Freewill (femdom)

[Obscene Cupcake]

Summary: In 2012 freewill in America was obliterated. It happened with silence and acquiescence. Two years later Rebecca Robins (a former dorky high school student who is now a respected Mistress that uses domination, pain, and pleasure to further The Nations agenda) finds herself with the responsibility of training her former neighbor, David Jameson, for the breeding program. For the first time since the revolution she finds herself frustrated and conflicted, and is unable to understand why.


Warnings: One small part with a stereotypical ghetto black girl (I'm not racist >.<;; forgive me for posting a stereotype). femdom (female dominating male), sadism, masochism, manipulation, romance, angst, harems/sex with more than one person, possibly incest, possibly bisexuality, bestiality aspects (but likely no bestiality. You’ll see what I mean). Body modification, drugging, aphrodisiacs. Noncon/dubcon. Whatever sick things my mind can come up with. Enjoy!

author's notes: this is my first attempt at creative fiction. Please tell me how I do.

Freewill
Prequel
2 years ago

__________----

“Isn’t it weird?”

“What?”

Anthony leaned forward in his seat, putting his hands at the very end of the desk so he was closer to her. This way, if the teacher looked over, he wouldn’t realize they were talking.

“About the silence. I mean, even if we ignore the text from Jerry talking about soldiers and if we ignore that we still can’t get ahold of anyone else from most of Saint County, there’s still the thing with David”.
Rebecca pushed her glasses up her nose, and furtively looked towards the other end of the classroom where David, her neighbor, sat. She let her bangs- almost grown out now- fall in front of her eyes, as though the blonde strands would act as an invisibility cloak. It had always seemed to work before. David never noticed her when they were at school. As a child she used to watch him play and yearn to join him. A few times, he would even let her. That’s how she knew that he was different from the others.
He wasn’t an idiot, like most people in her class were. He was able to see life the way it really was, look at it objectively, and put himself in other people’s shoes.

That’s why his actions hurt so much. He’d be friendly, in an acquaintance kind of way, unless they were at school. Then he would never smile at her. At most he would frown. He never joined in with the other kids on teasing her, calling her Ratty Rebby- a reference to her hair that always looked like she just got out of bed, despite her not having a curl to her name and always saturating the slightly wavy strands in tangle-away sprays every morning. But he also made sure never to stand by her, never to be partnered with her, and acted like they hadn’t lived by each other all of their 18 years of life. After all, he was different. He was smart enough to realize that his popularity only came because he acted a certain way, and that being friends with the dorky skinny girl in the glasses was not part of that act.

“What thing about David? He doesn’t live in Saint County.” “Yeah but his brother’s girlfriend does. He was supposed to meet her at her house last night for a date. He never came back. And now his phone isn’t working either. The Robins tried to file a missing person’s report, but the police aren’t acting on it. Jenny, whose dad is a police officer, said that he’s been acting really strange and quite lately.”

“What does Jerry say? Has he texted back?” Rebecca’s eyes roved around the classroom. As exciting as this was compared to the usual monotony of History class, she was sure it was nothing. Nothing ever happened in their town. Nothing would ever happen. Interesting things happened to people on the news or in books. Not in Glennhaven.

“His phone is off now too. I think the only reason it was even working in the first place was because he was using a Cricket phone, and they don’t sell those in our state. I think the phone companies are being told to turn off services in Saint County.”

Her head whipped back around and she frowned, reaching up to nervously curl a few strands of hair. “Why would you think that?” her voice came out meek, and mentally she cringed at her tone. If only she could be confident and witty and say interesting one-liners, the way she always did in her mind, after the conversation was over. Maybe then David would pay attention to her.

“If it were just a power line then peoples’ cell phones would still work. The weather has been fine lately, so we know it’s not that. The different cell phone services have different satellites, so if one went off, the others would still put out a signal.”

Rebecca started to pay attention. “You know what I think it is,” he continued, “I think it’s zombies. Or some kind of deadly plague. I think everyone in Saint County is dead.”

"WHAT?"

"No really," he said with a huge grin. "Think about it. This is just like that movie, 'The Circumstances'. First it came for Saint County. Next it will come for us."

"You know if everyone really is dead, you're going to feel like a jerk."

"Why would I feel like a jerk if I were right?" he joked.

The clang of the bell interrupted any reply she might have had.

"Remember class" the teacher called out, erasing the writing from the chalkboard, "pages 12, 13, and 22 are due monday! Red and blue questions only!"

Throwing her items in her bag Rebecca ran out of the classroom, leaving Anthony behind without so much as a goodbye. Something she would soon regret.

Once out of the school she scanned the parking lot for David's face. He was at the side of the building with his usual group of friends, but his posture for once seemed jittery, rather than settling into a relaxed pose for a long chat. Rebecca stepped back into the shadows.

If she were willing to be honest with herself, she would ask why she was thinking about David so much more than usual now. Not that she hadn't always noticed him. This year was the worst for her though. She knew that if she didn't get the courage to say something soon that he would go away to college and forget her. A good college, too. He was a straight A student, whereas she was strictly an average student. She had no delusions that once he left he would think of her beyond the occasional passing thought, if that.

"Not that I care about what he thinks of me," she whispered under her breath as she stepped out from the shadows and walked forward, mirroring David where he was leaving his friends. "I don't care. Why should I care about a jerk who thinks more about appearance and popularity than he does about anything else? So what if he isn't a sheep, if he can think for himself. I only care about that because I'm a teenager, according to my aunt. In the real world, it doesn't matter if you are a sheep or not. Nothing happens in life, so it's better to have a loving sheep than a sly fox." Realizing that her words weren't making much sense anymore, she quieted down.

"Hey Rebecca" David's tired voice came from a few feet in front of her, and he slowed his stride so that she could catch up. He looked up at her, eyes tired, and she paused. Maybe he didn't want her by him? When he had started to climb the high school social ladder, they had mutually tried to avoid walking by each other on the way home, till it became obvious that it was just too awkward and silly to do so. Maybe he felt different now.

oh wait....

"Tony said that your brother's missing," her eyes screwed up and her cheeks heated after she asked. Where was her tact?

"Yeah. He went to visit Jan last night and never came home. Mom's been frantic. We tried to go down to her house to see what's up, but the whole area is blocked off, like, seven blocks before you even get to her house. There are even guards. They claim that there is some kind of chemical leak or something and that all the people from the area are in safe, ventilated places. We tried to get more information and say that we just wanted to talk to him, but they just kept repeating that he was safe and in an area we couldn't get to. When dad tried to sneak in, they tazered him."

Becka's eyes widened. This sounded serious. She hadn't really believed it when Tony was going on one of his "zombie" rants, but this was happening to someone she actually knew.

"What do you think’s going on?" her face unusually serious, she tried to hold his gaze. It was easy to do, since they were the same height, Becka being on the taller side for a girl. Her light blue eyes caught and held his hazel-yellow ones.

"Honestly? I don't even know. I-" he stopped, looked at the floor, walking in silence for a few seconds, then: "I'm really worried. Becka- I mean... I'm worried.. I'm worried that Brent might be dead." He lifted his eyes back to hers, a world of pain and vulnerability in them.

Even though it was entirely inappropriate, she felt her breath catch and a warm pulse travel through her body at the sight, settling comfortably in her groin. Feeling her cheeks heat she tried to focus. This was more serious than a crush and a few quirks. "I doubt anything has happened. I mean, what are the chances? This isn't a movie, nothing bad ever happens in Glennhaven."

"Yeah but... Becka... all those things we hear about on the news... they all happen to normal people who think the same thing. A lot of them live in places like us, where nothing happens and so they think nothing will. Until some kid brings a gun to school or an earthquake destroys a whole street or until somebody gets kidnapped."

Becka bit her lip, thinking and staring at the way her feet moved on the sidewalk. They walked in silence after that until a sharp "what the hell!" from David had her looking up. In front of them was their apartment building. In front of the building was four men in green army outfits who had guns in their hands. She didn't know anything about guns, but if size had anything to do with effectiveness then they were packing some serious heat. One of the men, gun pointed at the ground, turned a glare on them and barked out "Names? What are you doing here?"

"We LIVE here!" said David. Becka just stared with wide eyes.

"Names?"

Incredulous, David spat out "David Jameson and Rebecca Robins."
The man looked at another, who was busy flipping through a stack of papers attached to a clipboard. He paused, scanned the page he was on, and looked over, nodding at the first soldier.

"All right. I am Officer O’Malley. I'm here to help get all you people to safety today. Terrorists have reached Illinois and begun to set off dangerous chemical bombs as part of a tactic to get the government to release the corrupt dictator Azriel Hasheen. We are under orders to have everyone pack-up their essential; including any and all medication, for what could be a two weeks stay in one of the many local safe points. Inside you will find Mrs. Chance, who will assist you in packing and answer any questions you may have. We leave in one hour. You may proceed to your house now. Do not talk to anyone. Do not loiter. If you are not finished packing in one hour, you will be forced to leave without your essentials. If you pack more than twenty-five pounds worth of supplies you will be forced to leave your essentials. Now go."

David opened his mouth, a furious look on his face, likely about to argue with or interrogate the officer. Becka put a hand on his arm, and he immediately halted, mouth still hanging open. She gave him a stern glance for good measure. "Not now" her look said. They needed to talk to their families. Arguing would get them nowhere; especially arguing with someone who had a gun that big.

David closed his mouth and glared one more time at the officer, before nearly running towards the door in his haste to see his family. Becka followed not far behind.

Inside was chaos. The stairway leading to their floor (the fifth floor) was full of people standing around, gossiping with neighbors, rushing up different levels, and; strangely enough, moving furniture. Usually most of their neighbors would be at work during this time of the day, so she was surprised to see it so crowded.

In the center of it all stood a woman, with a wide smile on her face, perfect white teeth and tightly coiffed brown hair. She was dressed in a purple suit, and had an expressionless guard standing a few feet behind her, one of those large guns clasped across his chest.

"Hello, I'm Mrs. Chase. I'm sorry to meet under such strained circumstances. And who might you be?" she said in one of those overly cheerful voices that secretaries who worked for hugely successful companies always seemed to have.

"I'm Rebecca Robins and this is David Jameson. We live in the fifth floor. 5a and 5b respectively." Rebecca stepped forward with a fake smile plastered on her face and continued past the woman without stopping. "We need to get home and talk to our families. Bye" she dragged David along behind her with a tight grip on his hand, rushing up the stairs.

"Becka!" a high, strident voice called out her name when they reached the fourth floor. She paused, one foot on the stairs, and waved back and forth for a second, almost wanting to ignore it to get to her family. David didn't even pause, taking the steps up two at a time. She could hear him flinging his door open and shouting "Mom!" before it slammed shut.

A heavy set black woman came ambling up to her; Mrs. Jennings from 4b. With each step she took the heavy gold colored jewelry all over her body shook and jangled. "Is that Chance woman on the third floor?"

"Um. She's on the first floor Mrs. Jennings." Becka eyed the small flight of stairs that separated her from her own home.

"Can she see the fire escape on the third floor? Is she in the center by the stairs or is she by the door?" with each word she spoke, Mrs. Jennings moved her hands in a broad gesture, causing there to be a little tink tink tink of background noise to the conversation.

"Um, the middle, so she can see the third floor a bit, I think."
Mrs. Jennings cursed, running one hand over her forehead and unintentionally slicking her hair back with her sweat. Her bangle bracelets clunked down heavily against her head.

"Why do you want to know?" Rebecca wasn't sure what made her ask. She had had every intention of running home as soon as Mrs. Jennings stopped talking, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"Why do I want to know? Child, there is an army out there with guns and guards and some bullshit story that I can’t find hide nor hair of on the news! I'm getting out of here as soon as they aren't paying attention. Pack lightly my ass!"

"But they're from the government," Rebecca said, startled. She too thought something else was going on, but it wasn't like the army could do anything to them. She knew Mrs. Jennings believed in conspiracy theories about crazy things like crop circles though, so maybe her fear was a part of that.

"I know that. Ya'll white folks have too much trust in authority. Not nothing good ever come from us black chilin' listening to The Man when he holds a weapon and tells us we have to get out of our homes, ‘but it's okay, we are just forcing you out for your own protection’.
'Less you rich, nothing good ever come from you white folk listinin' to The Man holding a gun and telling you to get out of your homes either, now that I think 'bout it."

"Um," Rebecca said, but it didn't matter. Mrs. Jennings had already turned back and ambled through her doorway.

_________________________________

"Mom! Dad!" the house was eerily quiet for a second and then: "Becka! Sweetie! You’re home! Hurry, get to your room and pack up." "Becka! Oh fuck, thank God your safe!"

Both her parents crowded in close, her mom running her hands up and down her arms as though she was trying to warm her up, while her dad jumped from foot to foot in anxiety.

"What's going on?"

"Terrorists," her dad said, as though that explained everything. Her mom nodded her head in agreement, lips tight.

"In Glennhaven?" eyebrows lifting up, Becka waited for her parents to share her dubiousness, or explain things further. Instead her mom nodded again before turning sharply to her dad.

"Why are you holding those golf clubs? Those aren't essential!" voice scathing, her mom stared at her dad, lips twisted to the side in a sneer. Her eyes shot darts at his, and her hands clenched.

"Neither is all that jewelry you’re packing away!"

"I'm not packing this! I'm wearing it."

"Get real Kathryn. You aren't honestly telling me that you'll be wearing all that jewelry for two weeks."

“At most two weeks. We’ll probably be back home by the end of the day.”
Her parents continued to bicker, so she slipped past them, footsteps light on the carpet as she made her way to her room.

__________________________________________________

Of course, the first thing she did was try to google what was going on. She wasn't that surprised; though she was greatly annoyed, when her computer came back claiming a problem with the DNS. Next she tried her phone. A tendril of ice whipped back and forth in her stomach when she realized it had zero bars no matter where she moved in the room.

"Emergency calls only" it said in small print, at the top of the screen. She started at it a second, chewing on her lip, before slowly her fingers moved over the keyboard. "9" she pressed as she held her breath, "1" she swallowed. "1. enter". She took a shaking gulp of air and held the phone up to her ear. She would find out what was going on.

"I'm sorry, the number you have called is out of service or temporarily disabled. Please hang up and try again."

She sucked her breath in so fast that her spit flew to the back of her throat, and she coughed out harshly, trying to dispel the liquid. What was going on?

Her panic was interrupted four firm knocks on her bedroom door. Staring at it, she waited a second before going over and opening it.

"Miss Rebecca Robins?" one of the soldiers from downstairs stood in her doorway. She could see her parents hovering a few feet behind him in the background.

"Yes?"

"You are to come with me. Leave everything behind. You'll have a chance to come and get it later."

"What? Why? Can't I just hide my laptop real quick? I don't want looters to get it."

"That won't be necessary. You'll find out why once we get to the Intermediary building."

"But-"

"We have to leave now."
She gazed behind him to her parents, posture radiating insecurity and confusion. Her parents just gazed back at her, similar expressions on their own faces.

She walked out.

"Don't worry," her dad hugged her tightly to him. "We'll see you when we get to the safe point. The soldier promised us they’d be done with you in a few hours." His gaze flicked back and forth over her face, mouth set, searching, as though trying to find some visible clue about why she was being taken away before anyone else.

"We'll see you soon, Sweetie. Just do what the soldier says and everything should be okay. Alright?" Her mom's hug was tighter and more desperate than her fathers, voice heavy with worry.
She wondered what to say.

"I love you. See you soon."

"We love you too pumpkin."

________________________________

Once outside the soldier slid into the passenger seat of a jeep that hadn't been there when David and she first arrived. She climbed into the back.
The man was eerily silent. His muteness seemed punctuated by his unbending posture and stiff movements. Even though she was only a few inches shorter than him, she couldn't help but feel extremely small. Getting in the back made the feeling worse, as she had a flashback of being a child, relying on what the adults around her said with no input or control about what happened around her.
Eventually another man came and slid into the driver’s seat. He didn’t introduce himself, just adjusted his mirror and started the car.
“If there are terrorists around,” Becka thought, “Why are we driving in a car that doesn’t have any windows, that is completely open to the world outside?” She hunched farther down in her seat.

The ride took a good forty minutes. Not because the distance was anything significant, but because there were so many other jeeps driving around, and fences were being put up at regular intervals, making borders where they had to stop and wait before being let through. As they drove she noticed other buildings where groups of soldiers stood, directing people onto busses, or shouting out staccato orders. Everything was strangely calm, and no one put up a fight or argued with the soldiers. Some people were even smiling, and offering the soldiers drinks, movements fluid and relaxed.

As it was a middle class area and barely four o’clock, people were still dressed in their work clothes- formal clothes and shiny shoes. She once again noted how strange that was, and wondered if the shopping district was completely empty without anyone to run the stores.

____________________________-

She didn’t realize they had reached their destination at first. It was a normal building, surrounded by other normal buildings. They were enclosed in fences, but Rebecca had become used to that sight by then, and thought nothing of it.

“Name and purpose?”

“Officer Smithers and Officer Goodwin. We’re her on orders from the preliminary office,” Driver said, handing over some papers and flashing an ID which was attached to his shirt.

“Carry on.” The man stepped aside and they drove through.

While the outside had been guarded by many men and a few women in camouflage outfits, the inside of the building was completely different. Suits as far as the eye can see- All black, all pressed, all perfect and neat. The Click Clack of shoes hitting the floor filled the building, and everyone seemed to be rushing around at a fast place, intent on getting to their destination and giving the impression of a controlled frenzy.

The two soldiers walked up to a receptionist, handing her some paperwork without a word. After reading it she looked up and smiled at Rebecca, gesturing towards some chairs against the wall with her head. “You’ll be called back in just a minute Miss Robins. Please wait over there. As for you two,” she turned her head back to the soldiers, “you’re needed in section C. You better get going.”

__________________________-

She waited there for a good thirty minutes. The receptionist appeared to have already forgotten her, typing on her computer and occasionally picking up the phone, placating the person on the other end with sayings like “He’s just finishing up. We just ran into a little speed bump. I’m sure he’ll be there any minute now,” or, “No-no-no-no. There is no problem. We’re just running a little late. There wasn’t a way to foresee these things, after all. No one has done anything like this in America before.”

Becka tried to listen in to other conversations going on around her, but it felt like people were speaking in different languages. Code this, section that, area A, B, C, or D.

Finally the receptionist stopped typing and looked up. “They are ready for you now dear. It’s the third door on the right. Good luck.” “Thank-you.” “No problem, just doing my job.”

The room she went into was very empty. It was completely white; white floor, white carpet, white table and white chair. It was small, and at the adjacent side was another door. She pulled out the chair and sat down just as that door creaked open and one of those suit wearing walked into the room, holding a thick file while wearing a composed expression and walking with sure steps.

He settled across from her and shuffled some papers around, spreading them across the table. Once he was finished he looked at her and smiled, hand reaching across the table to shake her hand. She met him half way.

“Rebecca Robins. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m John, your intermediary officer here in section C. You must be very confused about what is going on right now.”

Becka nodded, tearing off another thin slice of skin from her lip, which she had been worrying at since school let out. She swallowed her dry throat and opened her mouth. “Um. Yes. I heard something like this happened over at Saint County but I thought it was just rumors. No one seems to be freaking out, but there are people with guns everywhere and my cell phone isn’t working. Not even when I dial 911.”

“It’s a perfectly normal response to be worried. I bet you feel very overwhelmed right now and are a bit confused about why nobody else is asking more questions. You probably feel nervous, like you don’t have any control over the situation.”

Rebecca felt her eyes widen. It was like he was reading her mind. She latched onto this conversation, glad someone was finally talking to her. “Exactly! Nothing is making any sense, but everyone is accepting this like it is completely normal. Everyone is doing what they are told even though they have no idea what is going on.

John smiled at her, and she immediately felt herself relaxing at his prideful and impressed expression.

“Well I’m here to answer your questions. The truth is, Miss Robins, that we are currently in the middle of a revolution. The United States of America has been on a destructive path for many years now. Corrupt officials, dangerous experiments, and idiocy abounds. People can no longer be expected to look after themselves or make choices that are good for the human race. We are going to ensure that the majority of the population is safe and looked out for, without having the harmful responsibilities that most aren’t prepared for. I’m sure you’ve noticed it,” he leaned forward confidingly. “Sitting in class, trying to do your work, and some idiot starts arguing with the teacher and posturing for the sake of his friends. In your mind you think ‘why are you doing this? The more you argue the worse your consequences will be.’ It seems so obvious to you, but no one else notices.” His smile was knowing.

“It’s even affected you. You have a brilliant mind Rebecca, but your grades don’t match it. Why? Because it seems pointless and fruitless for you to try. You don’t know what direction you want to take in the future, even though it’s catching up with you so fast. So instead of studying for something you don’t know if you’ll even end up using, you do something that seems fun and more rewarding to you, like playing video games or chatting on the computer. Then when you return to school everyone underestimates you because you haven’t memorized useless facts the way they have, even though everything seems so much clearer and more obvious to you than it does to them. You get looked down on, even though you are so much better than them.”

Becka was staring at him with wide eyes, mouth parted. She was shocked when he said that there was a revolution going on, but before she had a chance to think about how she felt about it, he had started going on about her. The things he said were so true, too. It was like he was able to see every thought, every feeling she had ever had. She always yearned for something, though she didn’t know what it was, and most people disgusted her with their idiocy. Yet she was at the bottom of the social ladder, looked down on and ridiculed by people who thought they were better than her. “Even though,” her mind whispered, despite her trying to deny the thought as arrogant, “you are far better than them. Even though you are unique and they are just sheep who do what other people say. Even though they are manipulated by popular opinion and don’t see what is in front of their eyes.”

“The new society will be handled with a guiding hand that helps people through all aspects of their life. It will be broken up into six different levels that are color coded. The majority of people will be level blue- average people who won’t have many responsibilities and will get to live their life simply by just going to work, having fun, and being taken care of. Very early on in their life their future career will be decided and they will know what that career is immediately and study it in depth. They will have a strict curfew and won’t be allowed as many entitlements as the higher levels, but they will be safe and most importantly they won’t be able to harm themselves or others.”

Becka shifted a bit uncomfortably, thinking about the people in her class. This was wrong, right? Yet her mind went back to an incident like the one John had described before and she recalled the way her parents sometimes behaved. A wave of guilt crashed into her as she realized that a part of her that it would be better if they didn’t have the chance to make any decisions for themselves.

“The next level is level green. These will be the mangers, building monitors, and other people who will be able to make some minor decisions for the people of level Blue. They will have an hour more curfew, and a few more benefits, but for the most part they are the same as the people at level Blue.” He smiled deprecatingly.

“After that comes level purple. These are the soldiers. They have the ability to enforce decisions that people of higher levels dictate to them.
They will not be making decisions for the people of green and blue themselves, but rather they will make sure that the will of the higher levels is carried out. They are there for the higher levels to use. They will have a great many rewards, and much more freedom. Their rights will be protected, to keep them safe from people accusing them of abusing their power simply because those people aren’t happy with their lot in life. In exchange they will be tools for levels yellow and up.

Yellow is next. Level yellow will be markedly different from the other levels. They will have many benefits and no curfew. They will get spacious houses and be able to visit other districts. People in level yellow will have specialized tasks that require them to make decisions for people in the levels below them. They will be able to make choices for those people, and affect their daily life. They too will be trained for the task they are meant to take up, and no other tasks. Many of the jobs in this level are meant to make sure that the people in the lower levels are happy, healthy, and calm. They are meant to keep the peace and keep things running smoothly for the levels above them. We’ll get back to that later, though.

Above yellow is Grey and Red. Grey consists of people who are in charge of large groups, a district, or a portion of the army. They too make decisions for people and gather data. Above them is Red. Red is made up of the bureaucrats who will run the nation.”

Rebecca blinked at him, her thoughts whirling. When he paused she opened her mouth, sure she should say something but not knowing how to respond to all this information. “Why,” She cleared her throat when it came out dry and gravelly, licked her lips, and tried again: “Why are you telling me all this? Why did you pick me up and no one else from our building?”

“Because Rebecca. We want you for level yellow.”

Her brain stuttered to a halt, voicing a denial. No. Why? She knew on the surface there was nothing special about her.

“Why,” she said again, the only thing she could think to say.

John’s lips curled up in a satisfied smile. He pushed one of the papers spread out in front of him towards her. “Would you read this out loud please, and tell me if it sounds familiar?”

She picked it up and scanned it, feeling the blood drain out of her face, leaving her looking pale with her eyes huge behind her glasses.

“What I would do is tie him up,” she read, voice quivering, “using standard rope, so that after only a minute it begin to feel uncomfortable and chaff his skin. I wouldn’t want him to be in anyway comfortable, after all. If he zones out during his punishment, he won’t learn a thing. After that I’d leave him in the dark for a few hours and not tell him when or if I’m coming back. I’d act unaffected beforehand, so he realizes that this isn’t a big deal to me and that his punishment doesn’t affect me in any way. I’d do this every time he made a mistake, so in his mind he begins to associate being away from me as punishment. I’d never let him out of his punishment room after the same amount of time, as I don’t want him to be able to predict when I’m coming.

As for hurting him, I’d do this all the time; even for minor things, as my mood changes. This way he doesn’t think of it as a punishment, but as normal. Subconsciously, he’d realize that his body is my property, and I can do anything I want to it. Eventually he’d come to think that the worst thing he could ever do would be to displease me or be away from me. The normal thing would be doing what I want, and pleasing me.”
She stopped as she came to the end of the paper, her terror a thin layer of ice constricting her body.

“Do you recognize where that’s from, Rebecca.”

“I wrote it,” her voice was hoarse, eyes still huge and terrified. “I wrote it on a bdsm board.”

“One of the specialized jobs that some people in level yellow will have will be to act like a therapist. Instead of telling people that their unacceptable feelings and thoughts are okay, this “therapist” will train them to have only good thoughts and to be completely loyal. These people- Masters and Mistresses will use pain and pleasure to keep the peace. Some will do this to people who start showing ill content or disruptive behavior. Some will do it to train people for the breeding program, or to make former criminals fit to be integrated back into normal society. All of these jobs are very important. Of course, this is just one form of training that people in yellow have. Other yellow level people have very different jobs.”

“Breeding program?” her voice didn’t seem connected to her body.

“I am afraid that marriages will be arranged by the state now, and children only given to specific people. Also, those who are unable to be integrated into society for some reason but who have excellent genetics will be part of this program.”

“Isn’t that a bit excessive? Working so hard to change the mindset of an individual just for; what, three kids at most?” she asked, thinking that the person couldn’t donate too much sperm without inbreeding occurring.

“Each and every person is important to The Nation, Rebecca. We care about them all and wish to make life good for everyone. Of course, people who take on this responsibility will be able to choose a consort and house keeper of their choice, once they reach retirement age. As a thank-you for their years of service.”

“And you want me for this job?” she said, trying to get her thoughts in order so she could think clearly. Everything seemed so surreal. “How did you even know I wrote this?”

“We’ve been keeping tabs on everyone’s computer activities.
Yes, Rebecca, we want you for this job. Once you agree you will do one year of hard study, before becoming a Mistress or Master. You will then work with whatever people are deemed in most need of your expertise. You will be looked up to and treated with the respect you deserve. So what do you say Rebecca? We need people who are able to grasp the intricacies of the psyche like you are. Are you ready to accept and learn more? Or,” and here his voice turned wry, “do you want to go to the sorting areas, to become a blue like your parents are?”

Rebecca blinked. What was happening? This was all going too fast.

“I accept,” she heard her voice say.

[Obscene Cupcake]

Tell me what you think. Do you think I should add another chapter, or not work on this story at all? I've had it in mind for years.
The next chapter will (finally) have sex in it. a lot of sex, actually. But i'll only submit if you guys like it.

[Obscene Cupcake]

o.o;; you can tell that there aren't any real terrorists, right? that they were lying?

[Obscene Cupcake]

DX it's terrible, isn't it!

[Sydpart5]

It's not bad. I'm not into femdom personally but I read it because I was intrigued by your intro and wanted to see what was going on. I continued reading because of how well it's been written. Few grammar problems here and there but very well done overall. I'm interested to see if you do more with it.

[smcaaphd]

Nicely written, Pengwine

Story flows along really well - like Syd pointed out, there's a couple of grammar/spelling problems - but don't give up!! I'm actually interested in how you handle the sex scenes

[ahorsewithnoname]

I will continue reading if you continue writing. Fair enough?

[Twistedsister]

I didn't mind it at all.

But why I read it was, I had several stories a few years ago under a heading 'freewill' so I wanted to see what it was like, mine was a teenage street kid drawn into prostitution and was submissive. Totaly different angles

[Obscene Cupcake]

I started dancing when I read this positive criticism, I was so happy. For so long I've wanted to write one of the stories in my mind, but was always afraid of going through that awkward newbie phase, where your work isn't that good. My confidence is easily crushed.


keep in mind that this has dubcon (let's call a spade a spade and just say rape where the person enjoys it)

also, it has incest, which I find a lot more immoral (this kind of incest anyways. sibling incest or cousin incest doesn't bother me).

>.< the way the main characters ethics change throughout the story is important. so.... just a warning. the next chapter is gonna be sexy AND sickening >_<;; in my opinion, that is the funnest kinda sex story to read. as long as it has a happy ending.

but it's gonna be very sexy if you are into bdsm! >.<

[ELaken-Palmer]

Very good and very interesting story here. Your details are very good. I feel as if I were watching a movie on SyFy Channel and it is holding my interest.

_________

[deepdiver24]

You are an excellent writer, Your story was easy to read, and captivating. I enjoy stories with a plot, and this one certainly has that. Also, I liked how well you developed the main character. Character development is key in good writing, and you have done this well. Looking forward to the next chapter! It also helps that femdom is a big turn on for me, and I am looking forward to what dirty things might be lurking in your mind!

[Obscene Cupcake]

Chapter 2.



author's notes: I don't really like this chapter.



"He's my client," hands crashed down upon the mahogany desk, hard enough to cause the decorative knick knacks that littered it to jump up and settled down again a few centimeters farther left. John just looked calmly at her, grey eyes impassive, hands folded together.

This infuriated the girl who was talking to him even more. Her temper seemed incongruous with her outfit. Hair back into a tightly controlled braid, white doctor's robe over grey slacks and a blue silk blouse, tasteful blue glasses sitting upon her nose; their rectangular frames emphasizing the fragile femininity of her face; they clashed horribly with the clenched fist, pink lips drawn back into a sneer, static posture, and spearing blue eyes. She clashed even more with the room around her. The over opulence of the red and gold plush couches, and dark red Victorian style wallpaper gave off the cluttered feeling of someone happy with their life who wanted to share some comfort and pleasing aesthetics with others. In these bright and bold colors, across from a man who gave off an air that matched the room, she stood out like a dash of blood on white linen.

"Yes, but whatever you are doing with him is not working. This says nothing about your work. The Nation already relies on you more than we usually would for someone your age. You are doing sessions for a Red, aren't you? And you get to see a parent. That's not something the other Yellows get to do."

"I don't get to see my mom," she mumbled in a low voice, falling backwards to sprawl in the chair. The immaturity of the movement lent her a younger, vulnerable look, making it easy to see how this could be the modern Rebecca Robins, despite the lack of bangs and the way her features had filled out and frozen into the delicate lines of the woman across from John.

"Do you really want to," John asked delicately, eyes trained on her face.

She shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, but her face turned bright red and she didn't remove her gaze from the floor.

After a few moments of silence, Becka couldn't take it anymore and moved her eyes up to John's throat, speaking there, rather than directly to him. "The only reason they gave me that Red, was because none of the other mistresses were working for him. Or masters."

"Don’t you see? That just proves that you have skills that the others don't. Everyone loses clients occasionally. This one asked for a Therapy Session of his own free will. You've never dealt with that before. It was an experiment and we didn't know for sure that it would work. Your skills lie with the-in some ways much harder to deal with- people who resist.

Becka gave him a tentative smile, her anger draining away with the returning of her confidence.

"Thanks for talking to me today," she put her hand behind her ear, as if tucking invisible hair away, a habit she had yet to break.

"It was no problem at all. That's what I'm here for. To help the people chosen for the Therapy Sessions with everything they need- even if it’s just lending an ear. You are far from the first person to come to my office to vent." He started clearing up his papers, flipping through them. "You better go soon. You have another client in seven minutes. A David Jameson, I believe. Oh, it says here that you used to live by him?"

She froze for a second; all her usual energy compacted into her body, before saying a short, "Yes."

"Good luck then. Those should make for some interesting sessions."


____________________


The second Rebecca's left foot was out the door and into the hallway a transformation took place. Her shoulders relaxed, her lids lowered over her eyes and took on a stern look, and her lips smoothed out from their tight, pursed position into a slight pout. She would not have been out of place in a with a surgeon’s badge attached to her white robes, with the confidence that her steps took as she strode down the hallway at a fast pace. Her chest was lifted and shoulders back, silk shirt molded over her small, tight 32B breasts. Any passer biers would think that she was a woman who knew what she was doing and knew where she was going. Then they would think about her long, supermodel tall legs and elegant neck; since her braid lifted her hair away from it, displaying the milky pale length. With her glasses perched on her nose, and determined stance, she was the personification of a sexy female dominant.

She stopped once along the way, to talk to a guard and make sure that her surprise was set up, as well as to go over the information for her next client one more time. Once satisfied that everything was going the way it was supposed to and that she had everything on her that she needed, she began making her way to the pens.

The pens were an interesting feature of the compound. They consisted of a hallway with doors every few feet, all locked, perfectly blank and anonymous. Each one held a different room, with features that varied depending on who was supposed to go within it.

Despite the anonymity of the doors Rebecca seemed to know where she was going, and stopped before the thirteenth door down. A small smirk was on her face, which transformed into a small smile as she slid the key into the lock.

By the time the door opened to the prisoner within, her expression was once again one of haughty indifference.

The room inside the door could only be described as dismal. Pale yellow lighting fell down from the built-into-ceiling light, highlighting the grey stones that built it. The room smelled of mildew and other unmentionable things, and in the center of the room was a hole in the floor, from which a steady "drip, drip, drip" could be heard.

Aside from a small wooden chair for her to sit on, the only other adornment in the room was a man who kept against the opposite wall by the chains attached to the bindings on his wrists, and the other bindings which were around each ankle, keeping him on his knees with his legs spread wide.

The man was completely naked. Gloriously naked. The muted lighting accentuated the contours of his muscular arms and bronzed skin. While by no means a body builder or overloaded with muscle, the man was obviously fit, having what could be described as a surfers body. Though he was on his knees Rebecca could tell that he was taller than her, which startled her since at twenty she was the tallest girl at the therapy compound. His dark brown hair lay spiked with sweat against his head, the rooms being uncomfortably hot during the summer time. A droplet of water trickled down his nose; the most feminine feature on him, clinging there for a second before it fell to the floor. He had, Rebecca noticed absently, rather ugly feet. The toes were spread out and blunt, and though she couldn't tell in this lighting she rather though that his nails were yellow tinted. He wasn't any harrier than any other man, except for under his armpits. Since his arms were forced backwards by the bindings, she could see a sliver of the area under his arms, where a forest of brown hair spiked out. She knew that if he lifted his head, she would see yellow-hazel eyes looking at her from a youthful face. His back was bowed and his head hung limply forward, a forced position made possible by the thick collar around his neck, with a line of chains connecting it to the ceiling. Since he was resting in it limply, likely trying to sleep despite the discomfort, the skin under his jaw and behind his cranium was a bright, irritated red color

All that mattered very little to her though, compared to what her eyes immediately zoomed in on: His cock. For someone who wasn't prepared for the sight, it would probably look very strange. The thick piece, three inches long when soft, rested heavily against his balls, which seemed to be abnormally full and round. Covering the whole of his penis was an extremely tight, pale sheath, which she knew would draw back over his penis when he was aroused, and hook behind the most startling abnormality of all- his knott. The delicious ball at the base of his penis was currently small enough that she could likely encircle it in her hands. The closer he got to orgasm the bigger the knott would swell. It was The Nations latest effort in helping the rehabilitation and the breeding programs. Her mouth filled with saliva at the sight.

She imagined how furious he would be that she was there. She imagined the confusion and the fear he would be repressing. She imagined him looking up at her from her feet, eyes bright with moisture, confusion swimming in them because of the pleasure and pain running through his body after a session with her.

She felt the flesh between her legs spark with anticipation, and closed the door behind her.

________________________________________________________

"You?! What do you want?" David felt disgust rise up in him at the site of the woman he used to live next to. He glared at her, head lifted and back still bowed. After so many hours in this position there was an unending current of pain running through his shoulders and down his spin, so he used that pain as fuel for his anger at the traitor in front of him.

She smiled slowly, lips closed over her teeth, and walked closer till she was standing in directly front of him. "I take it the other members of your anti-peace group told you about me?"

"The other members of our RESISTANCE group passed pictures around of undesirables each week. You got put on the list after you brain washed James!" The anger was too much for him to control, and he jerked his head as he spat on her; or tried to, anyways. His cheeks heated up as only a few specks of moisture actually managed to land on her, his mouth being too dry to do much damage. She didn't even flinch, just continued to stare directly into his eyes, an amused look on her face, as if she was watching a child throw a temper tantrum and it wasn't even worth it to indulge him by getting upset.

Her non-reaction was so unexpected that he paused for a second, and the first trickle of apprehension crawled down his spine, following the path his sweat took.

"James is a sweetie. He is so happy, now that he no longer has to hide in the woods or in abandoned apartments in the city, and instead has a stable living environment. He's thrilled that soon he's going to be marrying another Blue; an overworked woman who always tries her best to help The Nation. It was decided they would be good for each other. He's been lonely lately without my pussy. He only got to touch me skin to skin once, but that memory stuck with him,” as she spoke, the traitor moved her robes- something he had noticed and wondered about- to the side, revealing a pair of latex gloves like you'd find in a doctor's office. She put them on and continued to taunt him in that low, clinical tone, "We aren't here to talk about James though. We are here to talk about you. To help you adjust to your new role in life." She put her hand gently on his cheek and pulled his head upwards lightly, till his neck was straining against the collar.

He reacted without thought. Turning his head quickly he snapped his teeth together where her wrist was a second before. His teeth clacked together as they closed on air, her fingers hovering just far enough away that the collar wouldn't let him get to them.

"Artus," her feminine voice caressed the syllables. David had one second to wonder why she said that strange word, before the world turned into pain.

His body jerked and flailed, mouth open in a scream that strained his vocal cords. His mind shouted that he was burning, breaking, shattering. His fingernails seemed to be trying to tear themselves off of his hands, and his skin turned to glass; stabbing his inner organs.

With one part of his mind, he registered a low murmuring coming from the Traitor, and then the pain stopped. His body went limp, feeling wrung out and shocked, fingers and eyebrows still twitching in remembrance.

He vomitted.

"I'm sorry I had to use that David," his chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his mind too shocked by what had just happened to make much sense of her words, the soft sound a contrast to the sharp reality he just suffered. "That's the ultimate punishment of The Nation. It makes sure that I can take you off the chains, and let you run around, without you trying to do something regrettable. The mechanism that causes that response is in your body, and I only have to speak the words to activate it. You'll be very sensitive afterwards," her hand went back to his cheek, and he flinched away in expectation of more pain, but the cool touch latex soothed his skin, adding uncomfortable pinpricks of pleasure to the feeling.

Trying to draw his mind away from the sensation, he spoke, resolute to ignore the soft pleasure that was evoked as his mouth moving made her hand rub against his cheek lightly.

"What did you guys do to... me," he said, referring to his penis, something he had been wondering about for a while now.

Rebecca new what he was asking about immediately.

"Isn't it wonderful? It's a present from The Nation. They gave you a few of the characteristics and instincts of dogs. Including this wonderful knott here," she lifted her foot, nudging along his sack with one black heel before tapping the knott twice. "You'll find that when it comes to sex it's harder to hold onto your cognitive ability, and your instincts will be that much harder to fight. I'm sure you will fight," the fingers on his cheek clenched, and even though she was wearing latex, he swore he could feel her nails digging straight into his skin. "Most of the time I won't let you cum till you ask me though, so The Nation really did you a favor by changing you this way."

Eyes round in horror, David stared at the woman he had grown up with. "What happened to you, how did you become this way?"

Rebecca tilted her head thoughtfully and began to stroke his cheek, which was still sensitive from his punishment.

As the soft fingers caressed his flesh he felt his cock twitch against his thigh, and nausea engulfed him. He started noticing things about The Traitor. How her chest had filled out more since the last time he had seen her, and that her skin was startlingly white against her blouse. Right now her nipples were hard; clearly visible through the shirt. As he stared at the silk covered tips, he started to notice a scent coming from her; a heady feminine perfume, which easily overshadowed the stench that usually permeated the small room. A quick glance down had him swallowing in despair. The tight skin around his member was drawing back, revealing his bright red penis tip, which was getting larger and redder as he watched. He could literally see the sheath drawing back in a slow, continuous movement.

"I've always been this way. I can't describe how exciting it is to break down a man and watch as he comes to love you for it.” She moved closer and another wave of her scent washed over him. His nostrils flared and his cock became fully engorged, standing straight up towards her in an eager salute.

"I'm helping people by doing this, too. Some people really can't handle the decisions needed for them to have a good, happy life. Since The Nation took over, crime rates have dropped and employment has gone up. People are happy, healthy, and taken care of."

"Maybe crime rates are recorded less, but they still happen. Just because some people call themselves a government, doesn't mean that their crimes are excusable," David said through gritted teeth.

Becka just smirked. Reaching into her robe pocket she took out a small cylindrical device, with rubber on one end and metal on the other.

She pressed a red button that he hadn't seen which was on the side of the advice, and brought the metal part down against his rib cage.

A shot of burning electricity crackled where she held it, and he jerked with a cry, whole body flinching in surprise. His cock remained as hard as before.

"That's one of the things we will have to train you out of. The Nation cares for you David, I care for you. We just want to see you happy," She leaned closer, and the scent of her was all around him, filling his mind, caressing his body. His pupils contracted and then grew huge. Fuck, he was so horny! "We want you... to be part of us, to rejoin society. To rejoin me. It would make me very happy."

She leaned back and sat in the chair, one leg in front of the other, hands resting on top of them, just looking at him. His eyes trailed the length of her legs.

"Do you like this scent? It's a special perfume I made just for you. Apparently when a female dog is in heat, she gives off a certain scent that attracts the male dog. It's invisible to humans, but when I requested it, the people in the lab were able to capture that scent and mix it in with my favorite perfume. After all, I am a bitch, so it’s only fitting that I should smell like one."

David swallowed. He fucking hated her. She was the traitor. He shouldn't be thinking of her like this, shouldn't give her the satisfaction. Their manipulations wouldn't work on him. He shouldn't be thinking about bending her over a table and shoving his dick in her pussy dry, of fucking her till she bled, and wrapping his arms around that traitor’s neck. The only thing he should want to do should be the last part- put his fingers around her neck and tighten them until the Traitor stopped breathing.

She stood up suddenly, and started unbuttoning her pants. She shimmied them down her legs and he stared at the pink cotton underwear that was revealed. Some part of him was taken aback at how normal the underwear was, but the rest of him was cursing that it had been two weeks since he last masturbated- the perils of helping a revolution keeping him occupied at night.

"I want to show you what you do to me David. I want to show you your reward for getting caught and taken away from that resistance group,” she sat down again and spread her legs. In the center of the panties was a wet spot, clearly showing that she was indeed enjoying this, despite torturing him to the point that he threw up. His hips snapped up and he breathed out harshly, eyes trained on the wet spot staining her panties. Jesus Fucking Christ he wanted some friction! Who knew that the dork with the glasses and the cute ass that he used to play with was such a perverted monster?

"Why are you doing this, TRAITOR? Why are you keeping me here?"

"Because I want to. I'm having fun. Don't you want to have fun David? The Nation brought me here just for you. They knew what you wanted and got it for you. Don't you want," her hips started moving in slow circles in the chair, "to make me happy?"

'Oh god," unable to take it anymore, David's hips started thrusting back and forth, in an animalistic display of arousal. A little bit of cream leaked from the tip of his cock.

Becka laughed, and brought one hand down teasingly, her fingers scooching under the pantie's crotch, starting to move the thin piece of crotch to the side. She moved it enough that he saw a bit of one lip, which was wet and shiny. Then she took her fingers out, the cloth once again covering the whole of her lady bits.

David choked and made a whining sound of desperation, straining against the chains holding him.

"Fuck, what... Rebecca, please! I need- I need. aaaaggghhh" his hips snapped up some more, ignoring him, she stood up and proceeded to pull her pants back on, further hiding the flesh he wanted to see.

"I will give you some friction, if you say just one thing. Say 'please let this bug use your glorious hand, mistress, even though I don't deserve it.'"

His cock pulsed with need and he found himself getting more aroused at the dirty and fucked up words coming out of those innocent looking lips.

"Fuck you!" he spat, though the words came out breathy and yearning, instead of with the disgust he wanted to project.

The cylinder was in her hand again, this time at his nipple. "Aarrgh!" with his skin so sensitive from her last use of Artus, the incredible pain caused by the cylinder felt almost pleasurable, despite still smarting like a bitch.

"Oh," Becka giggled, and he looked up to notice that her eyes looked very strange, lips fixed in that same half smile. Her pupils were huge and quick breaths panted out from her demented smile. She looked like she was high. "You liked that, didn't you?"

"N-no!" David didn't even have time to think about how immature that response was before he felt the cylinder press against his ass. He screamed, hips straining up and holding that position, as much as he could with the chains binding him.

"arghaaaahhahhah" his scream was a mixture of pain and pleasure, and he felt his balls draw up. Oh god yes, one more second, oh fuck it hurts, move my butt to try and get away, but fuck no I don't want this feeling to stop. oh christ press it harder. Oh. oh! argh! I'm going to-.
She took the cylinder away from his ass again, and licked her lips. Her voice was breathy when she spoke. "You aren't supposed to lie to me, David."

David felt like crying. He was so desperate. He couldn't think, all of his attention was on his cock, and he couldn't spare even one thought to anything else. His hips desperately humped the air, and he pretended there was a girl there, with a round, beautiful ass; which he was humping. The image wavered and turned into Rebecca, but he ignored that, closing his eyes and parting his mouth, humping his hips into the imaginary girl. He didn't notice when he started speaking,"

"Oh yes. So good. mmmn fuck. You always had a sweet ass, and I always used to want to fuck it when you wore those jeans you little teaze. Little whore, cunt, traitor, ass. Oooaaghh," he felt tears fill his eyes and nearly overflow. "It's not enough. Oh fuck please, please, [i]please[i]."

"If you want me to give you some friction, all you have to do is say 'Mistress, please lend me your glorious hand, even though I'm worth less than a worm and don't deserve it. Only you can help me Mistress'."

"M-Mistress, please lend me your h-hand. Even though- uh..." "Even though you are worth less than a worm." "Even though I'm worth less than a worm and don't Deserve it. Only you can help me Rebe- Mistress.

Oh please mistress please. I-," tears started to run down his face, which was red with exertion, "please I need you. Only you. Please. I'm worthless, whatever. Just fuck me pleasepleaseplease. I need you!"

"Good boy," her hand was in his hair, petting him, like he was a dog. Though he felt a spurt of anger at that, he seemed unable to control his actions and leaned into it with a blissful expression, wanting it on another part of his body.

It took a good forty seconds, but the chains eventually got unlocked and off his body. When he took a step towards her, not sure if he intended to fuck her or kill her and run away, she opened her mouth and he immediately stopped, remembering the pain of Artus. The memory of that pain helped cool his libido enough that he was able to stand there and wait, without jumping her.

"You are less than a worm, like you admitted. So I don't think you deserve a hand," his heart clenched and his breath left his body in shocked horror, "but I will let you hump my leg like the dog you are. Crawl towards me and get your reward. No using your hands."

"Wha- fuh- it-," even as he was trying to voice a denial he felt himself getting on his knees and shuffling forward, putting his hands behind his back even though the his arm muscles strained at being put back in such a position. He lined up his body with hers and started humping, knott trapped against his abdomen, underside of his dick running along her grey slacks.

Rebecca stared down at him with blown eyes and smirking mouth. She wanted to move her hips, stab her fingers into her soaked pussy and fuck herself till she came. Her breasts ached to be held, feeling heavy and swollen. She wouldn't move though. More than she wanted to orgasm she wanted this; to humiliate and train her doggy. Her dog David, the boy she had looked at with yearning and a desperate need for approval from in her youth. The boy who had ignored her and forgotten her and lived his perfect life with his perfect friends. Now admitting he was trash, and needing her so much that he debased himself to this level.

The feel of his rigid length against her thigh was hot, and she wondered idly if the rough material was hurting him. It wouldn't matter if it was- it would only help with her goal to make him crave pain, after all.

His hips pistoned against her leg, and his arms came around to wrap around her thigh, keeping it steady. Without consciously planning on doing it, he found himself with his mouth open, tonguing her blouse and laying kisses on it intermittently.

She smacked his face, hard. "No hands!" he growled and felt his knott swell painfully, his balls draw up, and then he was cumming, eyes glazed over and hips still slapping his balls against her leg.

The thick spurts hit her slacks and started to slide down them, a messy white design against the grey uniformity.

He finally stopped and panted as his cock started to deflate and his
sheath began a slow climb over the shrinking knott.

His mind was full of a blank buzz; an euphoric haze. Everything seemed to have a tinted glow, and his body felt wonderful- even the pain from his former bondage seemed to be a kind of comfort.

"You made your Mistress’s pants messy. Lick them up, Doggy," he heard. He didn't even turn his head towards the sound.

Hands came up to cradle his face, and gently pulled his head down. These feel nice he idly thought. Then he was staring at his spunk, clinging to the leg he had just masturbated against.

"Clean me up," he heard again. For some reason he understood what that meant, and obediently opened up his mouth to lick up his mess. This tastes disgusting he happily murmured in his mind, and a dreamy smile crossed his face as he ate the rest with more enthusiasm.

He sat in his haze for a while longer, seeming to flat around, ignoring the pain in his knees and occasionally swallowing when spit in his mouth seemed to accumulate.

"Well that went well," the calm voice of The Traitor said, and he abruptly realized where he was and what he just did.

The hate in him swelled, and he lifted his hand and wiped his mouth. Jesus Christ this woman is evil!, his eyes closed in a glare again, demeanor once more shifting to that of loathing.

"Don't worry, that’s a pretty normal reaction," her smile had satisfaction in it, even though he didn't think she had cum herself.

"Fuck you bitch!" One of her hands reached out and casually grabbed his balls, squeezing. David froze. "I may be a bitch, but the title you will refer to me as is, Mistress. I won't tolerate you forgetting it again. Also, it will be a long time, if ever, that you will please me enough to get the reward where you “fuck” me."

She smiled, "now come on. It's time I showed you your surprise." She walked around him, opening the door. David wondered if he could attack her from behind before she managed to use Artus. But no- if he did that, they'd call the guards, and they likely knew about Artus too.

"I don't have any clothes," he said in a "you are an idiot" voice, but managing to make it just emotionless enough that she wouldn't punish him.

“Dogs don't get clothes. Everyone needs to see what a dog you are, and that you belong to me, so that they know you aren’t a stray." The door opened and his vision turned black for a second, as he had become used to the low lighting of his prison room, and wasn't prepared for the change. He shook his head, trying to dispel the disorienting feeling that accompanied his temporary blindness.

“They'll already know from the spots you left on my pants just what a good doggy you are, after all.”

Even though he couldn't see her face with her back turned to him, he could feel the smirk in her tone. David finally understood just what turned James; a great member of the resistance, into the spineless coward their spies had spotted. He felt terror begin to nip at the edges of his mind, but resolutely pushed it aside, wrapping his anger, hate, and determination around him.

He would get out of here. He would not let "The Nation" defeat him, and when he left he would leave The Traitor’s lifeless body behind.

Mouth lifting into a sneer, he swore this to himself.

[Obscene Cupcake]

bump. reviews wanted!

[ELaken-Palmer]

Very well written but a different Bekka than we read about in chapter one. As much as we liked her, we are now forced to dislike her and to root against her. We did not see her transformation so all of this is a surprise to us.

_________

[Obscene Cupcake]

Originally Posted by ELaken-Palmer

Very well written but a different Bekka than we read about in chapter one. As much as we liked her, we are now forced to dislike her and to root against her. We did not see her transformation so all of this is a surprise to us.

_________

I plan to go more in depth with her in either the next one or the one after that, showing the her inner battle, so to speak, which she refuses to acknowledge.

Was it too sudden, you think? the change? >_<

[ELaken-Palmer]

Originally Posted by Obscene Cupcake

I plan to go more in depth with her in either the next one or the one after that, showing the her inner battle, so to speak, which she refuses to acknowledge.

Was it too sudden, you think? the change? >_<

No. I think that there was some time, between chapters, that we are unaware of what happened with her. Write it your way.

_________

[Obscene Cupcake]

@w@ art for my story

[Obscene Cupcake]

work dangit

[Obscene Cupcake]

DANGiT! forgot her glasses ;-;

[Sydpart5]

so no chapter 3?