in Brazil.
My agent, and girlfriends, would have checked up on me that morning. By now the police had been notified.
He'd raped me with his fingers. Not his cock. I supposed I was thankful, but... he'd called me his slave, and he'd clearly meant it. Worse was coming, I knew. From his hands and his touch I had no trouble imagining him as very strong -- he'd take what he wanted, without hesitation.
I had to get away.
I started crying, suddenly. He'd made me come, and that was humiliating and horrible. He'd made me kiss him. I'd kissed him because I'd wanted to come and that had been the only way he'd let me. Let me. I didn't understand. I'd never been a slut and I'd always been in control of my own sexuality. He'd somehow just brushed all that away, and that was shattering. And now I couldn't stop crying.
Suddenly there was a click, and the manacles at my wrist and ankles snapped open, then sank into the bed. I leapt out of bed in one bound, then cried out in pain because I was so very sore. The repeated, violent orgasms in those bonds had torn me up pretty good inside.
I looked myself over. No bruises. There were iron rings, like thick bracelets, on my wrists. They didn't slide off. My ankles had a set as well.
There were three doors out of this room. I headed straight for them, in turn. One was locked, one opened into a bathroom and one opened into a walk-in closet, which was empty except for an especially slutty-looking set of red, high heeled shoes.
No windows. I was trapped in here.
The furniture was all bolted to the floor, and there were no lamps, no power cords... nothing I could make into a weapon.
My movement felt strange and awkward. Cursing, I walked over to the full-length mirror I'd been carefully avoiding.
"Hello, 'Marie'", I told my reflection -- and then gasped a little.
It was me, but... better. My hair was blonder, thicker, richer. My waist was smaller, my breasts seemed bigger. Perfectly toned muscle. My eyes seemed wider set and my lips were fuller. I'd seen the results of cosmetic surgery before... if I'd been "done", it had been by an expert. But that wasn't possible... it took weeks to recover from that kind of work.
The worst was... my body was so obviously aroused. There was color in my cheeks. The nipples were hard. They'd always been large and when they were hard, it was very obvious. They were huge now. I snarled and went to the bed, pulling the sheet off of it and wrapping myself in it. They wouldn't get me to walk around naked. I went back to the mirror, trying to adjust the cloth.
If anything, that was worse. The cloth was sheer and somehow slippery, and there wasn't much of it. Tying it around me just emphasized my nipples, and knots didn't hold well. But it was still better than naked -- though the movement of the cloth over my nipples was maddening.
Wait -- I could twist the cloth into a kind of rope, and choke him when he came back. I pulled it off and rolled it into a cord, and then pulled it against my knee. It shredded instantly. It was uselessly fragile, more like tissue paper than cloth.
Cursing, I wrapped the pieces around myself. One piece just shredded further, so the other went around my hips.
An image came to my mind. A hand, reaching for me, grasping the cloth, tearing it from my body. Another hand, tangling in my hair-
I shuddered, and went to the bathroom, to look for anything I could use.
The bathroom was utilitarian and reminded me of a hospital facility -- everything was rounded metal or smooth tile or brushed concrete. There was no shower curtain, or place for one, and the toilet was a single molded piece of metal. Nothing that could be made into a weapon.
My captor had thought of everything, it seemed.
I went and sat on the bed.
Why was I so aroused? It wasn't going away. I wasn't like this, normally. I'd always been the ice queen among my friends. Was I drugged? It had to be something like that. The way I'd come when he touched me-
I shuddered again. Thinking about that was horrifying. And to my shock, I found myself licking my lips and wondering if he'd liked what he saw, as I'd thrashed on the bed-
"Fuckdamnit!" I screamed.
"Good morning to you also," said his voice. I leapt off the bed, tripped, and fell to the floor. I got up instantly, gathering the now-utterly useless cloth around myself, and stared around. He wasn't here. That meant a camera, microphone and speakers.
"Go fuck yourself," I screamed. "Come in here and I'll gouge your eyes out. You fucking bastard! You can't do this!"
"I can do anything I like," he said. "As you'll find out shortly. Now take that absurd sheet off and put the shoes on."
"Come make me! There's no clamps on my wrists, you can't shock me now, I'll rip your face to shreds if you come in here-"
"Four," he said, sharply. There was a snapping noise.
I collapsed, screaming in agony, and flailed on the floor as wave after wave of searing electricity slammed through me. And then I couldn't breathe and I couldn't think, and I wet myself all over the sheet as I tried to scream, over and over, and couldn't. It stopped, and then started again.
"You will be obedient," he said. "I'm coming in. You will do everything I say."
The door opened, and the shocks stopped. I curled into a ball on the floor and wept, panting in fear and not daring to look at him.
"I don't expect you to be happy with your new circumstances, Marie. Not yet, perhaps not for some time. But you will be obedient. I can do much worse than shock you. Your life here can be tolerable, or hideous in ways you still can't imagine. That choice is mostly yours. If you choose poorly, eventually I'll tire of you, and that outcome is not good for you. Accept that! If it helps, none of it is your fault. You didn't do anything to deserve this and there's no precaution you could have taken to avoid it. I wanted you and I took you, and everything that has happened, or will happen to you, is because of my wishes. It's that simple."
"Why?" I sobbed.
"I told you. I want you. And so I took you. There's no deeper answer. Let's move to a more important topic -- your behavior. Feel free to hate me, but you will be respectful and obedient. No more name calling. No more threats. You are a slave and you will act like one."
"I don't know how," I said. I sounded like a sulky child.
"You do know how," he said. "You've lived as one for three years. Going to parties you didn't want to go to, because people told you to. Posing and dressing however you were told. Maintaining your weight to meet the demands of another. You hated it, and took it out on the few men you had in your life, toying with their emotions and taking their gifts, while despising them. You had a bad attitude in your former life, but you were clever, and hid it very well. The same will work here -- for the moment. So listen to me carefully, because I am done repeating commands to you. You will take off that cloth, go into the closet, and put the shoes on. Then you will come and stand before me. Do it now."
And I did. The anger in his voice was terrifying. Without looking at him, I rose to my feet, letting the shredded, ruined cloth fall away. I went to the closet, put on the slut shoes, and walked out. I stood in front of him, in a modeling pose, with my eyes to the floor. I could feel his eyes beating on me.
With an angry sigh, I gave in and looked at him, starting at the feet and working up slowly. I wanted him to be ugly and old. It would have made everything easier.
He was barefoot and tan, and he had powerful legs, bare to his cutoff jeans shorts. My eyes stopped there, because he had a package in those shorts that would have made any woman pause. If that was all him in there, he was huge, nearly pushing up out of the waistband. I tore my eyes away after a long and suddenly embarrassing pause, and moved my eyes up the muscular, tight stomach and muscled chest. I hadn't been wrong about his hands -- they were large and long-fingered. I swallowed, and forced my eyes up into his face.
He was gorgeous. I prided myself on only dating the best, and he had no trouble fitting into that category. 30's, maybe, with sandy hair and piercing blue-grey eyes, and a wicked, charming smile. I shivered. A handsome face can make a woman stupid. He could lower the average IQ of a continent with that smile. I snapped my eyes back down again. He chuckled, softly.
"My name is John. When you refer to me among others -- you'll meet others eventually -- I'm simply Master, unless there's some reason why that's not clear, and then I am Master John. Let me set you some rules. You're mine. I decide if and when you eat, and how you look. That's going to be very simple in your case, since women here are naked unless given reason not to be. You will be a sex toy, satisfying my whims. You'll have other work as well, but that will come in time. You will not masturbate unless told to. Ever. The punishment for it is brutal. Now... I like to observe little rituals, and this is one that you need to experience. You will kneel, gracefully, and plant a soft, slow kiss on the top of my right foot. If it helps, I can shock you again first, at six, so you'll be able to believe, afterwards, that I forced you. But I would like to be finished with shocking you. You decide."
I knelt down. I'd knelt in front of a man exactly once before, as part of a photo shoot for a perfume ad. It had been eerie and uncomfortable, because I'd found it crudely erotic and had to hide my response. Afterwards I'd sneered at the other model, did a mock curtsey, and walked away from him without a word. Even the times I'd gone down on guys, I'd made them lie on their backs.
This was different. I was naked and couldn't hide anything. My body's impossible arousal was on full display. I knelt, shivering, and whispered "I will kiss your foot. But I can't be a slave. I will do the things you say but... I'm not a slave. It will always be an act."
I kissed his foot, lingeringly, shaking. Arousal and loathing and fear and something horribly like awe washed inside me, and part of me wanted to cling to his foot and kiss it over and over, while another wanted to drive my fist up into his balls. I returned to kneeling, unable to do either.
"I'm sure that little speech felt very brave and honest," he said. "But I didn't like it, and so you will be punished. We have many punishments here. Some are almost playful. This one... is not, but you will learn from it."
His foot lifted, and caught me in the chest, pushing suddenly. I fell onto my back, and then he said a word I didn't quite hear -- and my body went completely limp, and my eyes closed.
"Foolish Marie," he said. "You don't understand how very conquered you are. You're wondered about the constant state of sexual excitement, but you haven't worked out yet what it means, or what else has changed. I've spent a long time working on you... you were asleep for most of it, but I changed you. Because of those changes, your body is always ready for sex, and easily made very, very willing - and that can be used against you."