5 comments/ 37170 views/ 7 favorites Med School Acceptance Ch. 01 By: A_Vronsky This is the only installment of this story so far, but I expect to write more when time allows. It is a fantasy involving sex trafficking. If such things bother you, skip it. It goes without saying that actual sex trafficking is a horrible crime. She ran into her bedroom with shrieks of joy and collapsed back onto her mattress with the folded sheet of paper in her hand. She could barely restrain her smile as she held it up before her eyes and read the letter one more time: Dear Miss: On behalf of the admissions committee at the London School of Medicine, I am very pleased to accept you into our accelerated professional training program. As you are no doubt aware, competition for positions in the APTP is extremely stiff; you are joining a very select and exclusive group of promising young people from around the world. Let me be the first to congratulate you on this fine achievement! Your training will begin on 1 September. Please complete the enclosed forms and return them as soon as possible so that we can prepare for your arrival appropriately. We look forward to meeting you in the flesh before long. Sincerely, Alistair Forsythe Director of Recruitment and Admissions She could hardly believe it. She had only learned of the program a few months before, when one of the instructors at her current university had approached her and suggested that she consider applying. He had explained that the APTP kept a low profile and preferred to do much of its recruitment face-to-face. He himself had been through the program, and he said it had changed his life. There was a curious twinkle in his eye when he said it, but she didn't think to question him. He went on to explain that only students with the greatest potential were even asked to submit applications. She felt a thrill deep in her heart. This was finally her chance! In just a few weeks, she would be able to put her sleepy central European hometown behind her and move out into the great big world, and she'd be doing it as a student in one of the most exclusive medical training programs in existence. She let out a deep, satisfied sigh as she relaxed into her bed and dropped the letter to her side. She stared up into the ceiling and tears of joy clouded her vision. ----- The next month flew by in a blur. There was so much to be done -- making her travel arrangements, purchasing a more professional wardrobe, bidding farewell to all of her friends. The last had taken up most of her time. Not that she minded, of course. All of the excitement, all of the goodbyes: they meant she would soon be on her way. She stood in her bedroom on the night before her flight, packing the few belongings she was taking with her. The APTP hadn't required much in terms of supplies and equipment; they had assured her that everything she needed would be provided to her, free of charge. She had already decided that she wouldn't sleep tonight; her heart was pounding excitedly and she would never be able to relax enough to doze off. She folded her newly-purchased clothes carefully. She had done this on her own initiative; the letter hadn't mentioned anything about appropriate dress, but she wanted to have a fresh start in every way. She had bought enough to make up four or five outfits that perfectly straddled the line of professional and sexy. After all, a doctor doesn't have to be frumpy, she told herself with a smile. The bag she packed her things into was new, too: one of those black, rolling numbers that everyone seems to use these days. Hers was bought at a high-end shop in her hometown; she was determined that she wasn't going to be sneered at by anyone as she traveled. She smiled at the neatness and tidiness of the bag as she closed it and zipped it up. As an afterthought, she reached beneath her pillow and pulled out her vibrator. She slid it into one of the bag's side pockets. She hadn't had much time for the real thing lately, especially with all the preparations for her move, and she didn't know if that would change in London. In those situations, a vibrator is a woman's best friend. Everything was ready. She looked at her watch and realized that her ride to the airport wouldn't arrive for several hours yet. She let out an exasperated breath, full of nervous excitement. Hmmm, she thought playfully, maybe one more time to say goodbye to the room that had given her so many memories. She lay back on her bed and reached back to the side pocket she had just closed, pulling the large purple cock out again. Her hands moved slowly over her body, the rumble of her vibe met her most sensitive bits of flesh, and she lost herself in the moment until she was crying out her orgasm, releasing the tension that had been building up for weeks. She closed her eyes as the warmth spread to her fingers and toes. The next thing she knew there was a knock on the door, her father reminding her that the car would be there in 15 minutes. She yelled back an acknowledgment and sat upright with a start. She quickly dressed in the outfit she had laid out the night before -- a red v-neck cashmere sweater that she had bought because she thought it would offer tantalizing glimpses of her cleavage even under her white coat, a fitted black skirt that fell just above her knee, and a pair of sensible black shoes. It struck a good balance of comfort and style; perfect for the flight. By the time she was ready, she could hear the car horn on the street, and she grabbed her suitcase and dashed down the stairs to the front door. Her parents stood at the door looking on nervously, and she gave them each a quick kiss, perhaps a little too eager to get going. She walked out the door and handed her bag to the cab driver, who threw it into the trunk of the car. She turned back toward her parents and gave them a wave, yelling goodbye. They stood on the doorstep, filled with happiness and anxiety for her, and they yelled back their love. She sat in the backseat and the car peeled out, her little street fading in the rear view mirror as she took her first steps out into her own world. She looked out the window and saw the familiar sights zipping by, drawing her closer to her future. She said nothing for the 45 minutes it took to get to the airport, but she could hardly sit still. She kept shifting against the smooth faux leather of the seat, vainly trying to find a position that would soothe her nerves. When they arrived at the airport, she took her bag from the cab driver and handed him a bill to cover the fare and his tip. She stood on the curb for a moment and looked up at the façade of the airport. She took a deep breath and walked in through the glass doors, finding the counter for her airline and checking her bag. She watched the piece of luggage being carried down the conveyor belt and into the heart of the airport. She didn't know it would be the last time she saw it. ----- The flight went by more quickly than she had expected, and since she had checked her bag and only carried a handbag with her, she was able to disembark quickly. She walked through Heathrow, blending into the crowd of tourists and businesspeople and students. She felt right. This was the world she belonged to. She was going to make a name for herself. She passed through immigration and customs without trouble. Anytime she was questioned in any way, she simply pulled her letter of admission from APTP out of her handbag and that seemed to answer any concerns the officers had. As she stepped out into the arrivals area, she immediately saw a tall, handsome young man wearing a plain black suit and a chauffeur's cap and holding a sign bearing her name. She stepped up to him with a smile. He was positively dreamy, though she had always preferred her men somewhat older. She followed him as he guided her immediately to a luxurious black sedan parked out front in a zone clearly marked "NO PARKING." When she protested that she hadn't fetched her bag from baggage claim, he answered that it had been sent ahead already and that she was expected at an orientation program within the hour. She accepted the answer with another smile. There was something truly exciting about belonging to a program that could take care of everything so easily. She looked out the window once more, this time acclimating herself to all the new sights and sounds, contrasting them in her mind with the familiar countryside of her childhood. At every turn, there was some new sight to thrill her. Her full breasts rose and fell beneath her sweater as her breathing quickened. This was going to be home, she thought to herself. This was where she would be living and learning and exploring. She couldn't imagine anything better. When the car finally drew to a stop, it was at the front of a fine hotel in the West End. The chauffeur came around and opened the door for her, and she stepped out onto the curb, looking around with wide eyes. She turned and offered the chauffeur a tip, but he waved her off and simply told her that the reception was being held in the Queen Anne Room on the first floor. She nodded and stepped to the front door. A doorman yanked it open for her with a flourish, and his eyes looked her up and down subtly as she stepped through. She was used to this kind of attention, but she was reassured to find that she could command it even in this new and glamorous setting. She stood immobile in the lobby for a moment, overwhelmed by the crystal, the veined marble, the gold leaf. She noticed after a few seconds that she hadn't breathed, and she inhaled an excited breath. She couldn't hold back an ecstatic smile as she approached one of the attendants and asked for the room. She caught enough of the response through her excitement that she was able to find her way to the room. She walked past the placard reading QUEEN ANNE'S ROOM and through the double doors to find a reception room that was more intimate than grand, decorated in soft, plush textures and deep, sensuous colors. She surveyed the room quickly and discovered perhaps a dozen people around her age, of whom only 3 were young men. They were dressed in a wide range of styles, some betraying their different national origins, but most simply testifying to the fact that they had come directly from the airport as she had. Alongside the young people, scattered throughout the room, were five or six people who were clearly older, ranging in age from their thirties to their fifties. They mingled with the young people and engaged them in conversation, discovering more about their origins and plans. A few servants in tuxedos also wandered the room offering beverages to the guests. After a moment of hesitation, she stepped into the room and joined a pair of students who were talking to a handsome middle-aged man with flecks of gray in his perfectly coiffed head of black hair. She listened attentively, smiling where appropriate, and she learned enough from the conversation to know the two other students' names. The young man standing opposite her was Seung Wook. He had beautifully soft East Asian features and particularly striking eyes. The young woman closest to her was Anya, a tall Russian blonde who seemed almost to have been selected as a physical contrast to her. Anya was long and lean, whereas she was full and womanly. Anya had the sharp, angular features of a model, whereas she had the warm, soft features of home. Anya's skin was fair and light, whereas hers was golden and dusky. They each had a different kind of beauty, and they recognized it in one another. Both of the young people spoke in virtually perfect, unaccented English, and she felt a little self-conscious, constantly worried that she would make an embarrassing mistake. The older man set her at ease, however. He introduced himself as Alistair Forsythe and asked her to call him Ali. There was something welcoming about him, something that reassured her and told her that she belonged among this group of accomplished young people. The volume in the room picked up as groups engaged in more animated discussion, until the attendants circled the room offering flutes of champagne. Ali excused himself from the three students and stood at the front of the room, tinking his glass for attention. All eyes turned to him as he spoke a few words of greeting. She took the opportunity to look over the other gathered students. They were all strikingly different from one another, but she couldn't help noticing that they were all beautiful in their own way and that they seemed almost to glow with excitement. She turned her attention back to Ali as he spoke and she caught the last words of the toast he was offering. She mimicked him and lifted the glass of champagne that had found its way into her hand almost without her noticing; she hardly knew where it had come from. When Ali finished his toast, she lifted the rim of the glass to her lips and drank deeply from it. The warmth of the alcohol heated her throat and brought a flush to her cheeks, and she joined another group as everyone fell back into conversation. She didn't notice the pattern until the third student excused herself to have a seat. The young people seemed to be falling away to the sides of the rooms, where they reclined on couches and closed their eyes, sometimes with the aid of one of the adults. She herself began to feel lightheaded and she wondered whether the alcohol had combined with the fatigue of the flight to overwhelm her. As the dizziness grew in her head, she turned to lean on the closest arm, Ali's. He helped her to one of the couches and sat her down, and her look up into his eyes confirmed that her lightheadedness was no surprise to him. He looked different than he had before. He still had a welcoming face, but his eyes revealed something else -- a power over her and a hunger. She knew in that moment that she was the feast. He whispered to her, "Quiet now, sleep," and she slipped into unconsciousness without knowing what had happened to the other students. ----- She woke in the dark. Her head ached in that dull way, not enough to be painful but enough to confuse her thoughts. She tried to look around, but the darkness was total. She couldn't even tell how big a room she was in. There were no windows, and the walls seemed an infinity away. She knew that she was laying down on a firm mattress. She could feel restraints on her wrists and ankles and the cold air on her body confirmed that she was nude. She let out a low moan of despair. She didn't remember anything of the last day at first. She only knew that she was scared and alone. Slowly, the details began to reemerge from her consciousness -- the letter, the preparations, the flight, the chauffeur, the reception. She must have been drugged, she realized. And based on what she had seen before fading into unconsciousness, so had the other students. She was in a strange country, imprisoned in a location she did not know, betrayed for a reason she couldn't quite understand. She began to panic in her restraints, pulling on them to see if she could find any give. It didn't take her long to realize that was hopeless. She let out a defeated whimper and sunk back into the mattress. Suddenly a voice came out of the darkness. She couldn't tell if the man was in the room or speaking over some kind of intercom, but she recognized who it was. It was Ali, though his voice had a cold, hard edge now that it didn't have at the reception. "Relax. You belong to us now. There is nowhere for you to go, and nowhere for you to hide." She wanted to scream back in anger, but something held her back. A sense of total abandonment and despair washed over her, and she lay her head back on the pillow. She didn't know how long it took, but she eventually faded back into sleep. ----- It seemed like she had hardly slept at all when she woke up in a blaze of light. She could see the room now. It was completely bare and the walls were plain and white all around. The only features in the room were the metal bed to which she was shackled and the large mirror that took up almost the entire wall opposite her. She could see her reflection and she knew intuitively that someone behind that mirror was watching her. There were four speakers set in the corners of the room, built flush with the wall. She felt tired and confused, and she wasn't quite sure how many times she had woken up in this room feeling like this. Every time she tried to recall how she had come here or how long she'd been here, it required a slightly greater effort. She tried to close her eyes and to invite sleep to come over her, but there was no chance of that with the blinding lights shining down on her from the ceiling. Suddenly, that voice (whose was it again?) spoke into the air above her: "You're a possession, a slave, a fucktoy." It stopped speaking, and she didn't know whether she wanted it to be silent or to go on. She struggled somewhat against her restraints but gave up as she felt once more how snug they were. She closed her eyes, but every time she felt sleep drawing close, just out of reach, a blast of loud music would fill the room, forcing her eyes open again. There was no way for her to block the sound, and she could feel herself growing more and more desperate. At regular intervals, that voice would come back into the room and repeat its one line. She didn't even know where it was coming from anymore. She just needed sleep. She needed to be allowed to sleep. The voice was the only predictable thing left to her. There was no other stimulation or interaction of any kind, apart from the random bursts of music that denied her sleep. That voice was her salvation, wasn't it? She began to mouth the words with the voice when it came back. She realized that there was a burst of static just before it spoke, and she used that to match her words with his. "You're a possession, a slave, a fucktoy." She only mouthed the words at first, but she built up to a whisper, and before long, she was saying it aloud. It was her anchor in the storm of forced consciousness. Then it didn't come. Time seemed to go on and on and there was no voice. She began to grow frantic and terrified. She needed it. She needed that voice to give her a hint of stability, a hint of sanity. She craved it. She mewled and whimpered and whined through tears as her terror grew. Finally, when she'd nearly given up entirely, she heard the burst of static and she yelled it out, its grammar simplified by her desperation and confusion. "POSSESSION! SLAVE! FUCKTOY!" And the lights went out and she fell into blissful sleep. ----- She didn't know when they fed her, but she never felt hungry. She was well taken care of. After the first act of breaking her, Ali began to appear in her cell in person. He didn't speak much; mostly he came in and ran his hand over her. The contact felt so good, and she was surprised at the way her body responded. All of her sensations were somehow intensified by her stay in the cell. She needed to be touched. She almost felt as if it was her purpose. It sent a thrill of excitement through her and she could feel and smell how aroused it made her. She sometimes thought she should be embarrassed at how horny she felt, but the embarrassment never came -- just a warm longing to feel it more. After what felt like day after day of this treatment, Ali entered her room and sat beside her in a chair. He touched her patiently, her body responded and lifted against his palm. He eventually lowered his hand to her exposed pussy and pressed a grinding finger down against her clit. Her reaction surprised her as she bucked and raced toward an orgasm that it felt like she'd been waiting for forever. Just as she drew close, he leaned in to her and whispered that it was nearly time. She had no idea what he meant, but those were the words in her ear when she screamed in pleasure, her body convulsing and shuddering wildly. When the last aftershocks faded away and she opened her eyes, he was gone and the darkness had returned. Med School Acceptance Ch. 01 ----- Ali had started to release her from the bed. He had helped her at first, walking her around the room with a hand supporting her under her elbow. Gradually, her strength and flexibility had come back and she was allowed to walk around the room on her own, even when no one was there with her. She enjoyed admiring herself in the mirror as she walked. Her time at home (it was the only home she really remembered now) had made her so much more aware of herself as a sexual being. She loved her shape, she loved the glow of her skin, she loved her breasts, crowned with those stiff nipples, she loved her hips and ass, she loved the little patch of fur over her mound. She loved the gaze she knew was on the other side of that mirror. She had even grown used to relieving herself in the bucket under that gaze, to the point of longing for it. Squatting above it, opening her thighs as the piss flowed from between her cunt lips. It was almost erotic to know that someone on the other side was watching her do it. When she looked at herself in that mirror, she couldn't help feeling someone else's eyes, and that fact always filled her with pleasure. Ali entered as she stood in front of the glass looking herself over. She couldn't quite catch it out of the corner of her eyes, but she thought that he smiled at her. When she turned to see him, he had the same serious, professional expression that he nearly always wore. She turned to face him, her body expressing the obedience she felt. "It's tonight," he said. He pulled a soft black silk cloth from his pocket and set it on the chair beside her bed. "You are to wear that, as a blindfold." He raised his eyes to her and looked her over from head to foot and back again. She thought she saw something like pride in his eyes. She felt her skin flush hot and her desire immediately burned in her belly, but she stood still. "Do you understand?" he asked. "Yes, sir," she answered. Somehow she knew that was the right way to answer. He smiled and left the room. ----- It was her first time leaving the room in as long as she could remember, but she didn't experience any fear. Ali held her by the hand and guided her. She had doubled over the silk blindfold so that she couldn't make out anything but a glow of light at its edges. She walked along long corridors of cold, smooth floors for what seemed like an eternity until Ali stopped her with a touch and told her to wait for a second. She heard a door open beside her and the buzz of whispered voices before Ali returned and led her into the room with a hand on the small of her back. She smiled as her feet sunk into the thick carpeting. She even dug her toes into it a little, every sensation feeling like a thrill after her long deprivation. She followed Ali's lead until he leaned close to her ear and told her to stand still. She nodded, and he left her for a moment. She was aware of bodies and voices all around her, though they weren't close enough to touch her or loud enough to make out clearly. She knew intuitively that this group of people was looking at her and discussing her. She made no attempt to hide the arousal she felt at being the object of their gazes; she could feel her pussy lips swell at the thought and a trickle of her juices flowed down the inside of her thigh. The first voice she heard distinctly was Ali's, and he spoke a loud question: "What are you?" She surprised herself by answering immediately: "I am a possession, I am a slave, I am a fucktoy." Even more surprising was that hers was not the only voice. She had spoken as if in a chorus of singers. There were at least a half-dozen others around the room who had said the same words, in the same rhythm. There was a murmur of approval from around the sides of the room, and this only intensified the pleasure and desire that throbbed deep within her. She couldn't quite follow all of what happened next. The whispers seemed to grow louder and more busy every few minutes as bodies moved around the room. She stood absolutely still until she felt Ali at her side, leading her to what she knew was the center of the room. He pressed his feet between hers, widening her stance somewhat and he parted her thighs with his knee. He lifted her hands and closed clasped them together behind her head, over her dark locks. She stood like that on display, her body experiencing a thrill from the touches that manipulate her position. As she stood, exposed, she heard that same growth in the volume of the whispers, and she could feel the heat of bodies walking around her, looking at her, evaluating her. Ali helped her into a few more positions, bending her forward at the waist to display her ass and the cleft of her cunt, lowering her down onto her knees so she could sit back on her ankles, bringing her forward onto her hands and knees like a horny bitch. At each shift, there was a fresh round of whispers and movements around her. She could feel her body pulsing in excitement, the ache building deep inside her fucktunnel as who knows how many eyes looked her over. The heat in the room around her seemed to grow until she heard Ali's voice whispering clearly through the many others near her. "Sold, for two million." He helped her to her feet, and she felt a moment of panic when she realized he wouldn't be there anymore. He took her hand and placed it in another man's, who led her from the crowded room into an antechamber. There, she could feel another set of eyes on her, and she heard a new voice, this one deep and gentle all at once. "I am your owner." Again, the response came as if automatically. "I am your possession, I am your slave, I am your fucktoy." She could almost hear him smiling. "Good. You will do well. John, take care of the arrangements." She heard the owner of the deep voice leave and the other man, whom she now recognized as an attendant, led her by the hand to yet another room. There he removed her blindfold and helped her into clothes for the first time in months. The touch of John's hand didn't burn her the way Ali's did. She somehow knew that he was a fellow servant, someone with a purpose, not an object of desire. She looked over the clothes folded on the table in front of her and began to dress. She put on the black, lace bra, then pulled the matching garter belt over her hips. She slid her feet into the two white stockings, clipping the garters to their tops to hold them up. She stood for a moment like that, her body partly clothed but her pussy still exposed to the air, and enjoyed the sensation. John helped her into a white dress shirt and buttoned it for her, then she pulled the flared black pleated mini-skirt over her ass and zipped it. The final touch were the shoes -- black heels high enough that when she stood in them, they almost forced her ass out from under the skirt. John took her by the hand and led her out the door down a seemingly endless corridor. He opened the door at the end of the hallway and brought her out into the bright sunlight. She couldn't help but raise her hand to shield her eyes from the light, and she quickly took the few steps to the black sedan. John opened the rear door for her and she sat in the backseat as he closed the door behind her, then circled the car to slide into the driver's seat. The car pulled away smoothly and she looked forward this time, oblivious to the scenes passing beside her, her imagination overflowing with one set of impressions and the sound of just one voice. ----- The car stopped on the tarmac of a private airstrip, and John helped her up the stairs of an executive jet. He led her to a seat beside the window, and she sat, satisfied and waiting. She looked around the well-appointed cabin, the handful of seats covered in fine, supple leather. She ran her hand over her own seat and enjoyed the buttery smoothness of the material. A single flight attendant in uniform moved around the cabin busily, preparing the plane for takeoff, and she stopped to ask her if she wanted anything to drink. She shook her head no; her attention had already been drawn to a seat nearly at the front of the plane, perhaps 4 meters away. The man sitting there faced away from her and was reading from business papers spread on the table in front of him. She couldn't see much of him except for the breadth of his shoulders in his finely-cut suit and the shaved head that bent over the documents. She felt an immediate surge of arousal, almost incomprehensible to her, and she knew what she was thirsty for. Her hips started to move involuntarily in her seat and she could feel her bare ass and flushed pussy grinding against the smooth leather. She felt certain that if she stood up, there would be a wet trail on the seat betraying her feeling of total surrender and excitement. She knew she had to have that man. She knew that she had to please him. She knew that nothing else could satisfy the throbbing in her desperate cunt. Her eyes glazed over as she masturbated herself against the seat, her sensitive flesh slippery and sliding back and forth as she fixes the back of his head with an unrelenting gaze. Her breath came out in gasps and whimpers. She hardly noticed when the jet began to roll down the taxiway, and she only realized that jet was flying down the runway because of the pleasant rumble of vibrations that spread through her seat. Those drove her nearer and nearer her release until she let out a deep moan and let go. Her orgasm came just as the jet left the ground, her body filled with a sense of lightness and ecstasy. ----- She must have lost consciousness for a moment, because when she awoke, the jet was flying level and the flight attendant was handing her a glass of water. She nodded thankfully and took the glass, drinking deeply from it. She kept looking up at where he sat, wishing that she knew how to approach him. She turned her head to look over the rest of the cabin, and she saw that John was the only other passenger, seated in the very last seat, near the airplane door. When she caught John's eyes, he rose immediately, almost as if it had been a pre-arranged signal. He walked up to her and took her hand, raising her from her seat silently, and he guided her up the aisle until she was facing the man directly. His eyes stayed on his documents for the moment, and he spoke to her without raising his head. "You will never conceal your body in my presence when we are in private." She was confused for a moment, the meaning of his words sinking in. Then she nodded and quickly unbuttoned her shirt, reached behind her back to unclasp the bra and pulled both off, casting them aside. She unzipped the skirt and let it fall to the floor of the cabin. At that point, he pulled his eyes away from the papers he was examining and ran his them up her body, his attention particularly focused on the swollen lips of her cunt, still betraying the evidence of her recent orgasm. "Did you cum without asking me, possession?" She didn't know what his tone of voice meant, but she couldn't help but answer honestly. "Yes, sir." "You will not do that again or you will be cast aside." A greater fear than she had ever known filled her. She knew that she couldn't be cast aside. She had to do anything to avoid that. There was only one thing she wanted to be. She wanted to be his. "Yes, sir," she answered with a quiver in her voice. "Now, go and clean up the mess you made. Lick your seat clean. My other servants are not tasked with wiping up your cunt juices." She nodded and took a step back toward her seat, but he reached up to grab a handful of her hair, bringing her down to her hands and knees, scuffing the skin of her knees through her stockings. "Crawl," he added. She did as he asked, crawling back down the aisle the few meters to her seat. She kneeled in front of her seat and began running her tongue along the cool leather, licking up the obvious wet spots at first, then slipping the tip of her tongue into all the seams, the fine stitching tickling her as she obeyed. The feeling of degradation simply set a new fire inside of her cunt, though, and she was soon rocking her hips against air as she followed her owner's command. By the time she was finished, she had been reduced to a panting bitch in heat once more, and she could hardly keep her balance as she crawled back to the side of his seat and looked up into his face pleadingly. He avoided her gaze at first, his attention on his work, then he turned to face her. "What is it, whore?" She let out a soft whimper. "Please, sir, I want to cum again." The slightest of smiles curled the corners of his mouth, and he took her hand, pulling her to her feet and bending her over the edge of the table in front of him, her ass pointed out into the aisle as her heavy breasts push down into the wood. He ran his hand over the curve, feeling the swell of her ass cheek in his palm, his first touch of her flesh. She shuddered in response, her arousal driven instantly higher. The gentle touch lasted only a second before he raised his hand and delivered a sharp, harsh spanking. Her ass rippled in response and was still moving when the second spank landed. He kept beating her naked ass with his open hand, gasps and moans escaping her lips. "If you can cum like this, then go ahead, fucktoy." She nods and bites her bottom lip hard, the tension in her body rising as she gives in to the blended pain and pleasure, the heat spreading over her ass as it turns a darker and darker shade of pink. Her hips press into the corner of the table, applying a little more pressure to her mound, sending a thrill through her hard clit. Her eyes begin to roll back into her head, and she gasps out: "Pleeease ... sir ... may-y ... I?" He answers with a simple yes, and her body obeys him immediately, her deep groans filling the cabin as she gives in to yet another orgasm. Her breaths come out in forceful oomphs as she cums violently under his spanks. She slowly comes down from the high, and her body quivers against the table top. He removes his hand from her ass, picks up a document and absorbs himself in his business. "Now back to your seat, slave." She nods through her post-orgasmic fog and she walks unsteadily back to her seat, her balance uncertain in the black heels. She relaxes into the seat and drifts off into sleep, a sense of total satisfaction filling her. ----- She was only vaguely aware of the plane's arrival at its destination and of her subsequent car ride to a country estate. She hadn't been dressed again. She took the ride in her stockings and garter belt, nothing more. There could be no doubt in any of the servants' minds. about the way in which she served the household. She was awake enough by the time of her arrival to make a note of the broad, symmetrical architecture of the home and of the vast manicured grounds that surrounded it. She was in awe of the place and remained so when she was led to her room, a wide expanse of beautiful colors, fabrics, and furniture. She sat on the edge of the bed and was filled with a sense of contentment at being her owner's fuckdoll. It seemed that nothing could be better. She expected to see him frequently, but she was disappointed when he did not appear at dinner. She went to bed aching for him in more ways than one. Her torment would continue into the next day and the next. She wasn't even sure that he was at home with her. The servants took meticulously good care of her but they didn't answer her questions about him. She dressed in some of the fine clothes hanging in her bedroom's wardrobe and tried to distract herself with long walks through the home and grounds, but though they were beautiful, every new discovery seemed a little empty without him there to share it with her. She had almost given up hope of seeing him when he arrived at the end of the week. She was called to dinner by John, as usual, and when she walked into the dining room, she was overwhelmed to see him sitting at the head of the table. He raised his eyes to meet hers and looked her up and down as he already had several times. He raised his brow slightly. "What did I tell you about being with me in private?" She was overcome by a sense of pleasure at the sound of his voice and of embarrassment at having forgotten herself for a moment. She nodded and quickly lifted her dress over her head, revealing the fact that she hadn't been wearing any underwear, and she removed her shoes before crossing the room and kneeling at his side. "That's better. Now sit beside me and eat your dinner." She complied immediately, pulling a chair close to the table and eating quietly next to him, her eyes fixed on him the whole time, looking for any hint of his wishes that she might satisfy. They ate their meal in silence, his eyes occasionally looking across at her and admiring her naked tits. When he looked, her nipples would inevitably stiffen and her eyes would glaze over in lust, but he didn't reach out to satisfy her. When the main course was over and the servants cleared the plates, he took her hand and helped her up onto the table, dangling her legs over the edge on each side of his body. He pressed her down flat onto the table and nudged her thighs open with his hand. She lay there, her plump cunt swollen and drooling down onto the table when one of the servants brought the dessert of a chocolate fudge cake served with ice cream, and placed the bowl in front of the master between her legs. He ate patiently and quietly as his eyes devoured her throbbing, needy fuckflesh. He smiled and playfully placed a spoonful of the vanilla ice cream directly on top of her clit and watched her shiver and squirm as it melted slowly, dripping down the cleft between her lips and mixing with her juices. When he had finished, he finally spoke again. "John will take you down to the dungeon and prepare you. And I will take you." They were the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. ----- John followed his master's instructions precisely, leading her downstairs into a part of the house that she had never seen. It really was fitted like a dungeon -- windowless walls composed of large, brutish stones and filled with what looked like instruments either of torture or of pleasure. John took her to one of these and eased her onto her back on a padded bench, guiding her neck into one side of a metal shackle, then placing both her wrists in matching metal semi-circles. He lowered the top half of the yoke across her hands and throat, then locked it in place. The shackles held her flat on her back, her wrists and neck in line with one another. John then moved to her ankles and attached a pair of padded leather cuffs to them. He pulled two braided ropes through a set of pulleys on each side of her prone body, and he attached one to a ring on each cuff. He tested the ropes gently, noting that her legs could be stretched open obscenely or left free as desired, then tied them fast in the most exposed position. Once finished with his preparations, John left in silence, and she was left lying on her back, completely helpless and vulnerable to anything her owner should care to do to her. She waited for what felt like forever before hearing his settled step coming down the stairs. He approached her calmly and stood quietly above her for several minutes, simply looking her over, admiring her full tits, her flushed skin, the swell of her hips, the puffy wetness of her cunt, a bit of sticky ice cream drying between her lips, her puckered asshole. He stood near her and ran his hand over her quivering, excited flesh, avoiding all her most sensitive parts, caressing teasingly along her curves. "Have you missed me, fuckpet?" he asks. She let out an animal groan in response, her body craving to be used and abused the way it deserves to be. Med School Acceptance Ch. 01 "That's what I thought." He undressed slowly beside her. She couldn't do anything but watch hungrily as more and more of his body came into view while his business clothes were set aside. His motions were deliberate and patient, and when he turned to face her naked for the first time, she let out an audible gasp. His cock, the center of her longing, was finally revealed to her. It was neither the largest nor the thickest she had seen, but in her mind, it was the image of absolute perfection, and whatever craving she had felt before was multiplied by ten. "Please!!" She wailed. "Please let me have it. I need it, sir. I'm nothing without it. I am meant to be used by you and to give you pleasure. Please!!" He smiled and circled her immobilized body, stopping with his hard shaft dangling over her face, and he brought the thick head to her lips, smearing the precum across them in one slow stroke before thrusting himself down her throat with no hesitation. He fucked into her mouth roughly, with no regard for her, listening to her pitiful gags and sputters while the shaft invaded her over and over again. His hands gripped the yoke that held her head and hands in place and his knuckles turned white as he worked up a sweat, his hips rocking forward and back violently, using her first fuckhole the way it was meant to be used. As he felt the tension rising in his own body, he pulled out with a sloppy wet sound, strands of her spit falling across her face. He slid his balls across that saliva, letting them slip across her face until they were coated. He chuckled and circled her body to where her legs are stretched open, exposing her remaining two fucktargets for anyone to see. He looked down at the swollen peach of her cunt lips, their flesh turned a dark pink by her arousal. He gripped his cock by its base and slapped across her cunt lips roughly, the head of his dick colliding with her erect, sensitive clit over and over. She gasped and shuddered in response and he looked into her eyes. "Do you think you deserve to be fucked?" She struggled to focus enough to answer, then shook her head no and spoke quickly, as if she needed to get it all out before her lust took over again. "No, sir. I'm nothing but a slave and a toy for your pleasure. I don't deserve your cock, but I need it." He smiled at her answer and nodded once more, aligning his dick with the gaping entrance of her cunt and thrusting himself forward in a hard drive of his hips, burying himself entirely inside of her clenching fuckslot. He went at her with the same passion as he did at her throat, using her like the cumsock she knew she was. Over and over, the full length of his shaft pistoned in and out of her, her cunt yielding to every advance of his dick and clinging to it on every retreat. Her sounds grew in frequency and pitch, her screams of pleasure echoing off the bare walls of the basement as he gave her what she now knew that she'd been desiring all her life. Just as she seemed ready to explode in pleasure from the relentless strokes of his cock, he pulled it free of her pussy's grip. She groaned in frustration and opened her eyes to look up at him. He returned her look with a smile. "Do you want me to own you completely?" he asked. "Please, sir," she responded, "you already do." "Then I think I'll demonstrate that fact on your body." He laughed to himself and pressed the slick head of his cock, lubricated with the juices of her overheated cunt, against the puckered opening of her ass. "If I own every part of you, then I think I should ... take every part of you." Just as he said the word take, he thrust the head of his cock past the ring of her asshole, forcing her to accept its thick bulb inside her bowels. One more time he began to thrust into her, forcing his cock gradually deeper and deeper into her body as she grunted and snorted like a filthy fuckpig. He worked his shaft all the way inside her, enjoying the heat and pressure of her tight backdoor before beginning the final stretch run, picking up the pace of his thrusts and propelling himself closer and closer to his release. His hips rocked back and forth violently, his shaft pulling almost free of her ass before plunging back deep inside her, her whole body moving in response to his motions, her pleasure becoming so overwhelming that she became almost silent. His balls swung forward to smack against the flesh of her ass over and over. When she pled, her voice was deeper and more animal than he'd ever heard it: "Pleeease, sir. May I-I-I pleeeeaase cummm?" He let out a grunt, smacked her ass sharply and whispered back. "Yes, cum for me, filthy fuckpet." She went completely silent for a few eternal seconds, then groaned as her body tried to double in half but is prevented by her ties and shackles. She screamed incoherently as the pleasure she'd waited for so long washed over her. Her asshole clenched tightly around his shaft and forces his seed to bubble up from his heavy balls. His shaft began to throb inside her impossibly tight shithole, and he released the first thick spurts of his cum deep inside her, coating her insides with the rush of his hot slippery nut. He pounded her through her orgasm as her spasming muscle milked every last drop of his cream from his balls. Sweaty, he pulled from her well-used body, her cunt and asshole gaping hungrily, still throbbing with occasional aftershocks of pleasure at being treated like the perfect bitch she longed to be. He stood a few feet from her body, watching her shiver in the cool air as cum dripped from her open ass and splashed across the floor. He found her eyes, covered in a fog of pleasure, and he asked her the one question he knew she'd be able to answer, even now. "What are you?" "I'm your possession, I'm your slave, I'm your fucktoy." She answered immediately in a steady voice.