Election Special: The Taking of Sandra Bellingham

[BadForm]

Only in America. Or so they said, although within months the UK would follow suit each step of the way just like the puppy bitch they’d become for America. Then between the power of the pair of them, not to mention the incredible economic boost they demonstrated, they convinced the rest of the UN P5 to adopt a similar stance. From there, the world was persuaded of its merit. What am I talking about? Forgive me, sometimes I get lost in histories and forget to be clear. I’m talking about the U.S. Empowerment Act of 2010.

It began with a number of minor initiatives aimed at improving funding, increasing security and curbing crime. The first action was the legalization of government-sponsored “termination” and “extended interrogation rights” in matters of national security. The next, under a different president, was the legalization of most street drugs, begging, prostitution and other “victimless crimes”. These now legal activities were taxed at rates similar to tobacco and alcohol, raising government income considerably and allowing for increased expenditure to benefit the poor. By 2009, the President successfully argued that “As we will always have crime, it might as well be organized crime taxed by the government and policed by those with an interest in maintaining control over unlicensed crime – the crime syndicates themselves.” Given the ability of the government to have anyone eliminated on grounds of national security, this was not the free handout to criminals that it seemed. Soon, major gangs, families and other syndicates coalesced into a single force to police and punish unlicensed crime. With the passage of the Empowerment act, this force was incorporated into the government as a department known as the Subdivision on Immorality Control (SIC). There was no crime that was unsupervised by SIC after that, and its Operatives the SICOs became some of the most powerful people in the land.

Of course, some saw the growth of drug use, theft, assassination, torture and slavery as an infringement on public rights. By the election of 2012 it was no longer Democrat against Republican but the Freedom Party against the Patriot Party. And that’s where I came in. Sandra Bellingham of the Freedom Party had started to take a narrow lead in the polls following the execution of singer Hermione Stratus on national television. The head of the Department on Human Trades had tried to warn President Thurman that legalizing the televising of torture shows was something the public was unready for, despite the pressure from the Reality TV Lobby. He hadn’t listened and Hermione had been the star of the first Star Snuff show. Bellingham’s stance on a restoration of traditional values gained a certain appeal across the nation. I got a call from my boss while relaxing in my office one day.

“Davey here,” I said. “How can I help you, Commissioner Peters?”

“Mr. Sweet, I have received instruction from the Director that we are to arrest Ms. Bellingham for crimes against the Human Trades Act and the Capital Punishment Act.”


I almost coked on that one. There was no way in hell Bellingham had committed an act of slavery, let alone assassination. This was simply a way of having her disposed of and her party both disrupted and discredited to ease the way to Thurman’s reelection.

“Hmmm… and is there evidence of this?”

“Of course, Mr. Sweet. If you turn on the news you will see clear proof of those crimes now.”

I hit the remote and watched as the newscaster’s voice dubbed over an image of a lookalike of Sandra Bellingham standing before a guillotine in which her secretary was fastened, pleading for her life. As the blade fell to silence her the newscaster announced that a warrant had been issued for her arrest.

“Then I assume you need me to make the arrest?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid that rather than face justice, Ms. Bellinham has chosen to flee. That makes this a Capture or Kill warrant, Mr. Sweet. I trust that you will find her and be able to execute the warrant quickly? The public should not be made to wait for a criminal such as this to be brought to justice.”

“Certainly, Director,” I said with a smile. My desire for Ms. Bellingham was well known. My twisted sense of ‘fun’ likewise. This was not even truly a job, but a reward for the work I’d previously done. Ms. Bellingham and I were going to enjoy myself.

 

[Britwitch]

It was beyond a nightmare. Beyond a prank or a joke. Someone had died and I was being held accountable. Anyone could see the woman who had been shown on the televisions of the nation was not me, but the press and the cameraman had done their less than admirable job perfectly, the picture quality had been lowered and the focus was on my poor secretary, my ex-secretary, in the background. I had packed as soon as I had stopped vomiting, after watching someone I knew, someone I had believed to be a friend being killed in such a violent way.

Grabbing a few clothes and a few documents, contacts that I hoped rather than believed might be able to help me out of this horrific situation, I had jumped into my car and hit the highway as soon as I could. Driving in no particular direction, trying to avoid anywhere that looked as if it might be familiar, knowing I would be followed and followed swiftly. Such was the way of modern law and order.

My eyes flicked to the rear view mirror every other second, just waiting to see the flashing blue and red lights behind me that would bring nothing but disaster. I pulled into a motel carpark after god knows how many hours behind the wheel. I twisted my almost waist length brown hair up beneath a baseball cap and pulled a pair of shades over my bright green eyes. I was as well known as any potential candidate and after the news broadcast I didn't doubt there wasn't a person in the country who wouldn't be able to pick me out of a crowd.

I checked in under a fake name, Brenda Slater, inspired by a waitress' name tag in a diner I had stopped into for a coffee a hundred miles back down the highway and a roofing company van that had pulled out of the parking lot as I had pulled in. I paid in cash, no sense hiding out and paying by credit card. The police would be on me before I could even find my way to my room.

Soon enough I was in the less than comfortable motel room, a chair braced against the locked door, just in case. I forced myself to shower, allowing a mild sense of refreshment to wash over me. I carefully combed my hair in front of the mirror, the action calming, almost reassuring. My gently curving figure wrapped in a thin, rough motel towel that barely covered my rounded behind, noticing how already my complexion seemed a little paler, my eyes a little wider.
"What am I going to do...?" I asked the face in the mirror, my voice trembling as I fought against letting myself cry. I would have to be strong if I was going to make it through this.

 

[BadForm]

She was smart, she wouldn't have come so close to election had she been stupid - despite some of the presidents in our unfortunate past. I checked her credit cards and was unsurprised to see they came up unused since the news broadcast. I checked her bank account. There'd been one withdrawal - everything she had below a fifty, the minimum denomination of atms, had been withdrawn from close to her head office. That meant she had money to flee and had left no atm trace behind. I sent a pixel search through the securicam database next. It was something most criminals still didn't know about. Major security firms patched their feeds directly into police systems so that an alert could be given as soon as trouble kicked off. Feed from these cameras dumped into the new 911-stor, which those of us with a license to hunt could search. The system was just over a year old and so far only adopted by the majors: ports and airports, sporting venues, major hotels and the four top gas station chains. Nothing. I licked my lips and grabbed a coffee, this was going to be fun.

What I found an hour later shocked me. How could someone so careful be so stupid? The automated police speed camera system dumped its feed into 911-stor too. That system was even newer than the securicam dump. It would have been meaningless before they'd replaced police manpower with camera footage to cut labor costs. There was no way she could have known about it, but even so, why had she used her own car? She had to know there would be an all-points out on her car. It was almost as though she wanted to be caught.

I dumped the coffee into a travel mug and headed for my black-stripe. I cranked up the license luminosity a notch to indicate to speed cams that I was a hunter on a mission and slapped the laptop connector into the gps system. A few keytaps later and it was leading me in the direction of her last camera sighting. She must have a couple of hours on me at this point, but the last sighting wasn't moving past exit 97 on State 242. Either she had ditched her car, which was unlikely given she hadn't thought to steal a car in the first place, or she was stationary. That was her second mistake.

My fingers drummed over familiar keys, sending out my search algorithm to find likely stopping places. There were two that weren't part of a major hotel network - the first being a campground, the second a seedy little motel. I ruled out the campground. There were too many people who might identify her. That meant she was at the motel.

I punched in the number on the carphone and got the owner.

"Silkstream Motel."

"This is SICO Sweet. I'm on a capture or kill mission. I need to know the name of the woman who checked in an hour or so ago and paid cash."

"Listen, Buddie," he said, "I don't got time to piss around with you Subdiv types."

Great, we had a rebel and he wanted to be a big man.

"Ok, Pal," I said. "You just bought yourself an insurgency charge. That's your piss-pot of a motel gone. Want to try for your life next?"

"No sir."

That was one thing about unrestrained powers. You didn't need to make threats and pretty much everybody responded to realizing you meant business.

"Good. Now, name and room number."

"Brenda Slater, 121b, sir."

"Good man," I said sarcastically. "If she's not there when I arrive then you will be held FULLY accountable for her escape. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes! She just checked in a bit ago so I don't think she's leaving any time soon."

"Let's hope not, huh?"

And with that I flicked off the phone. I'd just passed 84 doing 110, I would be there in minutes.

 

[Britwitch]

Once my hair was free from snarls and knots, I braided it loosely without fixing the end and hung the damp towel up on the rail. I pulled out a shirt from my bag, it had been an ex-lovers but it was soft and a comforting reminder of happier times, it was large and came down to the middle of my thighs, leaving a button or two open at the neck I then raided the room's pitiful minibar, downing a miniature bottle of rum to calm my nerves before sitting on the bed.

I had left my home in a blind panic, no real plan or idea of what I was going to do. What could I do?
I couldn't go anywhere, wouldn't be able to trust anyone. If I went home, went to my family I would be placing them in as much danger as I was in for aiding me. I pushed my bag onto the floor and lay back against the thin pillows, my eyes following the twisting patterns in the old and peeling wallpaper that covered the ceiling.

My only hope would be to head for the border, North, South, it didn't matter. If I could get out of the States then I could at least try and find help. My father was English, that might at least count for something. I could try the British embassy, or something.

I'd need to change my car, sell it, ditch it, try travelling by some other means. I knew it had been stupid to use it so far, the tracking systems that were in use these days I was almost surprised I hadn't been stopped already. I had been lucky and I was not stupid enough to believe that my luck would hold out for much longer.

I let my eyes close for a minute, a yawn leaving my lips without any attempt at stopping it. A couple of hours, I'd let myself sleep for a couple of hours and then I'd hit the road again. I'd paid for the night so the room wouldn't be checked until at least 10am the following day...in case I was being followed more closely than I was aware of. I would hit the road again and then dump the car in the dark somewhere, somewhere out of the way.

Feeling myself growing more tired with each passing second, I set the alarm on my cell phone to wake me in a couple of hours time and, leaving the light on and without even attempting to get between the dubious looking sheets, I allowed my eyes to close and I began to drift into an uneasy dreamless sleep.

 

[BadForm]

I slowed down as I neared the hotel. There was no point in alerting the prey to my arrival with squealing wheels. That only gave them the chance to try and sneak away. I pulled into the parking lot and drew to a halt in front of the entrance. When I got inside I saw the dick behind the counter was barely 5 feet tall.

"Ok, big man," I said. "Recognize the voice? Right. The SICO. Now where is her room?"

He passed me a badly drawn layout plan of the hotel with a trembling hand and talked me through how to get to her room.

"Good to see you have a change of heart." I gave him a warm smile as I took out my cellphone and dialed HQ. "Hopefully you'll be able to recover from the loss of your motel."

"What?" He gasped. "But I just helped you, you can't take it now!"

A voice answered my call and I explained the situation. There was no point in putting a fool in prison, but the motel could be sold for a profit. What was good for the Subdivision was good for the country. If an unhelpful little jerk was made homeless because of it then more the better. Besides, if he turned to begging to survive the government could tax him for that too.

I headed back to my car and slid it into a parking stand, then grabbed one of my air-bombs and a pair of ear mufflers. With another glance at the map I headed in the direction of Bellingham's room. It was dark. The shades were closed, but there was no light at all through the slats. She was probably asleep, or trying to sleep. It wouldn't last long. I fastened the air-bomb to the door handle and wrapped the mufflers around my ear. I flicked the bomb's play button and stepped back as the message began to play.

It was the most pathetic rule to have survived old-style policing. When executing an arrest warrant you could not do anything without first announcing who you were and giving your target chance to surrender. You also weren't meant to use lethal force in public unless you had to. When executing a Capture or Kill warrant you were dealing with someone who was already desparate enough to do just about anything and that made it a fatal mistake to the newbies who didn't find a way around the rule. For me, it was the air-bombs.

"This is SICO Sweet," the minidisk announced loudly. "I am executing a warrant for your arrest, lie down on the floor or suffer the consequences."

The first of its bombs detonated, a miniature termal device capable of blasting open a standard door or window. That blew open the door and detonated the SonarLight device attached. That in turn caused a deafening explosion and blinding flash that would leave anyone without ear and eye protection stunned. I removed my mufflers and adjusted my shades so they allowed a little more light in again, then drew my gun and stepped into the room.

"Hello, Ms. Bellingham," I said to the woman staggering in the room. "And goodnight."

I fired a tranquilizer at her and watched her slump to the floor. What would she think when she woke up back at my apartment?

 

[Britwitch]

"...the floor or suffer the consequences."
The words filtered into my brain in something of a haze as I forced myself out of the deep sleep that I had somehow fallen into, the room coming into hazy focus as my heart began to thunder in my chest, the realisation swiftly dawning that I had been found. I flung myself off of the bed and onto the floor just as the door was blown into the middle of the room.

I clapped my hands over my eyes but the blinding light had already caused stabbing pains in the backs of my eyes and the deafening roar of a second explosion had me half convinced for a few terrifying seconds that my eardrums had shattered.

I staggered to my feet, my eyes watering and ears ringing, my footing unsteady as a result of the pounding in my head. I was vaguely aware of movement in the doorway but my blurry eyes couldn't tell me any more than the fact that someone was there.

I held my hands out, half raising them in the age old motion of surrender when a voice cut through the air, stinging my aching ears and making me wince.
"Hello, Ms. Bellingham...And goodnight."

I heard a gun fire and a cry was caught in my throat as a dull pinch struck my thigh. I tried to call out for help, for a chance to explain, to plead but the blurry images were already swirling around me and my tongue felt heavy and useless.

My knees swiftly buckled, spilling me to the floor. I tried to crawl but my limbs were no longer obeying my wishes. The last thing than ran through my mind before I sank into black silence was a bizarre sense of relief. I wouldn't have to try and run anymore.

 

[BadForm]

Legally I had a choice. I could take her in and hand her over to SIC HQ for processing or I could kill her. Either choice was fine on a Capture and Kill warrant, but nothing else was. I wanted something else. I wanted her as my personal slave. That meant she had to disappear. She was deep under, the tranq wouldn't wear off for hours. Even with what I planned she would not wake up. I drew a different gun, my movie-set meat gun.

"Ms. Sandra Bellingham," I said. "You have committed criminal acts against the Human Trades Act and the Capital Punishment Act. You have also chosen to flee rather than face justice. As granted to me by the Empowerment Act of 2010, I am now executing the Capture or Kill warrant placed on you."

I fired a sterilized meat pellet into her back, being careful to aim for bone. It penetrated her skin and disintegrated, spraying a smal amount of blood from the opening it made. She would hurt like hell when she woke up, and find it hard to move, but otherwise be ok. It looked like a more explosive round had been fired into her, nobody would doubt she was dead. The entire thing had been captured on my belt camera. All it needed now was for the appropriate editing to be done and she would be pronounced dead on national news.

I grabbed her body and flung it over my shoulder then headed back to the car. After depositing her body in the back seat I climbed into the front and sped out of the office. It took too long to get back to my apartment, or at least it did for someone who had lusted after Ms. Bellingham for so long. I was no longer on a warrant, so I had to turn down the license luminosity and obey the laws. Eventually, I reached home and carried her body inside.

I left her handcuffed to a one of several steel rings I had in my special room - the one I "entertained" certain women in. Some would call it a dungeon. I called it a study, that is a study of the human essence. I left her clothed for the time being and dragged the giant movie screen into the room to sit against one wall, hooked up to one of my computers. Then I set to editing the film of her arrest and "execution."

It took a while to get things just as I wanted them, moving voice overs and deleting elements that would detract from the realism of the scene. I heard her beginning to stir as I worked and when I was eventually done heard her begin to tug weakly at the cuff that held her fast.

"Good evening," I said. "You probably can't react to me just now, but I want you to see this."

I clicked the play button on the computer and the screen began to play the edited verion of the events at the motel. It showed a scene outside the door, with my voice announcing my presence. Then it showed me bursting into the room, or at least entering it quickly with the door flying open. In the background it showed Bellingham apparently diving for cover as I announced the nature of her crimes. She hit the deck as if ducking a bullet but my bullet ripped into her back. After that, the camera faded to black.I hit send to send the footage off to HQ.

"I know you can understand me, Sandra. The tranq will have released its grip on your mind by now, if not your body. I am going to uncuff you in a moment. I want you to consider your choices very carefully. Sandra Bellingham is, as far as everyone is concerned, dead - executed rightfully for enslaving and killing her secretary. Your assets will have been frozen. I have confiscated all valuables you were wearing or carrying. You have a choice. You can stay here with me or you may leave. If you leave, you should realize that it is not a good time to even appear to look vaguely like Sandra Bellingham at the moment. There have been reports of two lookalikes being shot and four others raped. You've gained notoriety. Penniless, on the streets, miles from the home that in a few hours won't even be yours, with everyone ready to to take a piece of the action, how long do you think you'll survive? Of course, if you stay with me you'll be accepting what I expect you to be: my slave. If you perform well, then maybe I'll just use you as a sex slave and domestic. Perhaps I'll have you entertain my friends as well. You could live a long and... occassionally not entirely miserable life. Anything is possible. Of course, should you fail to please me at any time, there is always Star Snuff. Oh yes, having learned what you did to your secretary it's back on the air. People have quite given up on the Freedom Party. All in less than a day too, I guess you really didn't have as much support as you thought, huh?"

I moved back to stand by her and unfastened the cuff from the ring. She would be able to move, but would still be lethargic.

"So, what's it going to be?"

 

[Britwitch]

As I began to stir my back erupted with pain, an almost burning, throbbing ache somewhere near my spine. I winced, my limbs heavy and feeling as if they were not quite my own. I opened my eyes and blurrily let them come into focus as I tried in vain to move my arms or my legs. I licked my lips, my tongue feeling as dry as they did as I weakly pulled at my arms, hearing the clinking of metal against metal as I did so.

"Good evening...You probably can't react to me just now, but I want you to see this."
The voice cut through my still aching head, drawing my focusing eyes towards a screen. I watched in mute horror as my own capture and apparent death was played out before me. The pain in my back explained as I watched the voice shoot me there. The image of my lifeless body faded to black and I found myself fighting a wave of nausea.

"I know you can understand me, Sandra. The tranq will have released its grip on your mind by now, if not your body. I am going to uncuff you in a moment. I want you to consider your choices very carefully..."
I listened as he explained my situation, that I was dead to those in the real world, wherever that might be.
"...You have a choice. You can stay here with me or you may leave. If you leave, you should realize that it is not a good time to even appear to look vaguely like Sandra Bellingham at the moment. There have been reports of two lookalikes being shot and four others raped. You've gained notoriety. Penniless, on the streets, miles from the home that in a few hours won't even be yours, with everyone ready to to take a piece of the action, how long do you think you'll survive?..."

My stomach jolted with a need to vomit as the haze of the tranquiliser began to fade and the reality of the situation set in. I could now see that I was handcuffed and held fast to a sturdy looking ring. I was in the clothes I had been wearing when the door to the motel room had disintegrated, a shirt and panties, nothing else, not even shoes upon my feet. The voice was right, whoever he was, how far would I get, looking the way I did, feeling the way I did and being who I was. I was trapped, I knew I had no choice. Not really.

"...Of course, if you stay with me you'll be accepting what I expect you to be: my slave. If you perform well, then maybe I'll just use you as a sex slave and domestic. Perhaps I'll have you entertain my friends as well. You could live a long and... occassionally not entirely miserable life. Anything is possible..."
My jaw tensed as the second option was revealed to me. A life of servitude, of being owned by another human being, a life doing everything I had spent my life trying to prevent happening to others.

"...Of course, should you fail to please me at any time, there is always Star Snuff. Oh yes, having learned what you did to your secretary it's back on the air. People have quite given up on the Freedom Party. All in less than a day too, I guess you really didn't have as much support as you thought, huh?"
My arms dropped as if they were made of lead as the cuff was unfastened from the ring, my wrists still bound together but no longer held fast. I groaned as the blood rushed into the limbs, achingly.

"So, what's it going to be?"
I licked my lips and swallowed noisily, my throat dry and when I spoke my voice was thick with sleep and cracked from the tranquiliser.
"What choice do I have? I cannot leave...wherever this is. My life, my own life, is over, I know it and you know it..." I staggered slightly on my feet as I turned to look at him, for the first time really seeing my captor. Lifting my cuffed wrists slightly towards him. "I'll do as I'm told, but don't expect me to find any enjoyment in anything you make me do...I won't give you the satisfaction..." My words were bold and would be easy to disprove but I couldn't, I wouldn't, simply roll over and surrender to this stranger.

 

[BadForm]

Her words amused me and I told her as much. "Sandra, it seems you misunderstand the meaning of the word 'slave'. Of course you won't enjoy yourself, you're not meant to. From now your only existence is to serve me. If I wish to have you perform oral sex on me you will, not because you want to but because I want you to. If I wish to whip you until you bleed you will stand ready to receive it, not because you want to but because I want you to. Even if I wish to make a pornographic movie featuring the rape of a Sandra Bellingham lookalike then you will BE that lookalike and it doesn't matter that you hate every second of it."

I reached out a hand to caress her breast through her bra. Her nipple responded to my touch, becoming slowly hardened. I was certain it was merely a physical reaction to touch, not a psychological desire to be used. On the other hand, perhaps she was a hidden submissive. If so I would enjoy the wonderful paradox of liberating her by imprisoning her, of strengthening her spirit by removing her power.

"You know, I really should thank you. I've been wanting you for years now, ever since you hit the national scene. If it wasn't for your mistake I would never have had a chance to take you, but you had to run for election didn't you? Did you really believe you live in a democracy? Are you that foolish? Sandra, democracy was killed by the media years ago. People think they are voting on the issues, but the issues only exist in whatever form the media portrays them. So yes, thank you for choosing to become my slave."

I tugged her bra over her firm breasts and bent to suck on one of her nipples. She gasped but didn't move. At least, she remained still until I bit the sensitive bud instead of just sucking it. The suddenness of her pulling away yanked the bud painfully from my mouth. I smiled at her horror and licked my lips in anticipation.

"I've waited a long time for this, Sandra," I said. "I think it's time I sampled my new slave. I'll begin easily. Go down on me, and I'll decide what to do with you based on how good you are. Be good, Sandra. You don't want to disappoint me. You REALLY don't want to disappoint me."

 

[Britwitch]

"Sandra, it seems you misunderstand the meaning of the word 'slave'. Of course you won't enjoy yourself, you're not meant to. From now your only existence is to serve me. If I wish to have you perform oral sex on me you will, not because you want to but because I want you to. If I wish to whip you until you bleed you will stand ready to receive it, not because you want to but because I want you to. Even if I wish to make a pornographic movie featuring the rape of a Sandra Bellingham lookalike then you will BE that lookalike and it doesn't matter that you hate every second of it."

My stomach began to turn over and over with nerves and nausea. His words were deadly serious, of that I was certain. I wanted to tell him he was mad, that he'd never get away with this and a dozen other lines heroines used in the movies when in a situation like this...but this wasn't a movie, this was real and no one would shout 'cut' should things get out of hand, when things got out of hand.

I stood still, somehow conquering the desire to pull away, as his hand reached out to my chest. My nipple responding to his touch, hardening, tingling. It was just physical, nerves and the chill in the room, I kept telling myself as his fingers awoke the small nub of flesh.
"You know, I really should thank you."
My eyes narrowed at his words, my brow creasing slightly in confusion.

"I've been wanting you for years now, ever since you hit the national scene. If it wasn't for your mistake I would never have had a chance to take you, but you had to run for election didn't you?"
I felt my jaw tightening, the thought of this man, this strange frightening man watching me, wanting me for so long strengthening my desire to be sick.

"Did you really believe you live in a democracy? Are you that foolish? Sandra, democracy was killed by the media years ago. People think they are voting on the issues, but the issues only exist in whatever form the media portrays them. So yes, thank you for choosing to become my slave."
Before I could respond his hands pulled apart the shirt, revealing my breasts to his hungry gaze, and his mouth moved to take my nipple between his lips. I heard myself gasp but I bit my tongue over making any other sound. I wouldn't let him know how scared I was, how disgusted I felt at the touch of his warm, wet mouth on my flesh.

I tried to focus my mind on something, anything, that would take me away from this utterly bizarre situation. Stood, half naked in a room with a man suckling at my breast, my hands cuffed and my back aching with pain.
"Hey...!" I yelped, pulling back, instinctively trying to cover my breasts with my arms as his teeth gripped my nipple. Pulling it from his mouth hurt almost as much as his bite had. My eyes were wide and mouth parted in undeniable horror at such behaviour, I looked away as his licked his lips, the act sending a fresh ripple of worry dancing down my spine.

"I've waited a long time for this, Sandra...I think it's time I sampled my new slave. I'll begin easily. Go down on me, and I'll decide what to do with you based on how good you are. Be good, Sandra. You don't want to disappoint me. You REALLY don't want to disappoint me."
I wanted to refuse but his tone made me freeze. Part of me wanted to hope that if I satisfied him with my mouth, he might relent. I knew it was as flase a hope as they came but I had to hold onto it.

"Fine..." I muttered. Tightening my jaw once more, I moved closer and dropped smoothly to my knees before him. My cuffs hands resting in my lap as I looked up almost pouting as I waited for him to undo his pants. Within moments his swollen sex was hovering before my face.

Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath I leant forwards and took him into my mouth, my nose wrinkling and my gag reflex kicking in before his flesh had even touched my tongue. I forced myself to suck him, my lips trembling as they closed around him, my head and mouth beginning to tentatively move back and forth along his length. I wasn't especially proficient, my career hadn't allowed me much time for relationships in recent months...years...

I tried not to think about it. About what I was doing. I continued to suck him, the head of him moving back and forth across my tongue. My eyes tightly shut throughout, I couldn't bear the thought of seeing his reaction.

 

[BadForm]

I sighed and pulled out of her mouth almost immediately. Her teeth grazed against my flesh as I did so. My fantasy had been so much more intense than this reality. I could have had any slave in a dozen prisons suck me better than that, especially after they had been used as the guards' playthings for a while. Yet here was my fantasy woman, my muse every time I hunted any woman down, with her life in my hands performing as though she had been ordered to suckle on a clump of nettles. Perhaps I should make her do so if her mouth was good for nothing but torture.

"Sandra"

She looked up at me, obviously afraid. I felt my annoyance quell just slightly at the beautiful veneer of terror.

"That was pathetic. If I were a white slaver I would not give you a 1 out of 10 on oral skills. I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you have never sucked a man's cock before. Since I like you, I will give you a LITTLE time to learn before I decide that I need to have you practice on the fraternities of... which college was it you went to again? Nevermind, I'm not even sure the frat boys would accept what you just offered."

I grabbed her by the hair and hauled her to her feet, giving her precious little time to adjust her position enough to stop her hair being yanked out by it's roots. Her cry was magnificent and stiffened me still further. I decided to advise her of it.

"Do you know the ONLY thing you have done well so far? You have responded well to pain and terror. Is that what you want, Sandra? I do like you enough that if you want to be a torture slave, there to entertain people by being hurt at slam-balls, then I am willing to make you such. All you need to do is let me know... or continue to perform so poorly as a sex slave."

I decided to let her free for a while, give her space to use her hands if needed. Besides, I liked the illusion of this being her choice that existed when she was not obviously bound. I unfastened the handcuffs and tossed them aside. She seemed surprised, but did not immediately move. I ripped away the few remnants that held her shirt to her body and then snapped the band on her panties, pulling them away too. Naked she looked even more glorious than in the few clothes I had found her wearing. Of course, there were speciality clothes that I felt may make her look even better. They were for later.

"Very well, Sandra. Let me give you another chance. Perhaps I chose the one sexual act that you are bloody useless at. Perhaps I should have let you choose. Do so. Prove to me that I should keep you safe as a mere sex slave. This may be your last chance, so show me what you are BEST at sexually. And please don't be so pathetic this time. I'm already growing bored with you."

 

[Britwitch]

"Sandra"
I shivered as I looked up to meet his gaze, wondering how one word could cause such panic to rise up within me.
"That was pathetic. If I were a white slaver I would not give you a 1 out of 10 on oral skills. I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you have never sucked a man's cock before. Since I like you, I will give you a LITTLE time to learn before I decide that I need to have you practice on the fraternities of... which college was it you went to again? Nevermind, I'm not even sure the frat boys would accept what you just offered."

I cried out as I was yanked unceremoniously to my feet by my hair, my eyes tightly shut and my teeth clenched. Trembling despite my best attempts to prevent it.
"Do you know the ONLY thing you have done well so far? You have responded well to pain and terror. Is that what you want, Sandra? I do like you enough that if you want to be a torture slave, there to entertain people by being hurt at slam-balls, then I am willing to make you such. All you need to do is let me know... or continue to perform so poorly as a sex slave."
"No...no please...please don't..." I heard myself pleading, my imagination running wild at the thought of such a life.

As he freed my wrists I found myself almost staring at him. My fingers rubbing against the mildly chaffed skin instinctively. Another yelp as his hands pulled the remnants of the shirt from my body, swiftly followed by my panties. I moved my arms in a vain attempt to cover up my body.
"Very well, Sandra. Let me give you another chance. Perhaps I chose the one sexual act that you are bloody useless at. Perhaps I should have let you choose. Do so. Prove to me that I should keep you safe as a mere sex slave. This may be your last chance, so show me what you are BEST at sexually. And please don't be so pathetic this time. I'm already growing bored with you."

"I don't...I don't..." I stammered, the fear setting in that his man, who I didn't doubt was capable of killing bigger, stronger people than I, would hurt me if I didn't begin to please him soon. I felt sick, waves of nausea rising up my throat, threatening to overcome me.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I dropped back to my knees before him and tentatively kissed the tip of him. I forced my mind away, away from the stranger before me, away from the pain in my back, away from everything. Remembering my last lover and the last weekend we'd shared. I began to kiss him, up and down the length of him, my eyes closed throughout.

Then I took him between my lips and began to suck, sweeping my tongue over his head again and again. Making my mouth as close and as tight as I could, starting to slightly increase the pressure of my lips around him. My hands rising to tentatively rest upon his thighs as the reassuring voice of my ex filtered through my mind. Telling me how it felt, telling me what he wanted, giving me the guidance and the reassurance that I needed. Soon enough I was lost entirely in my dreamings and let out a soft sigh before I could stop myself.

 

[BadForm]

Did she not realize I could see what she was doing? She was not performing for me, she was performing for a memory. With her eyes closed and a decidedly different attitude to her licking and sucking it was as evident as the her fear had been before. Still, it was a somewhat more pleasant feeling. Not enough to please someone used to trained sex slaves perhaps, but enough to say she might be willing to learn.

I decided to enjoy her actions for now and save up her infraction for later. I was already playing with where she would sleep tonight and how. That would make an excellent time for settling the day's score. However, that did not mean that I was willing to accept her absence from her position. I wanted her to be fully aware of what she was doing and to whom. I broke her spell gently, laying my hands in her hair to stroke softly through the curls.

"Better, Sandra," I said and noticed a change in her movements as soon as she heard my voice. "You might merit a three out of ten so far. I'm going to trust the rest of your body works better than your mouth when I decide to use it, but for now keep going."

I let her settle into her rhythm again and grasped the remote control on the desk next to me. A couple of clicks and I set running the footage from the news showing the mocked up execution of her secretary. How close had they been in reality? I hadn't had time to check, though when two worked as closely as they did all kinds of false rumors circulated. Either way, from a pause in what she was doing I could tell they had at least been friends. I turned the volume up loud enough that she couldn't ignore it no matter which fantasy she tried to visit and selected to play it as a continuous loop.

"Don't stop, Sandra," I said. "This just got interesting."