The early afternoon sun streamed in broken beams, through the blinds and into the conference room where Amanda sat. She was transfixed by motes of dust dancing near the windowsill, and the glistening of golden light on the backs of her clients' fine Italian suits. While she drifted in and out of focus, eight-figure sums were changing hands in front of her, the fruition of several years, and thousands of man-hours of hard work. But now that it was basically done, she didn't much care. By the end of this meeting it would be completely out of her hands, and she was already worlds away.
She snapped uncomfortably back to the present.
“I'm so sorry.” She said. “Could you repeat that?”
“No worries,” Neil replied, kindly. “We're all a little scattered with the hours we've been putting in on this.” He smiled his fatherly smile and continued. “I just asked if you had anything else to add before we close the book on this one.”
“Oh, no, I think that's about it.” She smiled back, and turned to the clients. “Your team was really on top of the document transfers from the start, so you already have all the information we have. Of course, our clerks will be available to you throughout the transition.”
Amanda registered their looks of approval and comprehension, and immediately zoned out again, leaving them to their congratulatory hand-shaking and small talk. Her face became a placid, thoughtless smirk. Her only immediate concern was not to be seen constantly shifting her pelvis and curling her toes, seeking a comfortable position that did not exist. For the last two weeks straight she had been wearing a new toy, a stainless steel monstrosity that jutted out in ridiculous dimensions, and she'd found it truly impossible to get used to.
But her ever-present arousal had gone unnoticed, or at least politely unacknowledged, for the last two weeks, so it couldn't really be worth worrying about, could it? She crossed her legs under the table and shifted her weight to her left thigh, then to her right. She felt a thrilling stab of metal inside her and shivered.
* * *
“Are you sure we can't convince you to stay?” Neil tried, for the thousandth time.
“I'm sure.” Amanda laughed. She loaded the last of her personal effects into a cardboard box.
“Worth a shot,” He grinned, and leaned against the doorway of her empty office. “You know. I can't say it enough. The work you put in on this deal was top-notch. We really could not have pulled it off without you.”
“Stop it!” She waved off his praise. “We had thirty people moving mountains to make this happen.”
“I'm serious! You have a real knack for this business. You could have a real future here.”
Amanda put the box down and stepped towards Neil. She looked up into his deeply lined face and held his gaze.
“I've loved working here for the past seven years.” She said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “And I will always be grateful for the opportunities you gave me. But I'm ready to move on. Me and Tom are ready to move on.”
At 70, Neil was fully twice her age, and Amanda felt like a son telling his father he didn't want to take over the family business.
“I know,” Neil sighed. “and I'm happy for you. I really am. But just know that if you ever change your mind, there's a place for you here.”
“Or if you need a reference.”
“Or if you have a reference!” he added. “You know we still haven't found a damn replacement for you!”
They laughed together at that. Then, Neil grabbed her and held her tight, catching them both off guard.
“I'll miss you, kid.” There it was.
* * *
At home, Amanda resisted the urge to massage her aching nipples. They were tender from two weeks of hard training and already a bit chafed when Neil had unknowingly crushed them against his chest. But relief was not an option, not yet. She was forbidden to touch them for any reason other than to comply with Tom's instructions. That meant that unless she was cleaning them, putting in or taking out jewelry, or having a medical emergency, they were off limits. Under normal circumstances she could have asked special permission, but she hadn't actually seen Tom in two weeks, and his instructions made clear that she was not to deviate from them.
Besides, he would never have granted such permission. He loved to deny her those most basic pleasures, and she loved him for denying them to her. Even now, the threat of his correction was stirring something deep within her. She had gone two whole weeks now without deviating once from his orders. It wouldn't be easy, but she could keep her greedy fingers in line for a few more hours, and then she'd get to be with him.
* * *
Tom and Amanda had been together for twelve years, and today marked the tenth anniversary of their Contract. Ten years ago to the day, Tom had given Amanda her collar, the symbol of her unquestioning, unwavering obedience and devotion to him, the central pillar of her life. Of course, Tom would have hated to hear her phrase it in those terms; he had never quite been comfortable being the center of someone's universe. For him, dominance games were just that, games. He loved Amanda, but what he liked was that he could drag her around by the hair, force her face down into a pillow and plow her raw, smack her in the mouth if she was bratty, and know that she was loving every second of it. It was fun for him, and that was that. He was never trying to be anyone's spiritual center.
But that's what happened. Before the Contract, Amanda was directionless, unmotivated, prone to bouts of depression. She bounced from job to job, she couldn't really maintain relationships, hell, she couldn't keep a ficus plant alive. When Tom agreed that their dominant/submissive dynamic would be about more than just getting his rocks off, when he agreed to really whip her into shape, her whole life changed. For the first time ever, she had a reason to hold herself to some kind of standard. There were consequences for her failures, real consequences, ones that she gave a shit about.
Before, if she didn't pay the cable bill for a few months, they shut off the cable. Maybe they sent collections after her. Maybe her credit score took a hit. Big deal, who ever checks their credit score? But under the Contract, if she missed a deadline of any kind, she'd be feeling it on her backside until the next one rolled around, and probably on the soles of her feet too. But that was nothing next to the knowledge that she had disappointed him, that they had signed an agreement that she wanted, and she failed him. That's what kept her together.
And after a while, her whole life started falling into place. She had a stable career, she was reconnecting with her sister, she even got back into playing tennis for the first time since high school, and started making friends. Some days she couldn't believe that this kind of a happy, healthy life was real, and she had to just step back and soak it all in. It was like a magic spell had been cast over her life. All she had to do to work the spell was devote herself to him, and trust him to take care of her, and she did. And it had all turned out all right. She gave up her choice, and she got back her freedom.
Of course, no relationship is perfect, and for the first few years, Amanda couldn't help but feel impatient from time to time. Despite how wonderful it was for her, Tom was always hesitant about taking power over her actual life. They would play every day when they could, and take long weekends from time to time just to immerse themselves in it, so it was an integral part of their lives, but they were never quite on the same page. Whatever boundary they had just crossed, Amanda was always ready to push the next one, while Tom was still worrying whether the last one had been a good idea. He was always terrified that he might push her over the limit one day, and lose her forever. He was always checking in with her, wanting to hear every detail of how she thought and felt about the Contract, every few weeks sitting her down and asking if she still consented to this rule or that one. But she always assured him constantly that she was happy as long as he was happy, and he felt the same way.
So on they went, slowly. And little by little, she transferred her power to him. By the second year, the Contract was only up for negotiation every two months. By the fourth, it was once a year, on the anniversary of the signing. Every year since then, he would prepare something special to mark the date, usually a new piercing (or several). Afterwards, they would play out an extra long scene involving punishments for all the years biggest transgressions. Then they would discuss any changes to the Contract. Amanda would kneel before Tom wearing only her collar, and he would ask her, rule by rule, if she still consented. It was her one chance per year to change a rule she didn't like, and she had never once done so. Then he would ask her what new rules she wanted, and tell her what her new rules would be.
It worked. The fifth year, he began choosing all of her food and clothing. The sixth, she needed his permission to leave the house. After the seventh, she was to remain naked at all times while in the home, and couldn't use the bathroom or touch herself without asking. The eighth year, she started direct-depositing her paycheck into his account, and receiving only a small weekly allowance. She still had to get permission for any purchase over fifty dollars. The entire tenth year, this year, she had not been allowed any sexual pleasure whatsoever. Every year she got closer to what she really desired in her heart, which was to be 100% his.
But she had her own misgivings about the arrangement. Although he always trusted and believed her when she said she was happy, and although the Contract allowed him to terminate it at any time, and for any reason, she couldn't help but wonder if deep down, he was still doing all this for her. He always seemed comfortable exercising more and more power and control over her, but it had been her idea to start with, and he had been uncomfortable at first. Would he do something he didn't want in his heart for a whole decade just to please Amanda? And if he did, wouldn't that invalidate the entire thing?
These thoughts didn't creep up often, and when they did, she brushed them aside. Ultimately, Tom was choosing every single day to continue the Contract, and if it wasn't perfect it was damn close, and getting better all the time. There was nothing to be gained by questioning it, and she didn't want her perfect lover to think she was ungrateful for him.
Still, she couldn't banish the thoughts entirely. Every so often, when he gave her an extraordinarily challenging task, or when she was on the verge of breaking down from a hard whipping, he would come back to the same reassuring phrase. He would lean in close and kiss her cheek and say “I never make you do anything you can't do.” There was so much meaning packed into those words. There was love, warmth, and confidence there, and there was the promise that no mercy would be given. But sometimes Amanda thought those words also held a crucial misunderstanding of who she was.
The fact was, Tom was right, he didn't ever make her do anything she couldn't do. But that was because, in truth, he never made her do anything at all. Sure, he ordered her to do things, and he punished her severely when she failed, but they were all things she already wanted to do. She loved pain, and discipline, and being fucked until she couldn't see straight, and being pushed to the limits of her endurance and beyond them. She loved the healthy and stable life that their Contract had made possible. His punishments and his disapproval were strong motivators, but he himself was always motivated at least in part by her well-being. In all the time they'd been together, he'd never used the Contract for selfish reasons. Sometimes she even thought that he was just as much her possession as she was his. She knew deep down, though she dared not admit it even to herself, that she could never truly feel fulfilled by that. Until he really made her do something, she would never truly be his.
In her heart, Amanda was a slave. But was Tom her master? Could he truly own her? He was excellent at using harsh and cruel methods to shape her, but was he capable of being cruel at heart?
* * *
Amanda sat naked at the edge of the bed and gazed in the mirror, Tom's last set of instructions in an envelope next to her, along with a large gift bag. It was normal in the few days before their anniversary for him to leave the house, and communicate only by written instructions. He would spend those days preparing their apartment in the city, and she would spend those days preparing herself at home. But this time was different. In years past it had been three or four days at the very most, with a good morning and good night phone call each day. This year, he had gone away and left instructions for two whole weeks, and allowed for no contact whatsoever. No clarification. No confessions. No room for error.
The very first day, when he left, he issued perhaps his boldest order ever. Amanda was to give her two weeks' notice at the office immediately. She was not to offer any explanation or entertain any discussion. She remembered how her breath caught in her throat when she heard him say that, how she dared to hope that this was the year he would reach out and truly enslave her once and for all, how she had to stop her hands from darting straight for her cunt. To her dismay, after that the instructions had been pretty mundane. Each day had detailed training regimens for her nipples and ass, and while they were more strenuous than ever, they weren't unusual by their nature. He also specified a 1,200 calorie a day diet consisting entirely of chicken, broccoli, couscous and water. This was also not unusual.
She opened the final set of instructions, read them over twice, and began carrying them out in order. In the bag were several accessories, which she emptied onto the bed. She found a pair of high heeled shoes, with a very high stiletto heel, intentionally chosen a half-size too small for her feet. They were leather, open-toed, strappy, with a thick leather cuff and a padlock on each ankle. She fastened them on and tossed the keys into Tom's nightstand drawer.
Next she picked up a small box labeled Hazen and Hennessy Jewelry Co., and her stomach sank. She knew Mr. Hazen and she knew exactly what kind of jewelry he made. In fact, she had introduced him to Tom, and now she cursed herself for having done so. Inside the box were two titanium circlets, a bit larger than silver dollars. One side was smooth and rounded, and the other side was covered in tiny little spikes. A thick clamp in the center was held in place by an array of tiny metal springs. Amanda drew short, shallow breaths as she fastened these onto her aching nipples. Immediately they began to swell, pushing against the clamps, pressing the springs into the outer disk, forcing the array of tiny spikes to bite into the flesh of her nipple. Hazen and Hennessy made devices not to prevent arousal, but to punish it. The pain was fierce and rapid, and Amanda doubled over, balling her hands into fists. Now that the rings were in place, she was once again forbidden to touch or sooth the flesh in any way. Slowly, the pain subsided, the rings found a tolerable equilibrium, and Amanda felt her heartbeat through them, a slow, rhythmic pulsing of irrepressible sensation that radiated all the way to her cunt.
Next came the vibe. She held it in her hand and was terrified. It was small enough, but nothing had been inside her for an entire year. Not a toy, or a tongue, or a finger. Not even a q-tip. She had actually switched back to pads because Tom thought she might enjoy too much putting tampons in. Her pussy had been quivering non-stop for weeks now, and any direct sensation could put her over the edge. It could ruin everything Tom had worked a whole year for. Slowly she worked up the nerve, and in one motion she cranked the vibe into the on position and shoved it inside, then tried with all her might to relax her thighs and hoped for the best. It was a challenge, but she could make do.
Then, Amanda came to the ribbon, and she knew instantly she would fail. In order to make this work, she would have to touch herself more than she had in the entire previous year. There was no way she would be able to make it. She looked at the clock, and saw that she had only twenty-five minutes before she had to leave. Tom had not told her she could use any aids, but she had to. She would risk the punishment. Anything was better than ruining a whole year of abstinence. She got the numbing cream out of the nightstand and coated her labia with it from an open palm. It began to work instantly, but it would wear off quickly too. She immediately got to work threading a twelve-inch pink ribbon through the piercings in her labia, cinched it tight and tied it off in a bow around her hood piercing.
Tom's next instruction, now that he knew she'd be a bundle of raw nerves waiting to boil over, was to give her a task requiring patience, precision, and focus. A small task, but a task nonetheless. She was to paint her fingernails and toenails, and she had to choose the color herself. She was sure he had included that just to piss her off. She chose violet, Tom's favorite color.
By the time her nails were all painted and dried, the numbing agent was wearing off and she was losing her focus again. Thankfully there were only a few little things left to do. She put on a pair of lacy red panties, slipped a pair of handcuffs through them in back, threw a raincoat over her mostly naked body, fastened the top button of the coat, then slid her hands into the cuffs behind her and clicked them shut. The panties were already riding up, but that would be the least of her worries. She had to walk extremely carefully or the coat would fly open and expose her. And of course, the toys inside her were rubbing up against one another and poking her this way and that, and the rough fabric of the coat was a constant aggravation to her nipples, so she'd be attracting glances from most anyone she passed on the street. Thankfully, Tom always sent a car, so her outdoor time would be limited. She hobbled downstairs to the driveway and saw a familiar driver waiting for her. Tom had hired this man before. He helped her gently into the back seat, and they were on their way.
Before long it became apparent that the driver was taking the long way into the city, and what's more, he was doing it all on local roads. Amanda knew better than to think this was coincidence. Tom would have known she couldn't hold out like this, and he probably instructed the driver accordingly. Her suspicion was all but confirmed when they turned down a cobblestone street and started speeding. Suddenly her constant throbbing and pulsing was punctuated by thousands of little rivets that all seemed to strike in one spot, like a laser-guided machine gun, right where the seat met her body. In seconds, her breath was ragged and her vision was blurred.
“Could, could you--” She stammered, “could you please, sl-slow.” But the driver didn't seem to hear her. “COULD YOU SLOW DOOOOOOAAAAAAAOOOOOOGGGGGGHHH.”
For an instant, Amanda couldn't see or hear anything, as wave after crashing wave of joy rippled through her from head to toe. She was vaguely aware of a rapid tensing and spasming as her legs flailed and she bucked hard against the seat belt. Finally, after what seemed like hours, she regained her faculties, and for a long moment all she could feel was the biting pain on her nipples, and a storm cloud of lust and shame in her gut. She had failed.
She looked around inside of the car. Her left leg was up on the center console. Her left shoe was off of her foot, held in place only by the padlocked ankle cuff. Her right foot was planted on the floor, and it was soaked. She was soaked. She had squirted a bucket, soaking through the ribbon and the lace panties, probably ruining the lining of the raincoat, and leaving a dripping puddle on the leather upholstery.
Presently, the driver stopped, got out of the car, and came around to her door and opened it.
“Here,” He said, unbuckling her. “Turn your legs this way.”
She did, and he helped fasten her shoe back on properly. She didn't know why he was helping her. Clearly Tom wanted it this way, and even if he hadn't, she would never have lied or hidden anything from him to avoid punishment, not that there was any chance of getting away with that, the way she looked.
“Listen,” the driver continued. “Your husband said you might do this, and he gave me special orders in case you did. Now he's paying me very well to make sure those orders are carried out, so just cooperate and we can do this quick and easy for everyone.”
Before Amanda had time to process this, the man had hiked up her coat and torn away the soaked panties. She made as if to resist, but he simply grabbed both of her ankles under his arm and shimmied the panties off. He wiped the seat with them and then gestured toward Amanda. Suddenly it dawned on her. Slowly, she opened her mouth wide, and the driver stuffed them in.
“You're gonna want them all the way in.” He said, sympathetically, “or else you're gonna get a lot of weird looks.” He stuffed them further in then, filling her cheeks and her throat, and she closed her lips tight around them.
“Now, your apartment is three and a half blocks north of here on the opposite side of the street. I'd hurry if I was you. Street's not that busy right now, but I don't know how long that'll last.”
* * *
Amanda climbed the last of the stairs to the ninth floor. She'd been unable to work the elevator without her hands. She was now sweaty, come-soaked, limping, sore in the joints, and she'd been exposed to half of fifth avenue, with the taste of her own cunt stinging her throat, and she was quickly approaching a second forbidden release. The door opened as she arrived and mercifully, Tom whisked her inside.
She collapsed in his arms without hesitation. She nuzzled against his chest and tried to tell him how much she loved and missed him through the rolled up panties in her mouth. But Tom was preoccupied. He was already setting the next event in motion. He carried Amanda into their bedroom and leaned her against the wall like a rag doll, removed her coat and went to the kitchen.
Amanda looked around at the apartment. There was nothing special in it this time. In previous years, Tom would spend days setting up rigs and harnesses, laying out torture implements on racks and shelves. This time, it just looked like their apartment.
Then, she saw it. Hanging from the ceiling a few feet away from the bed. A single, solitary length of rope. They had never played with such a simple setup before. She had no idea what it could be for.
Tom arrived back from the kitchen with three tall glasses of water and set them down on a table nearby. He produced a key-ring and removed Amanda's handcuffs and shoes. Then he sat down on the bed.
“Amanda.” He said. His voice was like heaven to her.
“Drink those glasses of water,”
She drank them without hesitation, spilling some down her front in her haste.
“Now come kneel.”
She knelt in front of him and waited for his next command.
“Amanda. Every year since we signed the Contract, you've given more and more of yourself to me. You've always been obedient, devoted, and willing to do anything I ask of you, isn't that right?”
“Yes sir.” She said eagerly, looking up at him with wide eyes.
“And every year, when you kneel in front of me, and I ask you if you want to go further, what do you say?”
“I want to go further, Sir!”
“Do you want that now?”
“Are you sure?”
“More than anything Sir! I want it more than I've ever wanted anything.”
Tom looked deep into her eyes.
“What do you have left to give me?”
Amanda was speechless.
“I said, 'what do you have left to give me?'”
“I don't underst--”
Tom covered her mouth with his hand, and elaborated calmly, and without anger.
“I own all of your clothes. Your shoes, Your furniture. I buy your food. I tell you what you can do and when, and where, and why, and with whom. Everything I tell you to do, you do. Everything I tell you not to do, you don't do. I can choke you with my cock until you can't talk right, beat you until you pass out from the pain. I can make you walk naked down a busy avenue with a piss-soaked rag in your mouth, and you'll thank me for all of it. Hell, I have all the money you've made in the last three years. All of it. I just have it. What do you have left to give me? How can we go further from here?”
Amanda didn't understand. Was he leaving her?
“Sir, I don't--”
“It's a simple question, Amanda.”
“I don't know sir.”
“Well, we're going to figure it out, together. Does that sound good?”
“Yes! Yes sir it does.”
“Good. Stand up.”
Amanda stood up and allowed Tom to guide her over to where the rope was hanging from the ceiling. He fiddled with the rope for a minute and fashioned the hanging end into a noose.
“Step over here.” He said, and she did. He slipped the noose around her neck and tightened it. “Now kneel.” She did. He adjusted the rope, giving it more slack and then less, until he'd decided exactly how much he wanted. When he was done, Amanda could just kneel upright without putting pressure on her neck, but it was hell on her knees. Tom came around front with the handcuffs and fastened her wrists together in her lap. Then he sat back on the bed facing her.
“I have a new proposal for you.” He said. She look at him, wary of his tone. “From now on, no more negotiations.” Amanda's heart began to race. Was this it? Was he going to claim her?!
“Sir?” She begged.
“From now on, I'm just going to make rules as I see fit. And you have two options. You can either follow those rules, without question, without hesitation, with every measure of obedience and devotion that you've always shown, no matter what they are, or you can leave forever.”
Amanda was overwhelmed. This was it, this was what she had always wanted. The love of her life, the man she devoted the last twelve years to loving and serving and pleasing was going to abolish her freedom, to make her a creature of consummate servitude. She could finally become the slave she knew she was meant to be.
And she was terrified.
“Sir...” She was choking back tears.
“Think very carefully about it.” Tom was quiet, and calm, but his stare was cold and sure.
“Think very carefully Amanda. If the answer is no, then it's no. We go right back to the way we were, but that's the end of the line. We'll never go any further. We'll play out the rest of our game by the rules we already have.”
Amanda knew she should say no. What they had was good. It satisfied ninety-nine percent of her urges and desires, and it was so happy and full of love, and it could go on forever until they grew old and died together. The alternative was an insane gamble that could tear them apart. There was no need to roll the dice!
“BUT,” Tom continued. “If you say yes, we start this very moment. This years negotiation is canceled. I will start adding rules and if you question a single one of them I will send you away. Do you understand?”
Amanda managed a meek nod,
“Let me hear you.”
“I understand, Sir.” She whispered.
“Then what's your answer?”
Amanda's whole body ached, her neck strained against the noose, her mind was racing in a million directions at once, and she couldn't isolate a single rational thought in the stream of emotions she was feeling. She had no idea what to do. She closed her eyes, and wept, and before long all she could feel was a fiery need in her loins.
“Say yes.” Tom whispered.
“YES!” Amanda screamed, and she held her cuffed hands forward to touch him, but he was out of reach.
* * *
Tom breathed a sigh of relief, and sat back down on the bed.
Amanda was confused. This was a joyous moment. Why wasn't he whisking her up into his arms and showering her with kisses? Why weren't they making scorching, violent love right at this instant?
Tom got up and walked to the other room, and returned a minute with another woman. A girl, really, probably college age, with pale freckled skin, wavy red hair, and cold blue eyes. She was quite possibly the most beautiful girl Amanda had ever seen. Tom sat back on the bed and the girl stood next to him. He ran his hand slowly up her thigh and in between her legs, cupping her ass, slipping in and out of her. She hiked up her dress. No, it was Amanda's dress she was wearing.
Tom stood up, walked towards Amanda and slipped his wet fingers into her mouth. The girl's juices tasted wonderful. Amanda was dumbstruck.
“Amanda, this is Hannah.” Tom said. “Hannah, this is Amanda.”
Hannah looked up at Tom.
“She looks really good for forty!” She giggled.
I'm thirty-four! Amanda wanted to scream. Tears were streaming down her face now.
“So, here's the deal, Amanda.” Tom cut in. “You're basically... a dog, now. That means you eat whatever scraps the people give you, you sleep wherever we put your mat, you piss wherever the newspaper is, you play when we want you to play, and you stay chained up when we want you chained up. Do you understand?”
“No more words. Dogs don't talk. And besides, you gave up 'no', so from now on you will answer direct questions with a nod to let me know you heard me, and when you receive an order you'll just do it. Understand?”
“Good. Now it's very important that you understand this. That's a vow of silence you just took. If I hear any people sounds out of you, you're going to regret it, understand?”
Amanda nodded again, face wet with tears.
“Hannah and I are going to dinner to celebrate your decision. We'll be back in a few hours. There'd better not be any piss on the floor when we get back. Believe me, you'll be licking it all up.”
* * *
When Tom and Hannah came back three hours later, Amanda was still choking back sobs. Hannah scurried past her into the kitchen to put away the leftovers, seeming not to even notice that she was there. Tom followed her in and they emerged together a moment later in a roar of laughter, Tom carrying Hannah over his shoulder, and he flung her onto the bed. She scurried to take off the stolen dress, and then she lay there, chest heaving, bare but for a pair of stockings.
Tom crawled over Hannah's prone form, worshiping her curves with his hands, then lunged. He sank his teeth into her right breast and she let out a squeal of mirth. She tried to wriggle away from him, but his hand found her throat and forced her down hard into the blankets. Amanda couldn't believe what she was watching. Tom was reenacting their foreplay, her foreplay, with this stranger.
Then Tom pulled Hannah up off the bed by her hair and spun her around, plunged two fingers into her and lifted her ass in the air. Hannah leaned forward on her elbows and locked eyes with Amanda, the first time she or Tom had acknowledged her since they returned. Tom made no such effort, but Hannah clearly wanted her to see this. Tom knelt behind the girl and undid his fly with one hand. With the other, he grabbed a fistful of her thick red hair and wrenched backward, arching her back and picking her up off her elbows. She kept her eyes locked on Amanda's. Thrust after thrust, Tom crashed into the girl, and she wiggled her slender form up and down and side to side, squeezing and grinding. Finally she had to look away as her eyes rolled back into her head, and her mouth hung open, silent breaths heaving. She collapsed onto the pillows.
Without saying a word, Tom untied Amanda from the ceiling. Her neck was relieved, but very sore, her joints ached, her eyes hurt from crying. She was filthy, she reeked of her own juices, and she had that bastards sex toys invading her, poking and prodding and arousing her despite her misery. She collapsed onto her knees. She never wanted any of this. What had she done to deserve this? Had she angered Tom in some way? She didn't understand. There was no warning that any of this was coming.
“I want to leave.” Amanda said.
Hannah looked up, puzzled. She looked from Tom to Amanda, and back to Tom. Then she got off the bed, and slapped Amanda across the face.
“Dogs don't talk!” She yelled. Amanda was dumbstruck. She began heaving sobs again, though she was out of tears. Tom grabbed Hannah and sat her down on the bed.
“Amanda.” Tom said. “Do you want to leave?” Amanda nodded. Tom got up and opened the door.
“You can go whenever you like.”
Amanda looked at the door, and at Hannah, and at Tom. Where would she go? What would she do? Go back to work? Get a new place? None of it meant anything anymore. Everything she spent all that time seeking was gone. Or maybe it was here. But it wasn't out there. There was nothing left out there.
“Well?” Tom asked. Amanda didn't move. She looked at him, her eyes filled with tears, a last pitiful plea to go back to the way things were before. Tom didn't acknowledge it. He closed the door.
“If you're going to stay,” he said. “You have to apologize to your new mommy.”
Again, Amanda was choking back tears.
“I, I'm sor--”
“Ah ah, not like that.” Tom reminded her coolly. “Not with words. Dogs don't talk.”
Amanda didn't understand. She looked at Tom, then at Hannah. Hannah laid back on the bed and spread her legs, and Amanda could see Tom's seed dripping from her. Tom grabbed and handful of Amanda's hair and guided her gently to the edge of the bed. Hannah took her from him and pressed her face deep into her sex. Amanda knew what she was supposed to do. She was going to clean up every drop.
After a few minutes, Hannah began to wriggle and writhe, and she ground hard against Amanda's jaw.
“Yeah, you want to stay here with mommy don't you?”
Amanda didn't want to stay, she wanted to die. She wanted to disappear forever, but she kept licking.
“You like it here, don't you?!” Hannah screamed. “Prove it! Touch yourself. Come like a horny little bitch in heat!”
She couldn't hold out any longer. Her rational mind was screaming itself hoarse, but her body betrayed her. She reached down and rubbed her filthy slit, and in a matter of seconds she was moaning into Hannah's pussy.
Hannah's orgasm came like a flood into Amanda's mouth, and she threw back her head and laughed.
“That's a good dog!”
* * *
After that first night, Amanda didn't see Tom very much. He would come into the apartment occasionally, but he never stayed long and he didn't pay her much attention. The apartment, and by extension, the dog, were basically Hannah's to play with. She was there most every night, usually after school, and if nothing else she would usually smack Amanda around a little bit, maybe make her lick her toes, sodomize her with a beer bottle. Just stuff to remind her who the boss was. More often than not though, she'd have some guy with her, and it was always the same story. She'd fuck this guy, he'd hit the road, Amanda would clean her up afterwards.
On the weekends though, Hannah would actually have company. She had a lot of hobbies, and anywhere between three and fifteen girls might come back to the apartment with her any given weekend. If they had been out clubbing then they were all drunk and smelled like vodka. Amanda would be responsible for taking their shoes and jackets and coats, and fetching them more drinks or water. In general, she would do this blindfolded for their amusement, and so she'd be guaranteed to fail and they could take turns whipping her. If they'd been at the gym, it was usually just a round of water or iced tea, and then she'd bathe them all. One time Amanda thought she saw Hannah using her tennis racquet, but Hannah swatted her rear with it, and reminded her that dogs don't play tennis, and all of the other girls reminded her too. She never forgot again, but the people kept her blindfolded all the time after that.
Once the hosting services were all done she would usually wait to be called on. Sometimes they'd just station her in the bathroom and make her drink their piss, but invariably one of them would have another use for her mouth, and then the others would get jealous, and before long she'd have eaten every one of them out, front and back. One time she was working on one of the girls and she could have sworn she was tasting Tom, but she couldn't recall exactly. She'd tasted so many different ones since then. Regardless, the weekends were long, and tiring on the jaw, but she was making the girls happy, which made Hannah happy, and that made Tom happy.
When she wasn't in use, she'd be chained up in the laundry room near the newspaper pad, with an old couch cushion to curl up on and a bowl of food. It might have been dog food, or it might have just been really bad chili, but that was what she ate. Most of the time she was filthy, but every two or three weeks they'd drag her into the tub and scrub her down with the coarsest brushes they could find. That kept her nice and raw, and that kept her reactive.
Those first few weeks she cried every night, but around the time the last of her violet nail polish chipped off, she stopped trying to count the time and just lost track. She didn't even think about how long it had been again until one day Hannah came in with snow on her jacket. It couldn't really be that bad, she reasoned, if she was able to just adapt to it like that.
So all her pain and sadness and confusion eventually faded into the past. It wasn't that she didn't feel it, she just had no use for it. She wasn't out in the world where those things matter. She was here. What use does a dog have for regrets? She had chances to leave, but she didn't. She had chosen this. Tom had chosen this for her. It was what he wanted, and she was going to give it to him.