The Artist
mc; MF; Mf; Mdom; oral; anal; mast; bond; preg; best; caution
I've always found the human mind to be fascinating and far more difficult to shape than an animal's; to my eyes, the adult mind sits there looking remarkably like a lump of wet clay – its initial shape formed by experience and education – sitting there waiting for the master's touch to blossom into a work of art. Children on the other hand are bright, shining diamonds glowing white hot and dangerous; impervious to even the simplest attempt at change.
I found the material for my latest work in a third rate casino sitting well off the strip. Sara was a petite 30-something brunette whose mind was practically begging to be refined into something more. As raw material it was beautiful, unsullied with intrusions of deep thought or higher education. It was obvious that no thought beyond the superficial had ever occupied it for very long. As I talked with her, it became apparent that she moved through life more on her looks, popularity, and a certain, albeit limited, willingness to compromise her morals. While she had been a fair student in grade school, puberty and a healthy set of breasts came to her early and she found that hand jobs, blow jobs, and the occasional dry hump and groping session were just as effective in getting passing grades as was actually studying. She had approached her newfound path through the public school system with a sense of equality, dolling out her sexual favors with a free hand to both her male and female teachers. While she had plans to continue her program of sex for grades through college, those plans had come to a halt on the day of her high school graduation. Back then, her celebratory tryst with several members of the high school's in-crowd had left her sans virginity, with child, and facing a series of waitressing gigs and stints in housekeeping, until concluding with employment as an overworked blackjack dealer. It was the pinnacle of the career path for an under-educated mind occupying a slightly more than ordinarily beautiful body.
It only took a few moments to imprint the thought that she and I were live-in lovers and within seconds I'd walked into an unexpected opportunity.
It had taken a few weeks of work to mold Sara into the submissive little pet that was currently kneeling between my legs sucking my cock in apology for yet another one of her 13 year old daughter Jessica's little tantrums. There was no love lost between Jessica and me; Jessica was resentful of my dominant place in the household, confused by her mother's worshipful attitude toward me, and angry that Sara had turned over all decision-making (including the ground rules governing Jessica's adolescent life). I, on the other hand, found myself increasingly frustrated by my inability to access Jessica's bright glowing mind. Here was a mind that was pure, waiting to be transformed, to be released. If only I could work with both mother and child, I would be able to create a masterpiece, a work that would sweep all before it and carry my name down through the ages. As I came down my little pet's throat, the beginnings of an experiment began to form.
Pet was ecstatic; she had been permitted to stay by Owner's side all day, an act which had kept her in a state of arousal the entire time. It would have been a perfect day had not that Other thrown a fit about a matter of little consequence. Why couldn't the Other see that life was just simpler and far more pleasurable when one just obeys? Pet knew it was up to her to relieve the tension that was so obvious on Owner's face so she gently tugged him toward the bedroom. She pushed him lightly to the edge of the bed and knelt before him, dropping her gown from her shoulders as she went down. She fished his semi-erect cock from his pants and brought it fully erect with light caresses, kissing its growing length, and gently sucking his balls into her mouth. Pet then took it into her mouth, working it with her tongue and lips, breaking her rhythm only to deep-throat him, pushing her face against his pelvis and savoring that chocking sensation as his cock entered her throat. She instinctively knew just how long he liked to be held on the edge of orgasm and had a shiver of delight when she was finally allowed to bring him over the edge and his cum gushed into her mouth. She held it in her mouth, savoring the flavor before swallowing and sitting back on her heels to wait.
Pet was so pleased when Owner got up off the bed and moved behind her. As he pushed her onto her hands and knees, she could feel her cunt juices begin to drip down her legs. Owner took some time rubbing his cock against her cunt, lubing it with her copious juice and revitalizing his erection. She spent a brief moment wondering which of her holes Owner would deem suitable for his use before feeling a single hard thrust into her ass that left her impaled on his cock, forcing a brief squeak of pain from her mouth before a massive orgasm shook her. Each stroke of Owner's cock triggered orgasm after orgasm, and when he finally shoot his cum deep into her bowels, her final orgasm brought unconsciousness. The last things she remembered was Owner's voice whispering instructions to her and a far off, small voice from someone called Sara, screaming.
As a l let Pet's limp body slide off my dick, I added a few small strokes to the clay of her mind. A small modification that would drive her to take her daughter to a local clinic run by a Dr. Clark. Marsha Clark was one of my early works, a slightly Rubenesque blond I met while she was working her way through medical school. Her mind was crisscrossed with intrusions of intelligence and despair (a byproduct of a miscarriage and divorce). I, in my inexperience, thought that I could work around these imperfections, that a work of art could still be built upon these less than perfect foundations.
Dr. Clark made for an interesting toy, but the flaws in her mind prevented her from truly becoming the work of art I had envisioned. She made for a good toss off fuck, but her screaming nightmares and curious unplanned fetishes quickly became boring and I left her to her own devices when it became clear I would never be able to mold her to my vision.
It had been several years since I had put this toy on the shelf and as I dressed I wondered if there would be anything left in her mind for me to mold. While I lived in hope that the artistic approach would work, I resigned myself to accept the fact that I may have to use that crude tool: blackmail. I threw a blanket over Pet's sleeping form as I left, pausing slightly to watch the fluids leak from her naked body looking in wonder as I realized how close I was to completing this work.
Toy awoke to find herself groveling at Maker's feet. Any semblance of the entity calling itself Dr. Clark had fled howling into the recesses of her mind, drawing dark folds of memory around itself seconds after it had opened its apartment door and saw Maker standing there. Toy was its defense, a tissue paper warrior sent to protect what sanity it had left. Toy kept her eyes pinned to the floor and her body prostate. It was not permitted to look up at Maker without permission and she knew there was only one reason for Maker's reappearance: he could only be here to bring pain, release, and death. Toy was joyous when Maker chose to merely push her body out of his path, as this signaled that at least pain would wait, for there would be instruction this night as well.
Toy gasped when Maker reached down and, grabbing a handful of hair, half-dragged, half-walked her through to the living room, laying her face up on the coffee table in the middle of the room. Toy was confused: pain either started at first sight or waited until instruction had finished. This rather gentle beginning was not normal, however deeply erotic her treacherous mind found such kindness to be. Toy watched out of averted eyes as Maker went back to the door and brought back two items, items Toy was intimately familiar with. In his left hand he carried a plain paper bag – an ordinary item that could only contain tonight's pain – while his right held a leash and following that leash came release and death: a blank-eyed Great Dane sporting a priapic erection.
Maker brought four lengths of coarse rope out of the bag and tied Toy's arms and legs to the table's legs, spread-eagling her and forcing her to arch her back slightly. It was a position Toy was all too familiar with and her body responded in predictable Pavlovian fashion. She could feel the flush of arousal course across her skin, her cunt warming and moistening in spite of her knowledge of what was sure to come. Maker then drew a large knife from the bag and quickly cut her clothes from her body, not caring if he nicked her skin or drew blood. The slight pain of this violent disrobing brought Toy back to familiar ground. She understood the rules of pain; she knew that the pain was clean and pure, an anchor that would see her though the inevitable shame of relief and death's eventual sorrow. Maker turned from Toy and went into the kitchen, leaving her to lie amongst her shredded clothes, watched only by the mindless stare of the dog standing next to her.
Maker's return was marked by a dimming of the living room lights and the flare of a match. Toy barely had time to register the thought that tonight's pain was to start with candles when the words began to flood into her mind and a scream passed from her lips as the wax dropped onto her clit. Toy spent hours in exquisite pain, her body becoming ever more aroused and ever more demanding for the release of orgasm, but Toy knew that she was flawed and that no matter what Maker did to or with her, her body would trigger that release. She knew that it was this flaw that caused Maker to reject her and denied her existence as a complete being. As the pain dimmed, Toy was aching for release and dreaded the moment when it would be granted to her.
Maker untied the ropes holding Toy to the table and she collapsed down onto its top and as she fell. The dog, responding to some command from Maker, mounted her. As the beast's dick entered her, she began to cum and those initial waves of pleasure tore through her tissue-paper existence. Sobbing, Toy faded away.
As Marsha Clark came to, she was aware of three things: that a huge dog was fucking her, that she was in the midst of the best orgasm she had had in months, and that she was sobbing. She gasped as the dog's knot pushed its way into her cunt and she felt shame in the realization that after years of therapy she still had not conquered this unnatural desire for this perverse sexual release. She never knew where these exquisitely trained animals came from. They just seemed to appear, accompanied by a dream-like memory of a man, a man who had dominated her and tortured her, but these tenuous wisps of memory always slipped away soon after waking. But the dog was real and she knew that in addition to the ordinary obedience training, this dog would lick her, fuck her, or sodomize her for hours on end, and each deliciously pleasurable degrading act was at her command. Yet she sensed that this would be the last dog she would ever receive. She spoke a single word and as the dog pulled itself from her she was overwhelmed with the delightfully perverted notion that she would be artificially impregnating her newest patient, a 13 year old named Jessica, and that she was to devote ever resource at her command to accomplish this one task. That thought triggered yet another orgasm.
I left my little toy thrashing about in ecstasy as the Great Dane fucked her cunt raw. I was pleased that her mind was still sufficiently malleable for me to imprint my plan on it, but I was sad to see that these final strokes would be the last I would ever make upon this particular canvas. Toy had fled and what remained of Dr. Clark was so fragile that in all likelihood she would burn herself out, along with what was left of her mind, performing the task I'd set for her.
It had been delicate, boring work since I found no pleasure in working in pain alone, but then Toy had always been a rather dull, unresponsive fuck. While she would perform, there was no life in those performances, no arousal, and while the shame she exhibited afterwards held some mild amusement, I never got the satisfaction I was seeking. On the other hand, pain produced the most erotic screams from her while making her mind exquisitely malleable. A small drop of molten wax on her clit was sufficient to trigger her arousal, but it was the application of an electric cattle prod to her tits, inner thighs, ass, and pussy that softened her mind into something usable. It had taken hours of gentle work before I was sure that my instructions had been fully integrated into her being, hours of the most delightful moans, screams, and abject begging. I left her on the coffee table, unfettered, sobbing and lying in a pool of her own fluids, stopping only briefly to command the dog to start fucking her – a task he'd been programmed to continue until she told him otherwise.
It took 6 months of treatment before my experiment succeeded, and when the moment of implantation occurred, the diamond brilliance that was Jessica's mind shattered, freeing that pure, clean canvas that was Jessica's mind. The time to create had arrived.
It was three months before Slut was complete and she was truly my magnum opus, for not only was she transformed, but I as I created her, the mind of her developing child changed as well. Could I dare hope that my work wound finally be able to sustain itself over the generations?
I took my little slut's virginities about halfway through her transformation. My work had reached the point where the doll's mind still retained most of her conscious personality but her subconscious was willingly compliant. Taking my first virgin was an exquisite experience, her subconscious preparing her body to accept me even while she yelled obscenities at me. Her body let me lead her to my bed and as I laid her back across the mattress, her legs spread of their own volition. I took little time entering her, my need to sink my cock into that tight pussy overwhelming any desire for finesse. I tore through Slut's maidenhead in one stroke, burying myself balls-deep in a single thrust. Her continuous stream of obscenities transformed into a marvelous wail that reached into the highest registers her voice could manage. It was interesting to see how much control her conscious mind could still exert; she thrashed around my cock to such good effect that I was soon filling her to overflowing.
My desire to see her reaction when I took her ass kept me hard as I pulled out of her and flipped her over onto her stomach. I watched briefly as a mixture of her blood and my cum oozed out of her before plunging into her backdoor. While her wailing subsided somewhat, she continued to buck beneath me, fucking herself with my cock. It was such a delight to have this little slut practically take her own virginity. Despite having already cum once, her vigorous actions quickly brought me to the edge again and as my cum shot into her bowels, I collapsed onto her panting form. Only partially completed and she was already surpassing my expectations.
I finished introducing her to the elementary aspects of her future talents by fucking her throat. One look at her sweaty, panting body told me that she was in no shape to provide even the poorest of blow jobs, even if her subconscious mind would drive her to perform. As I thrust into her mouth, tears decorated her face and she made small mewing sounds around my cock. After about 10 minutes of the only real fucking I had done this night, I filled her mouth with my cum and left her drooling bodily fluids from all her orifices.
Jessica loathed her mom's new boyfriend from the day they moved into his house. She watched in disbelief as her mom transformed into a doting submissive and, based on the sounds that emanated from their bedroom each night, Jessica was sure that he had roped her into some strange sex stuff. The teenager had, on occasion, even seen her mom wander down to breakfast dazed with white goo dripping from her face. Now, she know that her mom had sex with her previous boyfriends, she'd even sneaked a peek one time when the bedroom door had been left ajar, but this time it was completely different. Her mom had stopped working and seldom wore normal clothes anymore. In fact it seemed that her mom's entire wardrobe had been replaced by a selection of sheer robes and almost transparent slips and nighties.
It didn't help matters that this nutcase had taken over Jessica's life too, filling it with rules and restrictions. They were totally unreasonable things like no computer or phone in her room, no going out until her homework was completed, no staying out after 9, no seeing boys without a chaperon (he would even call and check, totally embarrassing her). He'd completely ruined her social life and had made it so that she'd never get a date this century. She was even sure that having to see this new, weird doctor was, somehow, his idea too. She hadn't felt sick before going, but after all those tests, shots, and pills she was certainly feeling really moody. When she really started to feel ill and was throwing up almost daily, the doctor visits stopped.
Jesslut knew she was changing. For the last couple of weeks just the presence of her mom's boyfriend would leave her turned on and racing to her bedroom to run her fingers around her clit and up into her cunt in a desperate drive to find some form of release. He was filling her dreams and her fantasies. It was getting to the point where, no matter how hard she tried, she could only get herself off by imagining him thrusting into her. When she was away from him, at school or (on the increasingly rare occasion) out with what remained of her friends, she lived with a feeling of dread that one day he would lead her into his bedroom.
That day came all too soon for Jesslut. It was a rainy, gray day that had turned into a cold, dreary night and Jesslut found herself walking into the den, standing in front of both her mom and the boyfriend, and stripping. This was no mere undressing; she found her body swaying erotically as she slowly, tantalizingly removed each item of clothing. When she was naked, her dance concluded with her kneeling before him with her head bowed. He stood and, putting his hand under her chin, he lifted her back on to her feet. Then he took her hand and led her into his bedroom. Jesslut did not want to go, she tried to resist, she tried to force her body to stay where it was, she tried to plead with her mother to save her, but the only thing that would come out of her mouth were swear words, so she screamed profanities all the way to the bed.
Once she got there, her body seemed to welcome his attentions as much as her mind rejected them. As he laid her down on the bed, her pussy warmed and moistened in anticipation, her legs spread in welcome and she could do nothing but watch and scream as he undressed. He knelt between her legs and with a single motion plunged his cock into her tiny slit. She felt a single sharp pain before being overwhelmed by the sensation of being split in half. It cut off her continuous stream of swearing replacing it with screams of pain so loud that it made her throat burn. In spite of the pain, her body seemed to revel in each of his trusts; it moved itself around his cock in a frantic race to climax, a race that it lost as he came first, abruptly pulling out and flipping her over.
Jesslut only had a moment to wonder what would be next before his cock invaded her ass. Again, pain coursed through her body, becoming the single focus of her conscious mind. Her screaming stopped as she was no longer able to force her raw throat to make that much noise. Her body, on the other hand, willingly drove his cock deeper. He kept infuriatingly still and let her drive them both toward orgasm. To Jesslut, it seemed like hours of exquisite torture, but she welcomed the moment when he began to fill her with his cum for a second time and triggered her own release.
Something inside Jesslut knew that he wasn't finished with her and she almost anticipated his lifting her head and sliding his dirty cock into her mouth. She just lay there sobbing as he fucked his cock in and out of her mouth, quietly choking on it as it plunged into her throat. As her mouth filled to the point of overflowing with his cum Jesslut felt something change in her mind. As he pulled out of her throat, she felt his cum drip out of her mouth and heard a small voice called Jessica whimpering in the back of her mind.
Slut found herself lying face down before Master with his cum in her mouth. She swallowed it instinctively and was rewarded by an orgasm coursing through her body. Exhausted after servicing Master, she slept.
I had my masterwork: Pet and Slut were perfection, eager to perform every possible act I could conceive. Their responses were sublime: their voices and bodies giving expression to the sexual enjoyment I induced in them. They even surpassed my expectations by finding pleasure among themselves, often welcoming me home to the sight of mother and daughter in the thrall of sapphic delights.
I watched with wonder as changes raced across Slut's developing baby's mind. While I could not see within that diamond-bright mind, I could tell that this child would be born with a mind of extraordinary potential. I looked forward to this child's birth, hoping that the marvelous work of art that was Slut's mind would breed true, but resigned to the fact that I may have to impregnate the child as soon as possible if I was to have access to such beautiful material.
The baby arrived late one night after a long labor that kept Slut teetering on the edge between pain and pleasure. As the baby crowned, Slut climaxed and continued to orgasm as her infant slipped into the world. I was pleased that my work of art could appreciate the eroticism of such a primal act. As the doctor placed the infant in Slut's arms, I gazed upon this new mind, evaluating its potential and as I looked I found Muse staring back at me.
The Artist sat in the corner of his room muttering. He had been abandoned by His Muse, his creativity torn from him. He was left alone in a world where he was surrounded by beautiful raw material that he could see but not touch. His body and mind perpetually denied even the briefest respite. He had watched as His Muse appeared, had felt her weigh his work and his talents, and had suffered when she found them lacking. She left him alone, talentless, and with only the screams of a small voice in the back of his mind for company.
