Freewill Ch. 2 (femdom)

"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 "[i]drip, drip, drip[/i]" 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. [i]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-[/i]. 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 [i]teaze[/i]. 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. [i]Only you can help me Rebe- Mistress.[/i]                 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. [i]These feel nice[/i] 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. [i] This tastes disgusting [/i] 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. [i]Jesus Christ this woman is evil![/i], 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. 
Source: Femdom Stories

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