This is the first story, and it details the path I had been planning on taking for a long while. It ends where I had planned to end the series. This path is the one Lea's story had been started for, but this stands alone if you haven't read that fragment. I had vague notions of where people went after this, but I wanted to end the story here since for years this was where I planned to leave it. The "Original" as I dumb it.
Going forward now I should have one more story of roughly this size, maybe a little less. That will show the alternate path I was coming up. I may also share some of the other ideas for alternate paths I came up with but no promises on how much. I'll also share the partial story (though much fuller than Lea's) I had been working on.
So now without further introduction:
Epilogue 1 - Andrea and the Original Dream - PDF Version
The Stories of Bound Friends
Part 24 - Andrea and the Original Dream
By JessBaby
Andrea bolted up out of bed. Her hands shook slightly and she was covered head to toe in sweat. She looked around the small guest room she remembered. She quickly checked the time on her phone, especially the date. She still wasn’t sure that was enough, but maybe it meant she was awake for real. She had only had dreams like that a few times and they had always been disorienting, dreams masquerading as real life. Dreams she would wake up within, go about a day, fall asleep and wake up again all without ever being awake. But none of them seemed to go on quite as long as this one, and she had never had it start again, where she redid the same day multiple times in different ways. It was like she had been suspended for years, tossed around by an increasingly directionless hand of fate that spent so long trying to get her path right all purpose shed away. Or something like that.
But it felt different now. She saw the cracks of sunlight coming in from around the curtains. It was still dull and yellow, even if she hadn’t just seen the time she would know it’s just a little after sunrise. The salt air was rich and everywhere, the kind of minor details that had been lacking, the kind of details that made it feel more real.
She tried to lay back down, but then felt how much sweat she had covered the bed in. She looked over at the light coming in from the windows and began deciding if she wanted to try to find a change of sheets now, or if this was simply a sign that her day was starting a little early. Ultimately, she realized that even if she could wish new covers on the bed, her mind likely wouldn’t calm down.
It had been two years since that freshman year spring break when she came to Surda for the first time. She slipped on a bit more clothing and trundled along to get a cup of tea to start the morning. The walk from her usual room to the kitchen was almost one she could do in her sleep by this point. Cup in hand she went on to where she often liked to sip her tea, the small patch of manicured garden filled with date palms and rose bushes. It was a spot that held some happy memories. Or at least, what she was fairly sure were memories and not part of her long slumber.
“Is this an early morning or a very late night?” Megan asked, startling Andrea enough to nearly drop her tea.
“Morning, you kinda came out of nowhere,” Andrea replied as she scooted over some to give Megan room to sit beside her. “I woke up in a sweat, it was strange. I didn’t think I could get back to sleep so I came out here.”
“What kinda weird, like where you knew it was a dream?”
“No, it was, like almost the opposite of that,” Andrea replied, trying to describe it. “I was convinced I was in the dream feeling it was real life. Really disorienting.”
“I’ve had those kinds of dreams,” Megan calmly replied. “I dreamed I woke up, brushed my teeth, showered, went to class, took notes, only to wake up again having done none of those things yet. False awakenings they’re called, I used to get them when I was.. well even by my standard freaking out about something coming on the horizon.”
“Well this wasn’t just a morning, it was like I lived through months of time,” Andrea replied. “And not just once, it’s like I was being pulled between multiple paths. They all went back to this time two years ago when we first came to Surda.”
“That’s.. I’ve never heard of.. I can’t imagine, no wonder you woke up in a sweat. Is this one of those you need to just forget it? Or would it help to talk about it?”
“I think yeah, I think I do need to just let it out. It’s like I just lived a couple lives, well, two others at leat. We were all there, and even though I was.. I don’t know if living is fully the right word because it wasn’t actually from just my perspective. So, it’s not quite.. I forgot what you just called it.”
“False awakenings? They’re kinda related to lucid dreams but kinda opposite, you don’t realize you’re in a dream or even still asleep. You just kind of live.” Megan replied, citing back to one of the books she had for last semester.
“Well then not quite that. I was living my life but.. I also was kinda.. I was watching it third person almost, because I somehow knew things that were going on beyond just what I could normally see or hear. And the different paths, they split off from different points in the past and show me some alternate way I could have lived. But the first two start back at the day of that double birthday party two years ago for Zee and Ravi.”
The Original Dream
So it all starts when I’m kind of making myself a little crazy. You remember how I could be back then. Zainab had said she was going out with some of her old girl friends and wanted to catch up without me. But then she sends me a picture of her at the club with Ravi, and I still wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. So I probably over-corrected, sending way too many texts and just seeming to just be suspicious.
Needless to say, we got into a fight. Well, we did in the morning at least. She came home and bound me knowing how hard it used to be for me to get to sleep like that. So in the morning we talked, and she said she wanted to take a break, just for the night. That she wanted one night where she didn’t have me clinging on, where she could be her old carefree self, at least for her birthday night. I wasn’t very happy but it wasn’t really a negotiation.
As for you Megan, you had just gotten that new AI personality that you had spent all night personalizing. You brought him with you to the party, and said you would not need me around since you had someone to look after you now. Sophia didn’t want to go, and no one wanted to make her, that left all three of us going off and doing our own things for the party.
The party itself was gobsmackingly grand. His home, well you’ve been there in real life you remember how it’s even bigger than this place, in large part because he wasn’t afraid to build out over the water. When we arrived past his big gates and tall walls, we were given the opportunity to change into costumes from quite literally thousands of options. Too many for me to pick out right away, but Zee had one picked out for her by Ravi and you had your own thing going on.
So I’ll start with you, cause I think you probably had the best time. You had that virtual master Marcus that you just got, and you had the staff hook him into the home system so he could feed instructions to the absolute small army of people working there. We talked it over but you were happy to go off on your own, since Marcus had several easy ways for you to tap out of any situation. He had you nearly naked, wearing only a kind of latex ball over either hand sealed off with a wrist cuff, and a matching black collar with a hood that covered everything but your eyes, nostrils and mouth. Ravi had filled his property with.. I guess you could call them creations.
We didn’t know then, but you know how in real life Ravi has been pouring money into all those adult entertainment businesses? Well I think in my dream he had come a lot further a lot earlier so everything there seemed close to magic. There were areas of simply regular, attractive people but Marcus never really brought you over to them in this one. Some of his creations were people, modified in one way or another. That could be a costume, some kind of mechanical attachment, some more fundamental or even surgical. In other cases, the creation was robotics without any human at all.
The whole party seemed to be geared around everything being very public and voyeuristically satisfying. Even for things that logistically could only take one or two people at a time, there were usually several more simply watching. One of the recurring patterns to the night for you was that Marcus always seemed to end what he was doing slightly before you were able to climax. Or, more accurately, he knew how long you were going to be at any one place and always timed out his teasing to just deny you. Marcus used his position within the system to plan out the night so you never had to wait for anything you always showed up where you were going to next just moments before you needed to be there. Each time, the speaker in your hood hinted that maybe next time you might be allowed to, each time it made you want it more. You spent the whole night his very willing slave.
Your first stop you were brought to ledge looking down on a large multi-story rotunda room. It had many comfortable sofas and lounges and a considerable number of people were down their enjoying each other, but between you and the floor below there was what looked like a mesh net, organized like a spiderweb around the round room. The holes in the mesh were certainly large enough for a foot to pass through but it didn’t seem like her whole body could fall through. Marcus told you your job was to simply walk across middle of the net and reach the other side, exposing you to everyone along the way. A few people down there looked up at you, and it made you a little flush.
The net itself was a little more rubbery than you thought it might be. You only made it a few steps before falling. But as you approached the center, even though the bending got worse the ropes became closer and closer together with a kind of support ring halfway in. At one point after crossing the halfway ring you tried lifting your leg and it was to your surprise stuck. The disorientation made you fall, which landed you on some more sticky bits, keeping your torso and one of your hands stuck. Your fingers were held behind mitts and in your struggle to get one hand out you began to roll around and found that the netting in the middle was made of something very different than the outside, it was stretching and bending around her. You were sagging down slowly, and your mask-covered head was now stuck as well. You decide relaxing is maybe best, which causes you to look up and see a giant mechanical spider descending on cables down to you. After that you gave up struggling, and set your other arm down. The spider began wrapping you, cutting away enough webbing to wrap you up in it, turning you around and around helplessly. It got you hands above your head mummified in this stretchy sticky webbing. It left your head, crotch and breasts exposed however.
It pulled you up to the rafters and placed you inside a kind of sack that kept you suspended to the ceiling independent of the spider, suspended at about a 45-degree angle so you could see the height you were suspended over. As it descended to repair the webbing, for whoever comes next presumably, two smaller robots began to climb down along you in the front and back. Both extend a kind of phallus and quickly find your two lower holes. The one in your ass pumped hard, while the one in front pressed his rather wide girth into you and held it there. That’s when you felt the spider in front of you begin to deposit golf ball sized somethings inside you. Just as it was beginning to feel like too many, it stopped. The phallus inflated slightly inside and then detached from the mechanical spider, acting as a kind of plug to keep all the little gooey things inside. It wasn’t long after that the spider in the back left as well. You had limited ability to look around, but you saw two other women, similarly situated in sacks, mummified in fake webbing.
That’s when the round things inside you began to vibrate. It felt good, but it was still very weird. You received another bit of sex from the small spiders, which seemed to be jumping from woman to women making sure they all got as much attention as they could. You watched one of the woman get taken down, after the large spider had had its turn fucking it’s captive. By the end the woman was screaming unintelligible moans of pleasure and overwhelm. You were eventually brought back down, but not before several occasions of those different mechanical spiders and their vibrating bits brought you very close, but Marcus always told you no, that you hadn’t yet earned release.
You were eventually freed and everything was removed from inside you. Marcus even checked in with you verbally through the speakers in your hood. You shared how exciting it was and that it was so unbelievably different that there wasn’t any of the worry or anxiety at all. You were a little dizzy and a little sticky but exhilarated. Marcus confirmed what he had anticipated and directed you to the showers, which were surprisingly large and busy. A muscular well hung man, who Marcus assured you was a staff member under his orders, took you to a dangling chain near a showerhead and cuffed your hands above your head. The warm water sprayed you down, and he applied suds that left you feeling clean without any of that artificial web stickiness remaining.
Once you were clean, you were quickly wrapped in heavy chain. A chest harness with several wraps around your chest, making it all very heavy, not to mention the coil of chain wrapped around forearms that were eventually attached to the harness. With a few more chains wrapped around each of your legs you were brought to a kind of supersized water tank. Which was strange, because the tank was right next to the ocean, with its glass making up one wall of a kind of boathouse where a pair of yachts were parked. A thick heavy posture collar was fitted around you, with a mouth gag connected to the collar. In your surprise they simply pushed you in, where you naturally sank under the weight of your chains. The collar however was providing you air, and that let you relax as you fell to the bottom.
In the tank there was clearly a central attraction, several other women in chains were already being a part of it. Out of a large, shell shaped opening were dozens of what looked like rather convincing tentacles. They were a kind of omni-directional robotic arms, coated in a thick sleeve of gel and silicone. The buoyancy of the water meant the arms did not have to support their own full weight, and it gave them remarkable flexibility. One woman was pressed up against the far glass, held there by a tentacle wrapped around her torso, much to the delight of several observers on the non-ocean side of the tank. Another woman without chains was being held up high, all four of her limbs immobilized. Both wore similar collars and both were getting violated by a tentacle of some kind with a unique crescent shape that covered their entire crotch.
Soon enough a tentacle grabbed you by the leg and pulled you in. It deployed the special crescent shaped arm had little nubs all over it, and two protrusions that effortlessly fit inside you. They began to move and vibrate, as did the nubs which were very well placed. It held you against the glass so you could watch as a small viewing gallery enjoyed themselves watching you and the other women being toyed with. It would sometimes toss you around, if for nothing else but to show you how helpless you were. The compressed air stored in the collar kept you breathing, but as you got more and more stimulated, it took more and more concentration to not spit it out and yell into the water with pleasure. But as Marcus had instructed, just barely not enough to make you climax.
I tried getting into the party like you did, but I had trouble. I found myself, no matter how much I knew it was a bad idea, simply following behind Zee. She had gone off with Ravi, Sanvi and a few of Ravi’s male friends, one it turned out was the Sultan’s youngest son. Zainab spotted me a few times, but she didn’t seem to react. Then she went to kiss Sanvi. I don’t know what they were saying, but there was a lot of talking right before it. One of Ravi’s friends grabbed Zee by the ass, and rather than push him away,she moved on to kiss him. The group started stripping what little they had on and the five men began to overwhelm the two women. They were both double teamed, with Sanvi using her hand on a third.
I left, well I did watch for a bit more, but I figured I should probably find really anything else to do. I eventually found a lounge alcove, filled with several muscled and gorgeous men that all looked up as I passed by. They asked, first in Surdanese but eventually English, what kind of man I wanted. They said that all these men are here for the party to help the guests enjoy themselves. I chose one that knew English and we found a nice sofa before I asked him to go down on me. Somehow.. I don’t know I felt weird still asking for him to put his cock in me. Sure we were broken up for the night, but I was trying not to think about that. He was good with his tongue, but as I reached down and felt his bald head I wasn’t feeling in the mood anymore. I told him to start to fuck me, and that certainly felt great, for a while. But even a paid stud can only go so long, and when he was done my mind was back to distraction again. So I told him to leave.
I looked around for a while, and while there was a lot to see there was nothing I was particularly interested in. I tried what it felt like to be hogtied and put into one of those skydiving air tunnels, so it’s like you’re falling but you’re hogtied and helpless. It was interesting, but it more ended up just stinging my bare skin than it was sexy. Saw that giant game of human chess, and many other games but I couldn’t work up the interest to care. So after a while, I asked the nearest screen if it knew where Zee was and it pointed out her location. I knew it wasn’t a good idea but I went there anyway.
When I peeked around the corner to where the home had said they were, I saw Zee and Sanvi restrained with blackened metal bindings. They each wore a matching thick black metal collars with a long dangling black chain lead, black wrist binders that placed their arms into a box tie, and a black chain around their waist holding their arms to their bodies. There were now just three men, Ravi was fucking Zee from behind while two of his friends took either end of Sanvi. There was also a new woman, dressed like some kind of devil dominatrix wearing only heels and an underbust latex corset. Her skin was crimson red, almost making it look painted on the unnatural red color that it was. Her bleach white hair was held back by a pair of red horns protruding up from her forehead several inches. She even had a tail of some kind protruding from her lower back with an arrowhead tip. The tail seemed able to make shapes, it wasn’t just a dangling bit of costume but some kind of prosthetic surgically added to her body along with the horns.
I stumbled in, pretending I was just bumping into them, like I was just stumbling onto this for the first time. Zainab looked pissed,she shouted something in surdanese, and I was taken away rather suddenly by two very large women responding to the orders from the red devil woman. I was taken downstairs to a basement of some kind, it looked like raw rock walls and red flames were burning. Several women sat around the room, all screaming intense animalistic moans.
I was stripped down and they began to quickly bind me. Before I could complain they pressed a metal cage around my head, one with a large round hole at my mouth depressing my tongue. It very likely looked like what the some of the women kneeling around the room were in, a featureless metal face removing every feature but the mouth. I was brought to the ground and my legs were placed into sleeves locking my thigh and calf together on each leg. I was then lowered onto some kind of saddle, with three prominent protrusions, two going right inside and one settling right on my clit. My arms were pulled up above me and placed into a padded mitten metal cuff, likely similar to the ones that hung from the ceiling encasing the arms of every other woman in the room.
More straps were applied, holding me down tightly to the saddle. My legs were off the ground slightly placing all my weight between them. A bar was attached right along my back and into the saddle, with several more straps to keep me upright and head locked slightly downward so I could begin to drool over myself. I felt my arms pulled up some, finally tightening that binding and leaving me about as helpless as I could be. That’s when a screen turned on in front of my eyes, where the screen showed me a countdown timer starting at an hour and a half.
That was when the protrusions began to work. They were as intense as any vibrator I’d ever used, and they were all three at slightly different frequencies. I started breathing heavier and heavier until in really short order I was beginning to cum. But it didn’t slow down. It kept stimulating in my now more sensitive areas. The countdown timer was gone and the screens were now jumping between a video feed of that room of tortured women and in large lettering, insults like ‘SLUT’ flash over a video of a woman being spanked or otherwise hit as punishment. It was the perfect kind of hell, a torture of pure pleasure, but far too much of it. I stopped trying to count, to count would need one to end before another begins and after a few that wasn’t really happening any more. I was just a faceless, nameless girl being tortured like a slut. It’s why Marcus sent you to this room to finally get the relief he had been teasing you with all night, but with masks over our faces it was impossible for me to even know you were there with me.
Which is also why Sanvi confused us a bit later when she came down to gloat still in her metal bindings. She thought she was gloating to me, someone unable to escape her bindings on her own. She started telling you about how my behavior had been the last step Ravi needed in his plan to get Zainab to be his. With the kicker that because of how possessive I was acting, telling her all this will only make me look crazier. She seemed so excited to brag about her part in it all, and that Zainab was so pissed she had ordered no one release me until someone else tells them to.
And if she had been talking to me, it would have been painful and frustrating. Instead you signaled to your digital master to let you out. She was confused, unable to think of way someone had come over to undo all the restraints. Until the mask came off to show your face, at which point she started to panic. She tried to play it off as a joke, that obviously she wasn’t serious. You grabbed her lead and clipped it to one of the chains high out of reach of what her bound hands could access. You even put your mask over her to try to stop her from calling for anyone. You then went over to the only woman in there that could be me, turned everything off and untied me. You filled me in and together we went to go confront Ravi.
We tracking them down at the top floor at a part of the house that jetted out over the ocean. An argument ensued, I tried to explain things, but I wasn’t saying it right, somehow. That’s when Sanvi showed up. Her hands were still bound, someone had simply freed her and she had found us. She spun her own lies, or at least I presume lies because they weren't English. I tried to get her to shut up so I could talk, but she wouldn’t let me. I was getting visibly distressed, angry enough that I just shoved her. She tried to catch her balance but in heels and with her hands bound it took a few steps. She looked shocked and began yelling at me, Zainab even got up and seemed to join her side. You joined in trying to defuse the situation, putting a hand on both of us to try to push us away from each other. I can’t remember what set me off anymore, but something did. I shoved her a second time as I yelled again “Shut UP!” She was pushed back and lost her footing tripping on Zainab’s foot.
That’s when she fell over the balcony.
We all raced over to the low balcony railing to see if she was alright. It was quite the fall, but the tide was in and she seemed alright. Someone had already jumped in at a lower level to get her. Ravi kicked us out right then and there. I looked to see if Zainab would come with me but she wasn’t even looking back at me. So you and I started walking back without her.
About a block away, we were stopped by some police. One explained to us in English we needed to come with them to answer some questions about an altercation they just heard about at the party. They didn’t seem to give the impression it was optional. They brought us to a cramped station and deposited us each in a separate room, like something right out of a TV police drama.
Once someone did finally come in, they had a lot of questions for how much I knew Sanvi. The pressed me on if we had been fighting, or if there was any reason I might want to hurt her. I felt blunt truth was probably my best bet, but the interrogator didn’t seem very satisfied. They would sometimes leave me locked in that small room for I don’t even know how long, but it was possibly approaching morning. They interviewed me several times in between, I gave the same answer. They did offer water in between, but they often told me that what everyone else was saying was all a little different from what I was saying. He wanted to know how you fit into it, he wanted to know how Zainab fit into it. He said that what Zainab had said didn’t seem to fit, and that she was saying everything was my fault. I started to get worried about what kind of trouble I might be in, so I asked for a lawyer.
They simply explained that this wasn’t America, and that things work differently here, especially for non-citizens who are merely sponsored by a citizen. He explained that I was a guest in this country, one sponsored by Zainab’s family. He said they were considering revoking that sponsorship, which is why it was so important that I tell them what Zainab actually did. I started to get worried, wondering if maybe I hadn’t registered everything. I saw out the window of the door they marched Zainab passed and while I didn’t know what that meant I’m sure it wasn’t good.
The cop who had been walking Zainab by the door came in a few minutes later with what looked like a series of straps in his hand. He warned me, this is my last chance. That Zainab was placing the blame on me and that if I didn’t tell them how she was involved they would have no choice but to process me. I simply repeated what I saw, I didn’t know what else to say and didn’t feel comfortable sitting in silence.
The new officer stood me up and instructed me to give him my hands, that I was to be placed under arrest. It was a shock, sure you can imagine, but I complied. I figured protesting would only make things worse. To my surprise though, he didn’t have any handcuffs, he put each of my hands in a kind of flat glove. It was leather and had a cuff below the wrist to keep it in place. It was flat because of some kind of rigid board above and below my hand. A leather tag stuck out of the end like a leash, only when he tugged on it the two rigid boards compressed, putting painful pressure on my hands until there was no longer tension. After one was on each hand, a belt was fastened around my arms and torso just above my elbows. He was about to put on a leather collar, but noticed the metal collar I still wore that Zainab got me. He left to get a tool and cut the chain. For some reason, looking at the cut collar on the table seemed to be my breaking point. Even as he put on a collar and attached the leads from my hands to the back of it, forcing my hands to rest at my shoulders. A lead was attached to my collar and I was led away.
I was brought to what looked like a fancy office, with my lead attached to a bar I was then forced to stand at. They brought you in shortly after and attached your lead next to mine. Someone in what looked like a judge's robe came out. He looked over some files and spoke to one of the other officials there. He never even spoke a word of English as he passed down our sentence.
Our sponsorship had been withdrawn, and that opened us up to summary judgement. When someone finally translated his decision I nearly fainted. We were found guilty by the statements we had made in integration and by witnesses who corroborated, but that's when I found out what the charge was. It wasn’t an altercation with Sanvi, they said it was for inadvertently causing Sanvi’s death. As we were both pushing, we were both found responsible for pushing her to her death. And for that, we were sentenced to 21 years of penal labor contract.
I felt broken, you weren’t far behind. I felt a pull on my collar and followed, but I was so lost I wasn’t even registering it. I was silently doing the math, realizing this would take me until I was 40. You were trying to talk to me, find reassurance, but I was too far gone to give any.
We were led into a long, brightly lit room with a pair of chains hanging every 4 feet or so. There were ankle shackles padlocked to anchors in the ground halfway between the hanging chains, they had a 12 inch spread. Along both long walls were mirrors, with lights illuminating from both the bottom and top of the mirror to illuminate both our back and front.
There were two women already there, their ankles were locked in, their hands were in leather restraints just like ours and each were attached to chains which had raised them up into a spread position. One seemed a little older than us, but both were stunningly beautiful, which was plane to see in their total nakedness. Both had large rings pierced through their septum, and a harness gag with the outside made of metal, matching in metal collar with a dangling chain falling between their well defined breasts.
We were soon bound up like them, legs spread into the shackles before they released our hands. They attached the edge of the leather cuff to the lowered chain before releasing the strap around our torso. The chains pulled up and stretched us out, requiring us to either hold our hands up or feel the slight crushing feeling of the gloves under pressure. They took off our collar and came back with a metal harness gag with a rubberized extrusion poking out from it. It pressed down on our tongues and kept us quite silent, while leaving a small hole through which to still breath.
Our clothes were then ripped away with single effortless cuts, leaving us nakedly standing around shards of fabric. Only once we too were naked did they apply the collar with its dangling chain leash. Then we were left alone, staring out at a long mirror either at our own reflections, the two girls beside us, or the three empty spaces to the other side, and what that might mean. Hours later another girl was brought in, also not much older than us and in great shape. They chained her up and stripped her just like they had to us and just like they would to one more woman who came in about a half hour later who was much older but seemed to have had work done. I caught a glimmer of some light on the other side of the mirrors, and I realized we were likely on display behind one-way glass. I wasn’t sure what to even do with that realization, as there was simply nothing I could do, and it was a secondary concern to the constant balance act trading off different kinds of pain in my now tired arms.
What we would learn later is that it was a kind of judgment. The government outsources the actual implementation of contracts to the highest bidder so they can maximize their value while minimizing the government’s logistical burden. It means that when contracts are sentenced, many companies view the prisoners and their contracts, deciding how much value is there and place the bids with the government. Different establishments specialize in different kinds of contracts, some may look for the best bodies for heavy labor or some specialize in minor offenses who can not be compelled to do much. We were all attractive women, so we were all brought to this is the room in order to be in front of the kinds of establishments that want attractive women with severe contracts.
Three of the six of us were released from the chains keeping them still, their hands were locked to each other behind their back, and they were led away by the collar. You, me, and the woman at the far end of the room were left for another 20 minutes or so before being led away. We were brought onto a boat, a taken to that small island fort not far from here, the really old one. At that point we were separated and brought to a kind of exam room. We were tied down to an exam table and shortly after an IV needle was placed in our arm, we fell asleep.
We woke up reunited and without any of our old bindings, replaced instead with a very tall posture collar, and straps all over our chair to hold us in place. There were hanging mirrors for us to see ourselves as we awoke. They had given us each septum piercings, creating a tunnel with a hollow metal rivet, but stopped short of placing a hanging ring inside it. We also seemed to have lost a slight amount of weight. Our stomachs were flatter than they had possibly ever been, and our breasts seemed slightly perkier.
A woman came out, naked and with a golden ring through her septum. She began to explain our predicament. We were each given long term, severe penal contracts, and all met the criteria for those contracts to be handled by the House of Two Palms. The House has been a training center for servants and slaves for the elite going back centuries. Those who pass receive a golden ring and a marking, she showed us her tattoo placed at the side of her hips. She explained with pride that those who graduate are considered some of the most highly valued “companions” that can be found. Though, she also explained that for those who fail the training the House finds other ways to make them valuable. And that since failure to complete training is considered a failure to abide by your contract, a more harsh contract takes its place offering the House almost limitless possibilities. And she wanted to make clear, by design not everyone can pass, there will always be a percentage that fail by simply consistently underperforming everyone else.
Pass or fail, we will be slaves. She explained though that a failed slave will find themselves in a more extreme contract, and that means very different rules regarding modifications they could put us through. No matter what we are when the House is done with us, our contracts will first be offered at expense to those wronged by our crimes, before being auctioned more publicly if they are unable or unwilling to pay.
Then they went on to explaining the posture collars. They were not simply a fetish decision, but a medical one. While we were knocked out, they implanted a NESIC2 chip. Those aren’t placed at a nerve end, they are placed between some of the uppermost vertebra and act not only as a chip that can add signals but one that can block them. They explained we had been in medically induced sleep for 26 days already for that area to heal before we awoke. And while under, the chips went through the long calibration process for each of our bodies and the near countless number of nerve endings. But now it can regulate nearly anything normally regulated by signals from the brain and can trick our brains into feeling just about anything our nerves would normally say we’re feeling. They gave a demonstration as it felt impossibly real that a hand was gliding up our arms even as our eyes told us that was not happening. They also explained that this was how we seemed thinner and our breasts more pert; the chip can alter hormones or metabolism or any number of bodily functions. It was a lot to leave us with.
The next week was very surreal. The three of us were given relative comfort as we were simply observers to the rest of the women at the House. And there were a lot. If I had to guess, there seemed to be four dozen or so. But we seemed to be in a period of observing their routine, so that when they threw us in with them we will already understand their expectations. And the expectations were strict!
There were expectations for how your face should look, and those who let their face be anything else were quickly zapped. There would be wakings at all hours as a dildo appeared, they had to begin eagerly sucking almost instantly after being woken. Women would be blindfolded and be expected to recite the slave’s oath for hours without variation or allowing annoyance or boredom to cross their face. They trained for taking specific positions on command, and could often be heard repeating words one at a time most of them not in English. Many would be rotated out of the main room only to return by the end of the day, but we couldn’t see where they were taken. So much of what they did was performed for a camera, but overseers paced around to inspect as well. By the second day I could even recite the oath myself:
“I am a slave. My body belongs in full to my Master. My purpose is service to my Master. My fate is decided by my Master. If I forget these truths, may my Master take no mercy on me. For I am property and not a person.”
We spent several days locked in a hanging cage just watching. The square cage had a mattress slightly smaller than a twin, and just enough headroom to kneel. On one side there was a funnel and hose for a toilet, a twist faucet for water, the only interaction we got was twice a day when they gave us something to eat. If we talked too loudly, we felt a tingle on our skin like we were being poked with dozens of dull needles. We still wore our posture collars and we’re sure it was that chip that made us uncomfortable if we talked loudly enough for people down there to hear.
We nevertheless got to know the third woman we were with. Her name was Olivia, she was originally from Northern Ireland, her fire red curly hair and delightful accent certainly confirmed it. Her mother ran a local chain of grocery stores, and she had decided to take her gap year before college sailing around the world with her best friend. She was stopping over on her way to India, but then this all happened. She was getting hit on by merchant as she was at the market. When he walked up to her, she shoved him back. He grabbed her wrists after the shove and she kicked him in the balls. He screeched out, which got the attention of a nearby cop. They searched her purse and found some drugs she forgot she still had. They took her into holding while they searched her boat, where they found a bunch more she doesn’t remember ever getting. And being international travelers, they charged her with assault, possession, and international drug trafficking. 16 years, and the part that stung her was that the creep hitting on her will get first refusal for her contract as one of her supposed victims.
Each night, they announce who did worst that day. The one who did worst is brought forward and tortured. Each night it is different, but each creative torture elicits the same muffled screams from behind the gag, and terror in the eyes of whoever was told to come forward. Once that torture was started and explained to everyone, it is also revealed who did best that day. An absolutely delicious looking meal is brought out for them, and then the other cage with a mattress is lowered and the winner is allowed to climb in and sleep on a comfortable mattress rather than the grated metal floor they usually sleep on.
After five nights like that, we were brought down and led to a medical examiner who scanned our necks. It seems they were happy with what they found, because they finally cut off the posture collars, since there was no other way to remove them. They gave us a rundown of what was expected of us as new recruits to the House of Two Palms. Everything we do will be monitored by state-of-the-art equipment, and that even our posture in our off time will be judged. We will each be told our rank each night, and if that is good enough to pass, roughly 1 in 4 fail. There is no exact date when they will judge us to have passed or failed, it will depend on the judgment of instructors.
The first few days were hardest. We were outfitted in heavy metal shackles, though with leather interior to keep from being abrasive to the skin. We were almost always locked to something, and the demands came so frequently, it seemed almost like we never had rest. They had given us all a small implant into our ear canals and it gave them the ability to order us around remotely. Those first few days we all got low marks, we all were told at least once they were low enough to fail us if they continued.
One of the tasks we could not observe from the cage was that the ear implants would feed us commands. They would say a command in English, then repeat that same command in nearly a dozen languages. Not to make us conversational in those languages, but the way you might teach a dog to know sit in multiple languages. The commands were that simple. “Suck.” “Face Pleased.” “Present Kneel.” Eventually, they would expect us to recognize them in the other languages. There was something deeply humiliating about being told to present my ass in a language I do not speak, and deeply confusing when getting the answer correctly makes me feel good for knowing the correct words. And when we were having our more repetitive tasks, holding a position usually, our ears would repeat to us the slaves oath, though this was only done in English for us.
On the third night I was told I had scored lowest. I was terrified, but cooperated as they brought me to my feet. They gave me a gag I was happy to get as I feared what they had planned. In my case they hung me from my wrists and they told me they were going to simulate a fire below me. My feet instantly cried out in pain. As I pulled them up they felt better, but I could feel every part of my body warming up, particularly the parts facing the ground. Eventually I couldn’t hold my feet up any more and started to feel the intense pain of being burned. This time as I raised my feet it did not get better. My skin was telling me, through my NESIC2, it was in flames. I tried kicking fast, but the wind didn’t seem to put the flames out, they began to crawl up my legs. It was the most terrifying pain I had ever experienced in my life. By the time it reached my hips, I had lost all mental thoughts to fight it, every part of my brain was preoccupied with the pain it was being told I was undergoing. I felt like my screams would ruin my throat, but then I felt breathing in flame and I realize I had never known how much a throat could say it hurt. It was around then I finally lost consciousness.
I woke up again as I was let down and my undamaged feet touched ground. They brought me back to my little alcove, sitting beside Olivia and across from you. The middle link of the chain connecting my ankle cuffs are fed into a rod on the floor, a restraint Olivia and I share. The two of you consoled me as much as you can within the narrow rules of what you are allowed to say and do to other trainees. That was the night it started becoming much more real for us all. We needed to be good slaves; the alternative is simply too terrible to allow.
You especially started doing well after that. Maybe it’s your innate desire to get good grades starting to kick in, maybe you found some zen to the routine, I don’t know. One of the nights you even scored second best, and you even seemed to be fighting a smile when you heard that, since smiling would be a facial expression that when not called for could lower your score. Olivia and I started doing better too, but both of us still ranked at levels that bordered on failure most nights. But both of us seemed to be working harder at it than you. We were putting everything we had into it, or at least thinking we were.
These trainings were most often in this main large room, the kind we had observed from the cage. Though what we hadn’t observed was that not only did our NESIC2 punish us for failure, usually with what felt like a small electric shock, but it would reward us as well. It had control of not only mimicking nerve signals but directing most hormone production. So it made sure that when we were sucking a cock, a small part of us rang out an endorsement of what we were doing. It was weaker with simply a dildo, but when actual flesh and blood cocks were in our mouths, we were made to feel positively jubilant. But instructors would judge our form, and give hints on how to better please, better fuck, mostly men but often times women as well.
After the first few days, we were also on occasion brought out to other rooms, usually decorated with luxurious appointments compared to the squalor of stone and metal grating we spent most of our days in. That was when we practiced manners, being a good servant, quiet but always ready. It included strength training for our arms, holding out a pitcher of water fully extended for minutes on end without shaking. The rewards seemed smaller here, but the punishments for failure were significantly higher. Rather than a quick shock we were instructed to go to a pole for punishment where we would have to lock our own cuffs up high above giving out a clear and unobstructed view of our back. The chip made it feel like we were taking heavy whippings, and we were expected to never scream and always finish each hit with a count and a thank you to our master. Whatever bullwhip it was simulating, it felt like after 10 or so that my skin should be breaking open, but I’d always end the day without a real mark on me.
They had begun to add into the rotation of training, how to satisfy a large group. 6-10 men, occasionally a few women as well, would be waiting in a parlor where I would walk in and somehow had to figure out a way to not leave anyone out. It was about not only pleasing as many as I could, not only switching between participants, but presenting a pleasing show for all those not directly involved at that moment. I don’t know where they came from, but I’m sure it’s not hard to tempt men with the prospect of free sex. With only so many holes and hands, it was something that took real strategy, and of course we were graded at the end as well as punished against a whipping pole for all the degrees below acceptable we were. And yet, the rush I got, the flush and heartbeat and wetness, not to mention a feeling I can only really describe as “sexually proud” for every man who would end by either filling or covering me in his cum. I sometimes worried what this place was making me become, but I also thought that if I was as trapped as I seemed to be, maybe it was good that they were so good at conditioning me to like it. Liking it didn’t always mean I was doing well, but it made me want to try to do well beyond the simple fear of what might come from failure.
After I started to do better there, they began expanding my testing. I was trained in the proper way to bathe people, the proper way to clean in an effective but provocative way, the proper way to massage, the proper way to strip seductively, the proper way to offer someone a lap dance or perform on a pole. They seemed to be wanting us to be slaves not only for sex but for nearly every need an owner might want of an attractive woman at their side. They were a mixed bag for me, but if I did well in one it would hold my confidence through the areas I did poorer with. You annoyingly did almost better in these side-tests than anywhere else.
Then one night, very late, there was a minor power outage. The electromagnets that usually hold our collar and wrist shackles turned off. A woman dressed in black with a ski mask came darting in, holding one of the comically large keys needed to unlock the bar on the ground that holds our ankle shackle chains. This meant for the first time, Olivia and I weren’t locked to anything. The woman in the ski mask who just unlocked us lifted up her mask enough to show herself to Olivia.
It was Olivia’s best friend Ellen, which nearly broke Olivia to see. Her friend had apparently found someone who was very good with computers to hack into the security system and buy them some time to escape. But they needed to leave now. Because of the mechanics of how they locked us up, there was no way to unlock Olivia without also unlocking me. You, you were locked to a different rod. I tried the key Olivia’s friend had but it wouldn’t unlock you. I was suddenly conflicted, I didn’t want to abandon you but this was my chance.
That’s when you broke down, you started begging for me to not leave you here. You were blubbering, crying profusely in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you. It was breaking my heart, but I didn’t want to pass up this chance to escape. I apologized and turned to leave.
Then you called me Ega.
I froze. I looked at Olivia, then back to you. You pleaded, “Ega, please don’t leave me, I can’t do this without you.”
I looked back at Olivia who had nearly made it to the door but was looking back to see if I would join them. I started to have my life flash before my eyes, me and you. I couldn’t. I felt it was the bad move, but it was the only one I thought I could do. I couldn’t look back at Olivia, I simply said “go, get out while you can.”
I started to cry nearly as much as you were as I crawled back to you. I began to hug and hold you as we both cried through the otherwise mostly quiet room. About ten minutes later, the power came on. About three minutes more past that, overseers came in, and they saw me clutching you. They took both of us and as a reward for loyalty brought us to one of the bedrooms they use for training. We were still each locked to the headboard by a short leash to the collar, but it was a far cry from the way we usually slept. I couldn’t help but think I had made a huge mistake to pass up the opportunity, but I drifted off to sleep anyway.
In the morning we were awoken rather suddenly by our chips. Our covers had been removed and a group of five people stood around the bed talking to each other and having a bit of a debate. Once they seemed agreed they informed us that they were surprised I stayed and asked why. I replied that I just couldn’t leave, that we’d been together for so long, and so I just couldn’t walk away from her.
This seemed to be a positive answer, however it was they were judging such things. They then told us what will happen to us. The House very rarely will match two slaves together, treating them as “Mirror Slaves.” The standards are higher, a failure from either is considered a failure from both, but it means that we will be kept together. It didn’t seem like they needed our permission to move forward, but that they did want to gauge our reactions to know if we would work well together. I looked you in the eye, and while you hesitated a little to know we’d be judged together, I knew the only answer was yes.
Seemingly satisfied, the five who were judging us left, and in walked two handlers who quickly brought us to what looked like a makeup room. It had large mirrors, plenty of lighting, and a soft swivel chair in front of each station. The only thing that made it look any different from a hair salon was that around the chairs were several loose leather straps. They helped us fit our feet through two as we sat down. I accidently tugged at one and it snapped tight, something they then did shortly after to the other three around my legs, pinning each leg independently to the bar between the chair and footrest. Arms came next, followed by the closing of several belts over our torso and thigh. With all of them activated we were tightly pulled so that only our head, fingers and toes were mobile.
I then got a barber's apron over my body as the one who had tied me down did in fact start cutting my hair. You meanwhile had your chair extend and flattened out, while your attendant got out a tattoo gun and began engraving something onto your left hip. Thankfully, for once your chip seemed to actually be used for good as you didn’t feel it at all. We both seemed to be done at about the same time. You got a pair of interlocking rings, one black one red. I got an asymmetric cut that buzzed my right side very short while leaving enough in the middle and side to just barely hang over one ear. In a more than predictable fashion, the two attendants then switched subjects, giving you a haircut and me a matching tattoo. This time your left side was buzzed and the tattoo sat at my left hip, making us mirror reflections of each other.
They finally released us and let us look ourselves over in a tall mirror. Perhaps it was the new haircuts, or the fact that we had both been shedding weight thanks to our chips, but I’m not sure we had ever looked so similar since all those years ago when you went through puberty a little earlier than me. We were naturally standing so that our tattoos and hair faced each other, and that seemed the sides they wanted us to stay on as they put a short hobble chain between my leg and yours. A slightly longer chain was connected between our collars with a big O right in the middle and a short leash hanging from it. They told us we were no longer Andrea and Megan, I was now Left and you were Right. One of the staff grabbed hold of our shared leash to guide us both around.
We were to our surprise not brought back to the main hall, we were brought to a very small alcove of a room, slightly smaller than a typical jail cell. There was a prison style sink/toilet and a single bed, if you can call it that. The bed was on the floor, the mattress seemed narrower than a standard twin, and had padded walls a little more than a foot high and about 4 inches thick all the way around it. We were instructed in our ear to use the toilet (or “alhamam” as it had ordered me in Arabic this time) and then we were shepherded into bed. We faced each other and felt as our arms were freely pulled around each other before being locked with a chain. They then freely moved our legs to intertwine so that we each had a leg pressed against the other’s crotch. Then they moved our faces closer to each other by hand, making our bodies fully embrace. That’s when they got out the last chain, locking your septum piercing to mine to lock our noses at most an inch apart, though thankfully a thin pillow kept the angle of our necks from being too bad.
It was a difficult and two person job for either of us to look significantly around, we only had each other to look at. We heard the door close and most of the lights went out, save for a small amount of lighting that turned the room from cold office fluorescent to warm bedroom yellow. That is when they really started turning everything up through our chips. Both of our breaths began to quicken, and when we synched up our breathing our chests inflated into each other which rewarded us further with all kinds of positive sensations. At particularly heavy breaths, our hips would move and such little brushes were still feeling as strong as the best sex I’d ever had. I closed the gap first, going in to lock lips, it meant you began to grind intentionally first, moaning into my mouth that I don’t want to let go of because it simply felt so good. My lungs had to remind me that even great kisses need air between them, and began to try breathing through my nose so that I never had to stop the kiss.
This would go on for hours at a time, but we would just not climax. Our new chips could block any signal it wanted, and so no matter how much we did, we would never finish. It was maddening, but there was no ability to rationally take over and stop the things that will only lead to more frustration. Every few hours they break us up, get us to the toilets and let us replenish our fluids and nutrition. We knew exactly why they were doing this, there was no subtlety to it. They wanted us to crave each other, even absent input. But the sad truth is, it didn’t need subtlety to be effective.
Particularly after the third day when, seemingly for no reason we were both allowed to finally climax. They elongated that feeling for the rest of our time together which made every touch and tingle seem overwhelming and too much, but also the only thing we wanted. They leave us unattached (except at the ankle) for sleep, and based on that it was only the fourth day by the time even the sight, even the touch, sent me obsessing to want more. The climaxes were seemingly at random, and interspersed by anywhere from a few hours to a few days apart. We were hooked on each other like a gambling addict was hooked on the random payouts of a slot machine.
By the eighth morning, we were finally released from that cell and brought to a decorated bedroom. At first it was to meet with two instructors, they taught us not only how to please each other, but how to do so in ways pleasing to watch. A few more days of that and we seemed to have graduated back to entertaining large numbers of guests. Though this group started at 9 and only went up from there, with as many as 25 after one time.
It was still training and carried with it the same virtual bullwhip that failure had always carried. For me there was very little increase, but you admitted to me one night that it was a lot more than you had been getting before. I tried to apologize, since most of that increase was because of my own performance, but you wouldn’t hear it. By your telling, if I had left you there you might have given up. As you saw it, I wasn’t hurting you I was the thing that, logically or not, was motivating you to keep going. You suggest that before sleep we run though every mistake we noticed the other made to call attention to it, and as tedious as that was when you wanted to simply sleep, it did slowly begin to lift our overall performance and decrease our virtual whippings.
Many aspects of what goes on at the House are never really explained to us. Not sure if it’s to make us more off balance and pliable, or if they just want the freedom to play things by ear. How many are being trained is a constantly rolling list, 2-4 show up at a time, and seemingly at random others are escorted away and we simply don’t ever see them again. We don’t know if they pass or fail, but it is always the same two people that come to collect someone before they “graduate” to whatever is after this. We are always on our own schedules, we don’t eat together or even always sleep together, there was a daily public punishment of whoever did worst that day, but as we went on we found out not everyone was even brought to that every time, only those who aren’t busy in the other rooms.
The one exception so far had been when we all gathered in what looked like an old auditorium a few days after you, me and Olivia were let down from our ceiling perch. All the other slaves in training were there, faces I recognized, all locked by a short lead to an anchoring U-shaped hook in the floor. We were all instructed to “present kneel” which is a command to make a particular position with our legs slightly agape and hands behind our back puffing out our chest. We all seemed to be in an organized semi-circle around some kind of small stage that had an upright plastic container that looked about the size of a narrow casket.
Once everyone was settled, a voice began speaking in our ears, giving every girl there an explanation in the language of their fluency. It explained that several months ago a trainee attacked a guard, knocking her out, in an effort to escape. This short-tempered tomboy had been too dumb to think of a more elaborate plan, and so she got lost looking for a boat to steal and was cornered by staff. They projected an image onto the tall plastic container what Diana looked like after they caught her. She was brunette, round face, only modest breasts, but exquisite muscle definition like an active athlete might have. The voice returned to explain, seemingly with pride, that there was no Diana any more, her new name is Ditzy.
A presenter of sorts was on stage explaining some of the changes they had made to her. They said her ear implants will listen to hear if she ever says her old name or some variation of “I’m not Ditzy,” which they explained would trigger an irrevocable torrent of simulated excruciating pain for her. The punishment time started at just 15 minutes, but an additional 15 minutes is added for each time she’s violated the rules. At this point, a violation would subject her to two hours of feeling like, among other tortures, her skin is both boiling in oil and being killed off by frostbite. Otherwise, her ears would be giving her at low volume her own personal mantra forever: “Ditzy is dumb, Ditzy is horny, Ditzy loves cock, Ditzy is toy, Ditzy is thing, Ditzy can’t think, Ditzy is slave.”
The projected image went away and the plastic box opened. The woman that walked out bared almost no resemblance to the image of the woman we had just seen. She had a deeply exaggerated outline, to an almost cartoonish level. Her breasts were now quite obviously fake and each one was essentially the size of a volleyball without an inch of sag. Her lips were now massive, puffy, bright pink and slightly open. Her skin was a darker, unnatural, spray tan color. Her hair was now a very light blond. Her ass was made larger, her waist significantly narrower like something only a very strict corset could create. There was no place left that had anything like muscle density. Her fingers had bright pink artificial nails to replace her removed natural ones so that they never grow or fade. Her feet were inside clear platform heels that were sealed and unremovable. Even her face seemed taller and more angled, like a runway model or a barbie doll.
Ditzy walked up to the edge of the stage and declared “My name is Ditzy, I’m just a dumb bimbo who needs to be told what to do,” ending the statement with a bubbly giggle. What made some almost laugh was the very high pitch she was forced to say this at. Her vocal cords had been altered to make her voice sound high pitched. This was an especially big deal to the other trainees who had been there long enough to remember her former rich, somewhat deep voice.
A naked man walked on stage and Ditzy’s eyes went right for his long cock. It was explained, through our ears, that Ditzy had been hardwired to be obsessed with, even addicted to, cock. She now salivates at the sight or smell of it, and her knees get weak making her want to get down on her knees rather than continue to stand. If she goes more than eight hours without her NESIC2 feeling a real cock inside her and tasting cum, she starts to get what feel like the early stages of withdrawal. After 18 hours she starts to feel a kind of hunger, like one might for food, but simulated to be radiating from her whole body. After 36 hours she will have cravings as strong for cock as someone dying of thirst has for water. By the third day she will be a wreck, like an addict at the height of withdrawal. She will be held there indefinitely forever onward until she feels a cock inside her and tastes its cum. Either one will have the clock reset.
They also brought out an absolutely gargantuan dildo on a small platform table, the dildo was nearly two feet long and as wide as a forearm. Ditzy was ushered forward and directed to sit on the table the dildo was on but just behind it. The top of the dildo reached to nearly her rib cage, and yet when directed she stood up, moved forward, and then sat back down taking the whole dildo into her. They had obviously altered what had once been her uterus and now we even saw a bulge along her whole abdomen where the dildo rested inside her. As she bounced up and down we watched the bulge move, it was surreal. They even explained that when she flexed the muscles in her abdomen, it constricts along the whole shaft, giving her the power to make it as tight or loose as she wants.
And while there was no demonstration, our earpieces told us that her chip is also specially calibrated, that no matter what she tries to do in life, the only way to feel pleasure is sex. No fabric can ever feel enjoyably soft, no food can ever taste enjoyably good, no rest can ever feel enjoyably rejuvenating. The neuron signals to tell your brain you like something only get activated for her by sex.
The staff through our earpieces then went on to explain that they normally don’t show what happens to people who fail, but that when someone fails in an attempt to undermine the House they show everyone what becomes of the people who do that. And yet, as bad as that was, a few days after it happened we had largely forgot about it in all the crazy day to day demands and events.
Forgot about it at least, until we were brought back into that same room a second time. We were still chained together, so we were sat in the front and told to “present sideways” which was a position of laying seductively on our sides with one leg bent and our bodies propped up by our arm. Everyone else however was brought in to “present kneel” just like they were before the unveiling of Ditzy. This time however there were two upright plastic containers, and a metal pole with collar and cuffs meant for someone kneeling to look back at the containers. It didn’t fully click all of what was happening until they put up an image of Olivia on one of the plastic containers. They opened the other container and brought out, unaltered, Olivia’s friend, pulling her over to the poll and strapping her in facing the container so she could have a full view of whatever was inside that container once they opened it. They placed a kind of strange face mask on her, preventing her from closing her eyes or moving her head enough to look away. I fought against showing emotion on my face but I failed to stop my lip from quivering or my eyes from watering.
When they opened the container, a person walked out but it was hard to see our friend. She was always a little short, but she had seemingly lost several inches more, making her as short or maybe shorter than Zee. And that reduced height was all the more surreal once I noticed her legs were in ballet slippers and en pointe. She didn’t seem physically able to flatten her feet, if that was still in fact her feet and not simply a disguised lower leg. Her breasts had been grown only slightly in a way that looked very natural which, thanks to her chip sending out the proper signals for hormones, they kind of were. Her hips had been reduced in size, making her seem even smaller by comparison. She looked like she weighed 80 pounds at most.
Her ears had been dramatically altered, they not only pointed but they were now nearly twice as tall as a regular ear, with the tops able to poke out of her hair like an elf. Her freckles were gone completely, and her skin had taken on a green color. Her skin was also crisscrossed with several raised scars that patterned themselves like strings of ivy with occasional leaves and flowers. The flowers were then colored purple or red or pink and the ivy colored a slightly darker green. Combined with the fact that the skin was raised gave a very convincing illusion of being something other than her own skin. Her eyes had been tattooed a black color, so her blue iris was set against black instead of white giving her a haunting look. She opened her mouth in a toothy smile, before letting her jaw open unnaturally wide. Her tongue was now a richer red and more than two times longer, with the additional length narrowing to more of a point. Her bright red hair was about the only part of her the stayed mostly the same, it had been allowed to grow freely and was now long enough to cover her breasts completely.
They explained this forest nymph was a very unfortunate soul. She left her realm never learning to speak, she can only moan or yelp. They gave a demonstrative slap to her ass followed by a pathetic little yelp that sounded like something an injured bird might give out. They also explained that she’s much more sensitive, all sensations she feels both good and bad are nearly tripled in magnitude. She is also more flexible, as was demonstrated by her effortlessly rising one leg over her head while still standing on the other. The angle of the bend seemed unnatural, her leg did not kick out in front of her but twisted around her side with her knee landing roughly at her armpit. That split also allowed them to explain all the significant changes to her crotch.
They tightened her sex, moved her asshole slightly higher, and somehow created a third hole in between the two where the taint would normally be. They stuck a finger into her third hole and Olivia loudly moaned. They explained this was a special origin only forest nymphs have that are meant purely for pleasure, lined with nubs that vibrate powerfully if anything goes inside, powerful enough vibrations to be felt in her other holes as well. The nerves inside are also significantly more sensitive and therefore it is much more pleasurable for her than any other kind of sex. They also showed off with pride the very complicated tongue. They pointed two fingers like a finger gun at the front of her mouth and allowing her tongue to wrap all the way around it and begin to slide up and down..
It seemed that the bulk of this sales pitch was aimed at Olivia’s friend, who was in desperate tears now. Once it was over though, “Olivia” finally put down her leg and walked, slowly, over to her one time best friend. She planted her crotch directly in her former friend’s face. The person on the stage instructed her to pleasure the poor nymph, but she couldn’t make herself. Even after she started receiving strong shocks from her NESIC2, she couldn’t open her mouth to do that. Once it was clear she would continue refusing, “Olivia” walked back slightly, only to then piss all over her friend’s face, though being careful to keep most of it out of her eyes. Once she was out she walked backwards and took a bow.
They gave us the same speech they had the first time they’d trotted out one of their alterations, but this time I couldn’t listen, and this time I wouldn’t forget about what we saw after a few days. That night you hugged me tight and murmured “that could have been you.” I did not sleep well the next few nights thinking about that fact.
It was difficult for a few days after that, we messed up a lot more than we usually did. I was starting to worry we might fail, that you would fail because of me and the thought of failure went back to “Olivia” the forest nymph. It was a bad cycle, but I was too afraid to mention it. Well, being chained to each other all day it’s not easy to actually hide it. By the third night you pushed me. Very unlike you actually, very confrontational not willing to give my bullshit a pass. It turns out you were so aggressive because you were blaming yourself for what you said a few nights ago. We came together in our shared worries about being the one to sink the other. I don’t know how that helped but somehow it did. We started doing better again, and so we made a point of laying out our worries to each other at the end of every night. It got repetitive, but we were afraid in an almost superstitious way that if we stopped we’d slide backwards again.
The days really blurred together, so I can’t give you a good guess at how much longer after that, but a while later we actually went a whole day without a single mistake. We were weirdly proud of ourselves. Over the next week we had three more perfect days. The next morning, we were awoken by the two people who had always been there to fetch those who were done. We were feeling slightly confident, though we actually hid it well. But we also had help containing any kind of exuberance, because if we did in fact “pass” then the prize we’ve won is leaving the House to serve out the rest of our contract as someone’s sex slaves.
We were brought into a small room where three of the four walls are one way mirrors. Lights began to blare and we got the command “posición presentar” (position present) which required us to spread our legs shoulder length apart, hold our hands behind our back with our head straight forward but our eyes downcast. We both took position without even thinking about it. We then had to hold it for some time. We were sure it was some kind of final inspection, so we knew no matter how tempting we weren't going to move or speak. We were so drilled by that point we almost couldn’t unless we really wanted to anyway.
Half an hour or so of holding this pose, a speaker I didn’t know was up at the ceiling started talking. “Left, answer this question. Have you been treated well by us?” It was a strange question. They had never checked in on our feelings before. They had tortured us for small infractions, they had tormented our psyche showing us their creations, they had handed us off to groups of men to be used, they took away our names, they are preparing us to be sex slaves, they had made otherwise straight you crave me sexually. They punish us for lying, but how could they possibly expect us to say to that? Well, for me to say that. I however didn’t want to delay too much, and realized how I can say something that is both true and doesn’t erase what happened to me. “I have had hard times but punishment and training is supposed to be hard. There’s supposed to be pressure, without it you couldn’t make diamonds.”
There was then a few minutes of silence.
The speaker returned, “Left, answer this question. Do you think you are broken?”
This came less out of nowhere, so I felt much more prepared. “I’m changed, but I’m not broken like machinery breaks. I am not brokenly dysfunctional or brokenly.. brokenly prone to error.” This followed another few minutes of silence.
“Left, answer this question. Can you still be happy without regard for and independent of your master?”
“Yes,” I replied, this time with a slightly longer pause trying to figure out what they were trying to get from me. “Yes, I still feel emotion, I am still human, I can laugh and cry and smile. I am just now disciplined to not allow my mood to diminish my service.” The questions stopped after that. I don’t know if I helped or hurt us, since we are a pair but I was the only one getting questions. We stood there for maybe another hour before we were led out. We were given a surprisingly good meal, I suppose a kind of last meal. We were told only after the meal that we had passed, and that we would be leaving today to live with our new masters. You asked rather bluntly “shipped together, is that correct sir?” before lowering your head again. The two simply nodded their head, which caused me to squeeze your hand. That got the message across and you smiled.
They brought out a small remote control, about the size of a few credit cards sat on top of each other. They explained what the buttons did, and showed by demonstration that if either of us tried to press a button it gave off a powerful shock. But under their control it showed on its small screen a menu of options for pleasure or pain, for either of us or both. The permanent buttons were programed as either a generic shock punishment, or a call that allowed the remote user to whisper commands into the remote that would then get transmitted to the implants in our ears. A way to call for us discreetly, and punish if we failed.
After a bathroom break we were directed back to the chairs we had gotten tattoos in earlier. They came out and one at a time put the logo of the House on our sides, showing that we had graduated. There was no pain we felt of course, we also were not strapped down this time. Even still, we were both starting to getting tired. They explained it was the food, a sedative for travel. I hadn’t even considered the detail of travel, but as the wheeled out a large plastic container, like the kind used to unveil “Olivia” I started to panic. I started to worry we had actually failed, and this was all to make sure we would go quietly. Our last day had been a bit of a backslide even if the week itself had been good, and they said we were to be judged by very harsh criteria. But there wasn’t much I could do. You had fully gone to sleep by then and I was less than a minute away from joining you.
I regained consciousness by you shaking me awake. We were lying in a padded container, our only light was several air holes about the width of a finger. My first question was to ask where are we. You didn’t know, but you did tell me it involved a plane, you had woken up for a little bit to the feeling of a plane landing, and outside the holes you saw the inside of a cargo hold. But you then fell back asleep again and only just woke up that moment. Our collars were chained together, but at least not by the nose as we had gotten used to sleeping, thought that may simply be because of the realities of travel and the fact that we aren’t strapped down. We also now each had golden rings through our noses, which was something I had particularly mixed feelings about. It meant it wasn’t a ruse, but it did have the effect of visually reinforcing our status as slaves.
I crawled as close as I could get to an air hole to see what I could see. It wasn’t much but I had a bad feeling. We were up against a window about one floor above street level, because I could just barely see electric trolly wires and some businesses across the street who had everything written in Chinese characters. Because of the way the padding works, the air holes only really offered a tunnel view which meant we couldn’t move around and look at other angles. All the other holes we could get to showed a mostly empty interior of some kind with wood floors, and that’s all we could see. So all we could do is wait to find out where we were.
We occasionally heard creeks of someone walking around, but we never seemed quick enough to catch sight of who made them. We didn’t want to call out, for all we knew they didn’t speak English and we just went through training that emphasized “don’t speak unless spoken too.” After an hour or so, you broke the monotony by giving me a welcome but nonetheless surprising kiss. To our silent mutual discovery, our NESIC2 chips still registered it and still gave us nice pleasurable reward for it. She then pulled me in close and whispered quietly “whatever is outside this box, I’m glad I’ll be facing it with you and not alone.”
We then heard in the distance a door slam. Someone started walking loudly over to us with someone else following behind them more softly, likely one in shoes and the other not. We heard muffled woman’s voice say what we think were the words “I waited.” Then there was the sound of a power drill quickly unscrewing all the fasteners that apparently held the top on. You and I both looked at each other, holding hands with our uncharacteristically free hands, bracing for whatever was on the other side.
The light was blinding as the top was very suddenly removed. The ceiling lights were pointing directly into our eyes, making any kind of opening of our eyelids blinding no matter where we were looking. Someone tossed a blanket over us. I reached out to hold the blanket and began to sit up, signaling for you to do the same so that we could actually take a look around. But what we saw didn’t make sense. Then we seemed to both have the same idea to look back out the window. Right below the Chinese lettering we had seen in the window, the sign read out in English “Golden Gate 24 Hour Market.” As it turned out, we weren't in China we were in San Francisco. And somehow that realization made it more believable that standing in the room with us were Sophia and Lea.
So.. I need to back up a lot for that to make sense, because obviously Zee and everyone else were not just frozen as we went through our own stuff. Also, it’s a little weird that I saw all this as part of my dream, but like I said it was a weird dream.
Back at the party, after Zee watched you and I push her friend off the balcony, she was rightly pissed at especially me. It also turns out that while I was trying to warn her about some vague thing I overheard that Ravi had in mind I was not being particularly intelligible. As far as she saw, I had just got you to free me so I could come back to harass her more and then push her friend off the balcony.
After Zee watched us leave, she wanted to go check on Sanvi right away. Ravi grabbed her hand and said he can just call down. He pressed his hand to his ear and told her she seems fine. That calmed Zee down a bit but she still wanted to go see her. Ravi grabbed her again and said “<wait, shit..>” as he put his other hand to his ear again. “<Someone who saw the fall called the cops. You should maybe take care of all that first, it’s good to be prepared for that and give a statement as a witness first who hasn’t had a chance to talk this over with other people involved.>”
Zee was all turned around emotionally about the last few minutes, but that seemed to make some sense. She quietly made a call to their family’s lawyer which was good to do as some police were at Ravi’s front door nearly at the same time she was done her call. Zee went with them to make a statement but after leaving her alone in a room for a while they started to interrogate her hard. That’s when the family lawyer finally got there, who cleared the room and explained how serious things had gotten. She was in danger because she was the one sponsoring us, and because it was her foot Sanvi tripped on after we pushed her back. Zee started shutting down, she had no idea what to do and had the sudden feeling of what it could feel like to be in serious trouble, yet another feeling her upbringing had spared her experience with.
There was a complicated, technical back and forth that went on, lots more details than are relevant. The bottom line was that moves were made that protected Zee, but without realizing it, ended up exposing us to the full legal threat. Only after that had been done did they share that Sanvi had not survived, and so this wasn’t simply a case of assault. The lawyer looked pained, but was quick to leave with Zainab shortly after that.
It took Zee a while to realize the implications of being driven home alone ment. When she started yelling at the lawyer that he couldn’t just leave them, he apologized, that he was doing his best to do what he was told, but otherwise couldn’t find words to comfort her. Zee was in a blind rage, from where she was sitting it seemed like her family had traded her safety for ours, and then just abandoned us. She went to go find her dad, to find out more about what the lawyer was told to do. When she finds Farhad, he’s sitting with his wife and his older brother Omid around a table. Leyla tried to de-escalate things but Zee was not stopping, yelling at her dad and accusing him of all kinds of things, saying she will never forgive them for this.
She was only quieted when Omid forced his way in to say he was the one who gave orders to the lawyer. It was his lawyer after all, he was the head of the family and he made it clear who the priority was for the lawyer. He said firmly “>If you have a problem with it, your problem is with me.>” Zee was in near tears and simply stormed off. But what Omid had said was a lie. As he then explained to Farhad, he knew none of what he did was intentional, but he figured that if she needs to blame someone it shouldn’t have to be her father.
It took another day to track down and confirm what had happened. Summary judgment had been made, and we had already been taken away. We were being held for some kind of processing for a few weeks before being sent for training for another few months. We would be unreachable the whole time. Zee couldn’t understand how that could happen, but the contract was right there, black and white. After a few days of banging up against walls, both literal and figurative, Zee’s parents with Sophia backing them up convinced Zee to leave for now, return in the summer because there was nothing more she could do. Even though she lashed out at Sophia in the moment, another day convinced her she didn’t have a reason to wait there.
A few days after arriving back, Sophia had fallen into a rhythm in the new house. She worked out a routine of cleaning the house naked to satisfy her contract, always of course when she was alone. She just tried not to think about the cameras in her shower and around the house capturing all that. She even tried reaching out to Rob, but he didn’t pick up. She left a message where she let her anger be known, explained that they were done but that she could unlock his belt if he just called back. He never did, and Sophia was pissed enough at him that she didn’t try harder than that.
Zee had moved back into her parent’s home from the dorms. She knew the school insisted on having a room your first two years, but she found it hard to sleep with all of your stuff there, and especially with a bit of mine. She still went to classes, still did a lot of the important work, but was rather checked out. The first weekend back however, there was an important knock on the door.
OK, so backing up again one more time. Before we all left for spring break, none of us had heard from Lea for months. Unbeknownst to any of us, she had been working at the casino in an attempt to get Sophia’s contract. When that didn’t work, on account of Zee unknowingly beating her to the punch, she took the contract of a friend she had made while there. They had been paired up because of all the face and body scans the casinos had on file, they were the closest to each other.
Lea shut herself off like she does, but her friend (and a friend of that friend) slowly began rehabilitating her. And when they finally checked her phone, opening up her social media, they saw posts from me with Sophia. Lea finally decided with that to reach out, but when she called my phone, I had just been processed and it rang from inside a police locker with the rest of my stuff. She didn’t know Zee’s number, but she did know the address from her one visit down to DC. She eventually got up the nerve to go to the address and see what happened.
Sophia was home alone, and when she saw what looked like two Lea’s on the other side, she screeched and started opening the door only to remember she was naked and close it again to go throw on some clothes first. When she answered the door Lea was speechless and crying. While they caught up some, Sophia tried to put off telling her about you and me until Zee got back from classes, trying instead to get answers about where Lea had been and why there were two of her. Lea only talked in vagueness, seeming to want to save the long story for when everyone was back as well. Sophia couldn’t keep dodging when Lea kept pressing, so she told the whole story from her perspective. It was an emotional rollercoaster, starting with the lifelines Zee gave her back at the casino, the special “exotic reality” job, Rob and that whole thing, how Zee got her contract and flew her to Surda, ending the story with the party, our arrests, and our sentences.
Just as Lea was fully processing what this meant, Zee came home. Sophia hadn’t warned her so she just walked in to a very emotional room, and a pair of Leas both getting emotional. And even though they had gotten off to a very bad start those months ago, Lea ran over and hugged her now. It was a few more days though before Lea felt ready to share what she had been through, how she sacrificed herself to be signed up for that torment in an effort to save Sophia, and that it wasn’t even needed in the end. It was a lot to unpack for all of them.
Zee would check in with people back in Surda at least a few times a week, and for nearly a month she got no answers. Then, suddenly she had all of it. This period of silence was while we were getting the new chip and having it calibrated, but once we were up and about, it was recorded where we were. A grooming facility for sex slaves, and that in all likelihood we would be there for several more months and totally unreachable. Zee almost wished it was more silence, because now she had confirmation there was nothing she could do for a long time.
Sophia researched as much as she could, she had been conversing with the contract bureau lawyers enough now she felt she knew what to look for. She confirmed we were unreachable, and also that if we didn’t finish it would count as a contract failure and we’d get an even harsher sentence. Either from the harsher sentence or at the end, we would have our contracts auctioned off, but there was a clause giving those personally wronged by our crimes the right of first refusal when our contracts become available. There was the immediate family of the woman we knocked out the balcony at the top of the list, but then below that Ravi was listed. It wouldn’t give a lot of detail of how he got on the list, but she passed this along to Zee and hoped it would be helpful. Zee was confused why he would be on that list, but nonetheless tried reaching out to him to figure it out.
So, that “other stuff” Sophia had been talking with the contract bureau about had more to do with her than us. She had been giving hypotheticals for what would and wouldn’t satisfy her contract, and one idea was going back to how she got along at the casino before Felix took over. If the contract holder owned a business that was at least a little sexual, and lived at the same place as the business, she could live and work somewhat independently. But the number of places that could apply to was.. small to say the least. She shopped different real estate sites, looking for people selling something that could be useful. After weeks of not much she, almost by chance, found what could be the perfect thing.
Well, perfect for her needs at least. It’s a very skinny two story building with a ground floor business, a second floor apartment, and a half-length basement only accessible in the back. There was even a small bit of land that was included in the deed with stairs between all levels, so she could get downstairs from the apartment and to the rear entrance of the shop without ever leaving the property. And the business that was looking to sell was exactly the kind she would need, an adult store that sold videos, outfits and toys. The kind of store that would allow her to fulfill her contract requirements by simply working the register or restocking the shelves. The kind of work she used to occasionally do at her dad’s store back in the day, just with much different products.
A catch, beside the price, is that Sophia can’t own the store, someone else would have to own the store and live in the house. Thankfully, Lea seemed open to the possibility, she recognized the rarity of the find, she had nothing to stop her from moving, and she just barely had the cash if she liquidated. It was a few weeks until the end of the semester for Zee, at which point they all planned to go back to Surda, enough time to fly out and investigate the possibilities in person.
It was more than a bit run down, especially compared to some of the newer buildings not far off, but it was still beyond their expectations. The road sloped gradually down for about a mile and a half before reaching water. The building itself was deep and narrow. The store’s entrance had a small room at the very front, making you walk through two doorways to get in, shielding the contents from the looks of any passersby on the street. It was packed in tightly with rows of products, loosely organized as toys on one side, outfits on the other, and all the videos and magazines at the back. The cashier was at the front and when she realized they were there as possible property buyers, she left her post to show them around personally as the owner.
The owner, who introduced herself as Ellen, showed them to the back where there were several narrow booths along nearly the width of building in dim lighting. The only thing not a booth door was a door at the far end that said employees only, it led to a small storage room with boxes of extra products and the door to the back of the building. Each stall door had a credit card reader instead of a door handle. Ellen held up a card to unlock the door, showing a small seat and a viewscreen across from it with a selection of videos already up and ready. A trash can had a few used tissues in it, and a box of new tissues sat beside it. Everything from the floor to the ceiling looked slightly glossy, since everything was made with a slick plastic coating over it to let it get wiped down easily.
There were black plastic dots that looked like coasters hung at either side of the wall facing the other stalls, with red lights around the rim of one and yellow lights around the other. She explained yellow means empty stall, red means someone is in there but isn’t interested in opening up. Suddenly Sophia noticed that the black covers had a hinge, something that would open up a hole just wide enough for a hand to fit through. There was also a kind of sliding lock you might find on a public bathroom that right now said “private” on a red background. On the side where the lights were yellow, Ellen slid the lock which replaces the private label with the word “open” on a green background. “When both sides of a wall slide the lock to open, it means both consent and the hinge opens up. They can do whatever they want to each other, but we also starts charging both of them a little more than double for their time. Easiest money you can make.” All Sophia saw was that there would be no way to argue working here wouldn’t fulfill her contract, without her needing to leave where she lives and without any actual sex on her part.
When they left the store, the owner stayed inside and the realtor walked them up the front stairs to the top floor. The top floor was all wood, two bedrooms, small kitchen with a single bay window that just barely let you look out towards the ocean. It was already somewhat bare, very little was left since the owner had moved out as much as she could before putting it on the market. In the back there was a small balcony at appartment level, and a small paved patio at ground level. The bare cement sat among a small yard of by unkempt weeds, surrounded by unpainted tall wood fence, accessible only by creaky wooden stairs down from the apartment. From that patch of concrete in bad need of a power washing were a few steps up to the back of the store and a few steps down to a basement.
The small bare basement sat below ground level and only went half the depth of the building. It meant it was only accessible from the back, which was itself only accessible through the store or the apartment. The relator said it had basic plumbing and electrical, originally acting as a kitchen back when the store was a restaurant decades ago. There was even a disused dumbwaiter that led up to the storage room above, but aside from a few more pipes than you’d normally see in most rooms, there was no signs a kitchen had ever been there. The owner never had the money and motivation to actually build something from it when she can’t easily rent it out, since it can’t be a legal suit accessible from the street. The owner used it occasionally as overflow storage, as many empty boxes and crushed cardboard could speak to, but otherwise it was empty.
The connection in the back between the three levels meant Sophia could go between the basement, top floor apartment and ground floor store all without leaving the property. It was going to drain Lea of a lion’s share of her money if she liquidated, but it wasn’t even really much of a discussion. Especially when the realtor framed it as an investment, she wasn’t losing her money she was just moving it into something else.
Lea presented an offer, slightly under asking price but all cash up front, and that night the owner accepted. It was all so fast but it felt so perfect. Lea texted Zee to tell her they bought it, and that they’ll probably be another week or so to get everything in order. Sophia spent the next few days working with the owner to learn the store, an “order” each day from her contract owner Lea that was sexual enough to count. They ended up flying back to DC just a bit over a day before getting back on a plane and coming to Surda.
Zee however, well you know how when she’s trying to problem solve she always keeps it to herself. Well she was doing that again, talking with Ravi without really letting anyone else in. At first Ravi was slow to respond to things, and wouldn’t give her a straight answer about what it means that he’s on the list of first right of refusal listed out. Eventually he said he’d tell her in person, rather than long distance. It helped that there was not much for her to tell, but she had kept her conversations to herself, knowing soon she’d have more answers.
They spent time going over what little progress had been made, but it was all rather unchanged, not that it should be changing just because they were there in person. They even had a meeting with someone from the contract bureau who were headquartered in Surda, even if they had larger offices in larger cities. They couldn’t do much either, once a penal contract is assigned they can’t alter it without the original court changing its ruling. Farhad had apparently even reached out to the Sultan, but his son was a witness and so he would not reopen the matter.
That is when Zee finally went over to visit Ravi. He brought her in and shared that he had been in a relationship he had with Sanvi, and that’s why he was listed as he was. He explained that Sanvi’s parents didn’t like their daughter getting mixed up with him, that the two of them were in love, he began to choke up talking about it. But he also said they were pissed at her too, since she was the one who brought us to the island and that they were inconsolably mad at us. He offered to approach the family about if they would bid on the contracts or if they would pass. The next day he called Zee over to tell her they intended to buy us both and make us miserable, that the father in particular was a sadist and planned to take out his sadistic anger on them.
Zee was devastated. She pleaded with him to do something. Ravi replied with a faux exaggeration “<what can I even offer them? Revive their daughter? You take their place? Some.. I don’t know some third equally impossible thing?>”
A silence fell between them. “<Could I actually do that, would they even accept me?>”
Ravi, faking with the best of them, replied “<wait, you know I wasn’t offering serious suggestions, right? I mean you can’t actually be considering taking their place in some kind of trade, could you? That’s not on the table is it?>”
Zee replied coldly, “<I wouldn’t mind knowing if it’s an option, if only so I could likely eliminate it. I’ve been hitting brick wall after brick wall for months now, and I haven't even so much as been able to make contact. I’m not sure what’s off the table any more.>”
“<It was your foot,>” Ravi replied after a short silence. “<They know you didn’t mean anything but they know you played a part. Maybe they would be open to something.>”
It brought out a lot of emotion in Zee. She had thought a lot about how she didn’t grab her, or didn’t really do anything, and that maybe if her foot wasn’t there she wouldn’t have lost balance and gone for a tumble. Because while it was possible to say to herself that it wasn’t her doing the pushing, or that it wasn’t her that made the legal mistakes the lawyer made, she still had to admit she felt some guilt. Especially because it was the fight she had been in with me that in her mind caused me to push Sanvi in the first place. And yet despite feeling some guilt, she found it harder and harder to rest with the fact that she received none of the punishment even if she felt it was more my fault than hers. It was a conversation she had with herself most of the next two days she spent at her family’s home.
When she came back to Ravi on the third day, she wanted to hear the offer, surely something unreasonable she could reject out of hand. But even though Ravi seemed to try to talk about other things, the tension made it obvious Zee wanted to know if he had heard anything.
He said with a reluctant tone that they were interested. That their tempers had cooled some as the cold reality of how long the contracts last sunk in. And that If they could have the third person responsible, they’d want a five year contract. But they also said that after the five years they would be open to possibly selling over our contracts.
Zee was, conflicted. She had assumed it would be worse, if they were willing to talk at all. It was hard to think of how she could say yes, but at least it couldn’t be dismissed out of hand. Now she had an actual chance to do something to help us, but at a very steep price. She didn’t want another dead end, but she wasn’t prepared for a road like this to actually show up. But she thought it showed at a minimum that they were possibly open to negotiations.
Ravi offered to at least keep talking with them, to see what else they might be willing to accept. Zee thanked him and then went for a long walk, to think things over. When she next heard from Ravi, he said they were concerned about her actual commitment, that she wouldn’t actually we willing to follow through. He said in the message “from the parents” that she should go to a particular business and follow the instructions laid out for her to show she was serious. A “good faith” run, that they said would shave off a month for an afternoon of her time.
Yet, she still didn’t share any of this. She just mulled it all over by herself. A month off seemed like a lot, but it was off time she wouldn’t be doing at all if she said no. As she paced around she came across Lea, leaning against the balcony looking out at the water.
“I never really apologized, for my part in all.. I’m just not one that apologizes very naturally,” Zee said, slightly startling Lea.
“Well, what do you have to apologize for?”
Zee was uncomfortable, but she’d been putting this off for long enough. “I mean, I’m the reason Sophia wasn’t there at the end of everything, why you had to..”
Lea with some uncharacteristic boldness interrupted, “Sophia was fine though. And yeah, it hurt. Getting to that end and thinking she was somewhere awful with someone awful. Instead she was here with you and everyone else. I’m the one that didn’t give you a heads up.. I was, well I was not being the most rational after we got off on the wrong foot like we did.”
“Do you regret it?”
Lea hesitated for a moment but answered confidently. “I regret that in the end it wasn’t needed. I don’t regret trying, because at the time, with what I knew then, it seemed like the only way to save her. Even knowing how bad it was for me, if the option was sacrifice myself for a bit in order to help her for a much longer period of time, it’s no question.”
“How did you get through it though, months of if?”
Lea paused, giving her answer a bit of thought. “Well, the best way I think I can put it is.. I just stopped thinking about time. I was where I was at that moment, I would be somewhere else later, but for now I’m just here. It sounds like it should make everything seem like it takes forever, but I found time just stopped having meaning in a lot of real ways. Thinking forward a few days or a few months, they were all just some point in the future and I thought about what I was in at the moment. I took in sensations, focused on them. Good or bad, you can really keep your mind focused on sensations and pretty soon a whole lot of time has passed and you don’t really feel it.”
Zee wasn’t sure what else to say to her, but when she left she told Ravi she’d agree to a session. But she wasn’t going to mention it to anyone else, not yet.
Zee got an email telling her when and where to meet. It was in the adults only shopping center, a kind of neutral site that rent equipped dungeon rooms by the hour. When she checked in with the clerk at the front desk, she gave her a key card and a room number. It was downstairs, down a very narrow stairway and with a very low ceiling. You felt slightly claustrophobic, and with the low lighting it really sent a shiver down her spine that she was volunteering to go down into some pit. Immediately inside her room, there was a small, empty chest with a note taped to the open lid. It instructed her to take off everything she had with her and put it into the chest, warning that it would lock when she closed the lid. Additionally, she was to shower, shave everything below her eyebrows, and then while still wet restrain herself with the equipment that is out already.
She looked around the room, it felt drafty and cold. The floor wasn’t stone, it was softer even lightly rubberized, but every surface certainly looked like it was all part of a dank forgotten dungeon. There was on one wall a hanging selection of implements, restrictive as well as sadistic, that gave her a brief second thought. But the people at the front desk were clear, this was for just three hours, and at the end she would be free again. Her point of no return passed as she stripped down and placed all her belongings into the box, shutting the door and locking herself into her nakedness.
The only thing that seemed to be a shower was a cell in one corner which unlike everything else was over a metal grate surrounded on two sides by wall and two sides by jail cell bars with a single sliding door. The ceiling of the cell was metal with rubberized holes throughout like a showerhead, but covering the full 4 foot by 7 foot cell. A small can of shave gel, a pink razor, and a few small hotel-sized bottles of soaps and such all sat in the middle of the cell telegraphing it was in fact the shower.
There didn’t seem to be any controls, but as soon as she had stepped onto the grate the cell door began to slide closed. Not so fast she couldn’t bolt out if she wanted to, but she presumed this is just how it’s going to be. She started to unbraid her long hair, but let out a yelp once the door was closed and cold water began falling from every part of the ceiling. It was not ice cold, thankfully, but cold enough to make her want to go faster. She washed her hair first, then herself. She placed each leg up on the cell bar and ran the razor over the very small bits of hair she had before applying a final moisturizer. Once she set that down and stopped actively washing herself, the water stopped. Her teeth were near chattering, and while she could ring her long hair out to a degree, the instructions had been clear to not dry herself after. Even though there was a puffy looking towel on the other side of the door, which was by then again opening, the whole point was that she show she could follow direction.
Over at the other end of the room were several implements of bondage laid out for her. A pair of locking leather ankle and wrist cuffs, a pair of cables with looped ends in the floor, a pair of similar cables hanging from the ceiling, a hood with a ring gag, and a pair of nipple clamps. She put the cuffs on first, locking each of the four as she went. The cool air of the room was now tormenting her wet body as downright cold, but she kept going. She used the larger locks fist to attach her ankles to each of the cables on the floor, before placing a lock in each of the hanging cables. She put on the nipple clamps on before plunging herself into silent, drooling, darkness with the padded leather hood. Reaching out she got one hand locked on easily, and the other one eventually with a bit more trouble.
Then she waited. Her hands had some freedom of movement, but not quite enough to easily reach more than a finger or so together. Her feet were spread only a bit past her shoulder width, but mostly she was shivering. The cold in particular was making the nipple clamps feel unusual and she continued to feel water drip from her hair onto her back. The hood blocked nearly all sound, she tested and couldn’t even hear herself snap her fingers or stomp her feet. It was made more disorienting as she felt the cables holding her hands retract back up towards the ceiling. They stopped only once she was taught, heels off the ground and maybe only half her weight on her feet.
Her first sense that anyone else was there was when someone grabbed her wet hair. They bunched it into a kind of bun, secured with a short rope they let fall in front of her like a leash, clearing all covering from her wet back. That’s when the first lash hit, a single tail whip against her wet back. She hadn’t felt pain like that in a long time, she gargled out a scream. Another dozen or so blows landed, before they switched to a cane which they used on her until here gargling sobs told them she was at the verge of tears. The cold was no longer on her mind.
The cables holding her hands began to move, they were giving her slightly more room but as the base of the cables began to slide back. It forced Zee with very little autonomy to start to bend back and eventually slip so that she lay suspended at about a 45 degree angle with her feet keeping her from righting herself. Once she stopped moving, someone grabbed the rope attached to her hair and pulled it back, tying it off on the ground. It meant she could no longer raise her head much without pulling on her hair. That’s when she felt hot wax land on her stomach.
With her head pointed straight up her drool began to pool, which muffled her cries. Someone mercifully capped her mouth, giving her suction and an easier time swallowing, but it was short lived. She began to feel a weight start to build up on top of her gag, and when the cap was removed, she felt an uninterrupted stream of water enter her mouth. She tried to swallow but more kept coming. All this while the was torment went. The plug was reapplied and it allowed her to clear her mouth enough to take several important breaths through her nose, but she felt the weight wasn’t gone, and began to cry in anticipation of the second round. There was thankfully not a third.
Soon the wax stopped as well, mostly because there was not any part of her torso that did not already have wax covering it. She felt movement around her feet, before they began rising as well, suspending her now totally by her limbs. As her body curled down it landed on a pair of straps that were rising along with her feet. That’s when she felt someone’s cock beginning to enter her ass. And as he got comfortable, a second person, had to be from the angles, well they began flogging. Trying to break up the wax and clear it off with flogging alone. And it seemed timed to each thrust, the two were in synch and the pain was all mixed around, something very different. When they both seemed finished, they both simply disappeared. She hung there in the air, silently, unsure what was happening, but taking advantage of the rest.
After half an hour, though Zee had no idea how long had or hadn't passed, they returned and lowered her to the floor. They freed her cuffs from the cables, before guiding her by the hair into a small cage. She took out the small tube that made it impossible to talk with the hood on, and seemed to take something out of the ears to let her hear better. A woman with a somewhat deep voice began to ask her questions in Surdanese. They seemed to be trying to drive at something, she seemed to doubt Zee would actually be very willing in all this. She says she remembers her being very stubborn and has kept that reputation.
Zee tried to explain why she could do this, why she could manage. It was weird, having to defend why this idea might be doable, having to justify it all out loud, it all made it sound not so far-fetched. At the end of it, she felt keys drop into her lap. She was simply told to wait there, and then silence. But she presumed a test, not exactly subtle, so she just let the keys sit there. It was an hour before she heard anything again, this time the woman told her to unlock the cage. Zee crawled out to the pull of her hair, led eventually onto a kind of padded bench. She felt several straps put over her torso, arms and legs holding her on all fours with her ass and feet dangling over the edge.
She felt a hand guiding her hooded head towards a cock, but nearly as soon as it was in her a terrible pain rained down on the exposed soles of her feet. She fought the urge to bite down, and the man used her scream as occasion to push deeper towards her throat. I can’t remember if I’ve mentioned, her gag reflex is pretty strong. So she was, struggling to say the least. It got better as the cane moved from her feet to her ass, but it was a difficult struggle until he pulled his cock out and sprayed her hood with his cum. That was about when everything stopped, and the woman simply said “this was instructive, the worst we could throw at you and your still here. We’ll be in touch.” After she left, Zee was simply trapped there for another hour and a bit before a staff member came in to let her out. But that time flew by as she simply lay there, piece by piece examining the sensations of leather, of the remaining wax, of pain, all of it.
The next few days were filled with correspondence. All over email, none of it shared with Sophia or Lea. They talked details, still throwing in the occasional “hypothetically” but doing so less and less frequently. They covered what it won’t include. She can’t be left to starve, can’t be left outside, medical needs can’t be ignored, very minimal stuff yet each one seemed to make the idea seem less insane.
Alterations to her can include an upgraded NESIC, changes to hair, a small number of piercings but not anything major. No tattoos, no cosmetic surgery, no kind of hormone transfusion therapy that had become a common way for people over a period of weeks to see major changes to their body. HTT was originally a means for better gender transition than surgery alone could give, but it had expanded to anyone wanting a larger chest, a younger face or a flatter stomach. Of course, the NESIC 2 could mimic some of those functions, altering the production of different hormones or enzymes, but that had been far less publicized since it was not yet approved in most countries. HTT has been common for years, the only downside being the hours you have to spend with your blood being filtered through a machine. It could make some very drastic alterations, especially when paired with surgery, so the fact that both were out was a huge relief.
What hit hardest was the way it really took away all her autonomy. She can not contradict orders about her dress, she could not dictate how she sleeps, she could not contradict orders about where she can go or who she can talk with, she could not refuse any sexual commands or situations, nearly no punishment was off limits short of her needing medical help. It did not require her master or mistress to do anything, they were unbound of any requirements while she would be unable to exist outside the constraints they might give her. She hated that a small part of her kinky depraved mind saw some interest as she tried to imagine it, but that was always still the hardest part. Not even the sex, but the loss of freedom. If they told her she can never leave a room, they wouldn’t even need to chain her she would just be either stuck or in violation of the contract.
But she could still imagine it. And when she imagined it, you and I were there with her. That’s what she focused on. That it would be an intense time, but at the end of it she would have us free, or free enough. A small corner of her rational mind was screaming at how casually she seemed to be drifting towards this decision that seemed like hyperbole not long ago. That part wouldn’t shut up, and she couldn’t think of how to shut it up about it.
So, in an effort to calm her lingering doubts, she went to talk to the parents about what she was considering embarking on with them. Without the hood, without her nakedness, just to see what exactly she was considering signing up for, what she worried we would be in for.
Sanvi’s father answered, he was a little pensive, but invited her in. Zee shared her condolences, he took them with some discomfort. Then in her blunt way, she asked for more details, details about us, details about her, but the more details she asked about the more clear it was that he wasn’t being coy he simply had no idea what she was talking about. When she finally mentioned this all in relation to his daughter, he was suddenly much more talkative, wanting her to leave right away. When she tried reaching out a second time he only said “<Go away I can not talk about this, those were the terms of the agreement.>”
Zee couldn’t figure it out. But a thought began to worriedly cross her mind. She had been getting all this information through Ravi, she thought because they had too much rage to be rational with her. But he had no rage, seemed to not fully know things, and then mention of an agreement. She started to worry that maybe she has had a blind spot this whole time. So armed with anger, frustration, and a sense that something wasn’t right, she confronted Ravi. Ravi stumbled to answer, but as Zee pushed more and more, he eventually seemed to drop a mask.
He sat down to explain, asking only that Zee agree to sit and hear everything. After the incident Ravi offered Sanvi’s parents a large sum of money in agreement for what he highlighted as a non-disclosure agreement. They had not liked how he seemed to have been part of Sanvi cutting them out of her life, but the money was a lot. And while they were agreeing to sign a non-disclosure agreement, a detail among many was that they agreed not to bid on the two women accused of being responsible for Sanvi’s death. It had sounded like a detailed example of “ignoring” the whole thing, stuffed into the agreement between not mentioning it to reporters and not naming publicly those involved, but it’s what Ravi needed most. It left him as the only one with right of first refusal for their contracts.
He had planned to have Zee sign up to join the two of us in service for a few years, the wording of the contract was such that she was bound to the original purchasers of our contracts. She was presuming would be Sanvi’s family, but would have been Ravi. He explained Sanvi was the one woman he had that had been a friend before coming to live with him, and he appreciated having someone like that with him. After learning about what had happened to us, he thought there was a chance to leverage his position to convince Zee to sign up for at least a few years.
He paused for a moment, leaning back. “<And, so now that this is all out there, there is the second half of this conversation. Because I will be acquiring the contracts of both of your friends. That is done, everything secured in that regard, all I have yet to see is what condition they will be in by the time I pick them up. Either they should be very well trained slaves, or they will have failed and I will instead have a pair of blank canvases I can modify in whatever way I might think of. What is not decided is what I do then. The contracts are for 21 years, I could have them until they’re 40. And if I wanted to I could ensure that they are treated in such a way that by the time they are free there will be nothing left of who they were. That is one path for them. Now, there are some things that make that path more likely. If you share what I’m telling you now very widely. If you decide you’re done and storm out. Then it becomes the only path.>”
Zee finally took a seat, feeling like she couldn’t continue to stand.
“<The other path is one altogether more pleasant. It wasn’t a trick, after your original contract would have ended you would have gotten to take your friends. But now I worry you simply won’t trust that. Which, is not an unfair assumption to jump to. So what I’m going to do is offer you the choice for a second path for them. I would certainly like to have their contracts, but that was never my main interest. I want you. And if I had you under contract, cleanly and fully, I would be willing to release your friends the moment you start. Find one person you can entrust them to, and the moment you are handed over to me they will be handed over to your confidant.>”
“<I offer now a blunt trade. One month of your time, for one year of theirs. The two have 42 years together, agree to 42 months and they can be free of me the day you start. I will even continue to pay the monthly cost of their contracts. So the question is, are they important enough to you. I’m betting they are, but if you wish to prove me wrong, you can always seal their fate, but now you have my proposal. I’m finished speaking now so, it would be natural if you have any questions.>”
Zee was quietly debating how to respond. “<So, 42 months, and they’d be handed over to.. I’m not sure who, but how can I do that if you’ve sworn me to silence?>”
“<I simply meant, do not spread it wide. I do not want attention drawn to this proposal, it would not be pleasant to deal with. Fill in those you need, but quietly. If you decide to not be quiet, you’re deciding to reject the offer. And as far as terms, it would be near identical to the contract you have been looking over, with the only difference being what happens to your friends. I am open to some negotiations, but I am not interested in some kind of time wasting delay. The fundamental outline is that I have two someones you would like, and you are someone I would like, there is only so much that can be negotiated within that frame.>” After that, Ravi sat there, letting the silence take over.
Zee got up and began to quietly walk away, only shouting back “<I need to think.>”
There was some back and forth, by email only. She found it hard to reconcile the person she knew with the person he was seeming to be now. But unlike before she now had a skeptical eye, but he always seemed to provide evidence to back up his claims when she pressed him now. She had finally traded back and forth with him over details to the contract enough that she wasn’t sure it would get any better. So reluctantly, she finally included Lea and Sophia in on everything.
They pushed back some, tried to argue it was not just on her to save us, that there might still be another way. But when Zee explained that Ravi really did hold all the cards when it comes to what happens to us, and brought up what Lea had said about her own self-sacrifice, it was hard to push back much after that.
She had gotten a few concessions, she was after all the only one who could give Ravi what he was wanting in all this. She would have a chance to see us before she signed, make sure we were still ourselves. When it came time for that, she went with Ravi to be briefed on our training and eventually to a room with a glass room in the middle where the two of us were standing at attention. We both looked different, she was worried what we had gone through had changed us beyond saving. She got Ravi to get them to ask us a few questions, well ask me a few questions. Because with our matching looks, our attentive posture, our more toned bodies, she couldn’t be sure we were there. But for good or bad, hearing my voice again, it brought tears to her eyes and made it harder to justify backing out. That’s when she went to a recording booth they had on site and recorded her message for us.
Once we were out of the box in San Francisco and eventually curious what happened to her, Lea turned it on and gave us space.
She started with an apology, for getting mad, for several things that all seemed so long ago it felt like a lifetime ago. Then she explained what she had done. That when she signed the contract, our contracts would be handed over to Lea while Ravi continues to pay the monthly cost. At the same time, she would be agreeing to be signed over to Ravi. She would get her NESIC upgraded, and then for all intents and purposes she would be his slave. She would have no requirements or prohibitions except what Ravi sets, so it is likely that she would not be able to contact us while she is there.
The major concession though, is that she was not agreeing to all the time now. In a little over a year, she will have a week when she is practically free and able to leave. If at the end of that week she doesn’t return, the contrat for her is over. If that happens, Lea will have one week to return us to Ravi. There are four of these so called “decision weeks,” the first one after a year but after each week the is only 9 months before the next. How long we are out will depend on how long she stays with him. If she makes it through all 48 months, we will be held by Lea and paid for by Ravi for the rest of our contract. But if she leaves early, we will be returned immediately and the time she saved will simply be at the end of our contract.
As Zee described it all to the camera she started getting visibly more and more shaken. By the end of her explanation she simply leans her chest forward into her lap in the chair she was sitting in. She disappeared from frame but the mic continued to record.
“Why the fuck am I even considering this. This is insane. I.. I fucking a year? No, this is too much. No one would think less of me for backing out now. This is crazy, why would I do this. I.. I mean I’d know.. I, but what so I don’t sleep well? How am I going to sleep at Ravi’s? She’s partnered with Megan, they’ll have each other at least. They’ll always have.. FUCK! No, I can.. I.. I don’t even know all I’m signing up for. He wanted to trade for more time if I was going to inspect things, like I needed more time?”
There was a period of nothing after that but heavy breathing.
“Fuck I’m going to do it aren’t I? Because I’m fucking stupid and can’t just.. I mean, hearing her voice again. How could I keep looking myself in the mirror. Even if I quit in a year, yeah.. Yeah you worked hard to get him to give you those weeks off, added a few months over it. You can make a decision then. But what, so I save them from a few years of time years from now? How does that make.. Wait shit is this still recording?” she said before sitting back up very suddenly with significantly redder eyes. “Andrea, Megan, I.. I love you both so much, not in the same way obviously,” she said, even with a slight chuckle. “Well, I hope I’ll see you all in a bit over year, I’m about to go do a very stupid thing to help you both out. Take care of each other. I love you all.”
And with that the video ended, a sudden and emotional explanation of what exactly happened to get us there.
After Andrea finally took more than a moment’s pause in telling her story, Megan finally spoke up. ”That was.. I guess I wasn’t expecting something so long. But it sounded like you needed to get that off your chest.”
Andrea smirked slightly. “Yeah, I just wanted to get this out, it’s all just bouncing around my head otherwise.”
“So is that the point when you woke up?” Megan asked.
“No, I was just taking a certain pause. The dream went on a little more from there, but there’s a certain quality I think to be said for how open the possibilities of that moment are. What happened to us, what happened to Zee, how we adjusted to our new lives, it’s interesting, leaves it open to interpretation,” Andrea replied
“And what if I wanted to know? I mean this is a lot to take in, I can’t imagine if our lives had turned out that way, going to a place like that. I kinda want to know where it goes, if it’s all the same to you at least.”
“Well,” Andrea said. “I guess if you want to know you can keep listening, otherwise you can leave it up to your own to make up an ending, and move on.”
I LOVED this chapter. It answered a lot of questions and I cant wait to read more. I love your writing style and this has been an amazing story so far.
ReplyDeleteThis may sound like a dumb question, but does Lea keep the cabin too? It would be cool if they all went back there at some point.
Wow, that's a lot of stuff. I'm going to need a long comment.
ReplyDeleteIf I understood correctly this is not the "real" ending so I'm not going to judge until I've seen the others.
In general it's fine that you are summarizing all this for two reasons. First, there are several points in which the plot would be precariously held. Sanvi's convenient death would be the worst. Almost comparable to certain artificial intelligence induced shocking plot twists (you know which ones). The second reason is that I wouldn't want to see this nice girls suffering so much and so unfairly, despite certain amazing scenes like that one with Andrea and Megan sharing a bed, that spider robot thing or those twenty person orgies.
I don't like this NESIC2. From a literary point of view it's like magic, or hypnotism/mind control. It allows the writer a lot of freedom, but it's too easy for the dominant characters. The victims are utterly defenseless. You know what I mean, right?
Still if this one was the "real" ending I'd have a few questions: Would be Kiara living with Lea two years later? Would be Zainab acceptably happy living with Ravi? Andrea and Lea would be more than just friends?
Also I'd say that this nymph idea is really good and it merits its own story.
Sorry, if I've been too tiresome. Thank you so much for this gift.
Not tiresome at all!
DeleteSo, I was thinking of making a post explaining what I mean by "real" endings. But the long and short of it is, the dream described here was going to be the "real" path I had been heading towards since a story or two after introducing Zainab. But once I actually started getting close what would be the trial, I started dreading getting there.
So I started working on a new plot without so much harsh punishment. I started working towards one that would have been able to still incorporate a lot of what I had set up but wouldn't have involved the trial or slave training.
But then I just, wasn't writing much.
So rather than let either idea languish in my head I decided to write it all out. At first they were going to be quick and to the point, leaving out the details like the spiders. Then I decided, why rush it?
So rather than stick to a utilitarian summary, I moved it into a framing device. A little transparent of one, but nonetheless a useful one. So they weren't multiple paths a writer was thinking out, they were dreams Andrea had. And if the plots are dreams, it means the "real" world should be different than either of the dreams.
And I get the criticism of the NESIC2, I even share it a bit! It is a very overpowered tool, but it's a tool that thinking about gets my mind racing. And while it seems majorly magical, it's in the same way the original is minorly magical.
As for some of those other questions, I'm still thinking of going into more of what happens after "the end" I wrote, cause a lot of that could be answered there.
I shall apologize for my insistence, ma'am, but your readers are missing you. Are you still with us?
DeleteOh wow how time flies. I could have sworn I posted this like a month ago.
DeleteSorry, I'll give a post soon outlining near-term plans
I like it ended as you could easily continued on from there or not. Either way, Surda is their go to destination whether or not they there permanently or not. Good job.
ReplyDeleteLike that last line btw.
DeleteVery nice, so glad you gave us an ending point. Still hope you write more, as I love this story and all the girls in it.
ReplyDeleteSeriously, thank you for sharing your writing, and I hope to read more of it in the future.
I'm actually glad you didn't go this route. I'm all for some not so happy endings but I'd feel bad for these characters they finally got Sophia back an Lea was coming out of her depression. When I read the part were they were arrested I was expecting Zee to brake them out an explain it as so kind of punishment for spoiling her birthday party.
ReplyDeleteYes NESIC2 is a bit OP but food for thought: nesic3 allows pairing, sharing inputs with nearby devices. Inspired by Marion Zimmer Bradley's Darkover when telepaths make love to each other and lost track of whose body is whose.
ReplyDeleteHi from Germany. I must say i enjoyed your Story Line a lot. It hit the right triggers in me and made me looking for more. Since you seem to bring this to an end i would like to write with you about some suggestions if you would like to. Greetings Sirabiry Petrick pp.petrick@fantasymail.de
ReplyDeleteHi there. I stumbled across the first chapter of your story on Literotica and I was hooked immediately. The writing was immaculate, the erotic aspects were thrilling, and the depth to the characters was absolutely mind-blowing. Needless to say, I was hooked from that first story. Never have I experienced such a literary work that has drawn me in so powerfully to the characters and made me felt a yearning connection to them. With each new peril the characters face, being torn apart starting with Sophia's contract and escalating into increasingly perilous situations, I can't but feel huge amounts of sympathy, sadness, and a huge desire for a reunion and a happy ending. As cheesy as it sounds, reading each recent part of your stories has left me longing desperately for a form of closure and hope that in the end, everything will turn out fine. I've been struggling with my own emotions ever since reading through every part of this series, and I can feel myself welling up with sorrow every time I think of how truly unfortunate the situations of the characters are, especially with moments such as Sophia's absolute despair at her contract with Felix and Lea's breakdown at not being able to acquire Sophia. These moments are beautifully crafted to draw out emotion from the reader and just display such a mastery in writing.
ReplyDeleteWe currently live in a world where people are being torn apart over human rights issues, political issues, where a rampant disease has limited social contact and only serves to ignite the fuel of these issues. Works of literary art such as your Bound Friends stories are what we need in these times, not necessarily for the sexual aspect but the reconnection with raw human emotion and other characters that show us what is truly important in our lives. I'm not trying to make any political statements here other than more participation in politics regardless of affiliation should happen, but only trying to seek an ending to one of the greatest works I have had the honor of reading, and to remind people that love for one another should always be most important.
I completely understand that writer's block is an extremely tough barrier, and given the situation at hand in the US it might be very difficult for you to find time to devote to this story. I just want you to know that there are people like me who still care deeply about your work and would love it from the bottom of our hearts to witness the final act of Bound Friends. It has been an amazing, if short, journey, and I so so hope that you can share with us the beauty of your writing again.
If you are interested in communicating more, I would love to hear from you at prismaticwaffles@gmail.com
Oh another late reader ^^ Not that this one is so far away considering 2019 compared to the ones from 2014...
DeleteI have struggled with my emotions a lot in especially the first halve of the story... some dark things happened which rattled me always hoping for something of a happy ending and then another thing happens. The chapters got more light hearted without being a fun and happy story about fun people only living the easy life and everything I can not even find words for. The final closure is still missing... a proper Chapter 24 and an as happy as an ending can be in Chapter 25 (maybe skipping the party or a short look at it due to Lea calling right in the middle of it or something like that) to wrap things up for everyone and reach a point from where on out new stories could form in theory but would work as 'proper' ending if never again another Chapter comes.
That is a wish and nothing anyone should force him or herself to do. Forced writing will only suffer.
2 years later... a good time jump and we sadly do not learn what really happened since the last we saw our friends. With Ravi having some kind of plan where his Sanvi help and Lea finally opening up. Of course, for Lea we learned a little bit considering Andrea had dreamed about it, wrapping some of it up but we of course do not know if this is what really happened between Lea and the rest.
ReplyDeleteAll in all, I liked the ending. If Sanvi had to die... a mood point since I found her interesting but it would have driven the story in some direction to facilitate everything and it goes with the theme I feel is tied into the stories: Actions have consequences.
Actually, while the training of Andrea and Megan was not very interesting and NESIC2 is not perfectly up my alley (I too see it as a bit of cheating) I would like to see how things would go in more detail for Zainab. We might still remember how Lea was after only 1 Week with Hannah, barely able not to follow orders. Now expect Zainab, cut off from everyone Ravi does not allow to have contact with her for 1 year under his supervision. Naturally, I would prefer no Ravi interactions since the males really did not interest me in all the stories but still the story.
I still hope, you find time and energy to finish these Epiloges and maybe even extend on the chapters but this is such a long project, startet so many years ago yet back with chapter 24 you even said, this had been planend to be something of a starting point for something new. Since Zainab changed from your original vision, we do not know what that would be but I am sure, that original idea would not be as good as what would have been and I think that, because I do not get the feeling or vibes for that story. I am rambling on here, I know but... that "Original Dream" just feels not right after reading over a month almost each day 1 of the stories. As alternative ending it is working, like a "what if some things were a bit different" but... yes... rambling on... I have something in my head I want to say but I can not put it into words. Lea and Megan surely would know that feeling and having learned from them, fictional as they might be, I better stop here and wish you well in hopes to be able to read more in the future.
Maybe a small request at the end. I found the stories back over at a page... I think it was UtopiaStories... but I am not used to blogger and will likely miss if there ever comes an update. Could you maybe post your stories back there again? And maybe even what I feel might be more active or simply a broader audience who not know about the page but GrometsPlaza. Not that I would know a great many pages for stories but I think these should be shared. I did the same... I mean, sharing to other people who hopefully will enjoy your works as I did.