Fan Fiction
Contents - [Prologue|Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|Chapter 6|Chapter 7|Chapter 8|Chapter 9|Chapter 10|Chapter 11|Ending #1|Ending #2|Ending #3|Ending #4]
Stuff in this chapter: Mdom/F, bnd, f/o, enema, shave, trn
She woke up feeling even more dizzy than she had before, and the tips of her fingers and toes tingled slightly. She found that she was sitting in a chair, fully clothed once again, and her legs were tied to the chair while her arms were tied behind her back to the back of the chair. Oh well. At least the gag and blindfold were gone.
A man sat on a stool in front of her, wearing a black suit. "Glad you're awake," he said. It was Miller. "Sorry if you're feeling any ... ill effects from having a Sleep spell used on you several times in a row, but it really was necessary."
Dizzy blushed, and looked away from him. The fact that she appeared to be in a bare white room with walls, floor, and ceiling made of metal wasn't much of an improvement, but she gave them the positive attribute of not being Elias Miller.
Miller grinned as he watched her reaction, though he probably would have no matter how she reacted. "Now, you're probably going to be gagged most of the time from now on, and when you're not, you're most likely going to be a bit busy with other things, so if there's anything you want to say, or ask, this could be your last chance."
Dizzy hesitated a moment, and then bit her lip. "Why?" she whimpered.
Miller nodded. "I was going to tell you anyway. Three reasons." He stood up, walking towards Dizzy, and she saw that he had a ... circlet of some sort in one hand. It appeared to be made of metal covered by black rubber or latex or something like that; actually, it looked like two circlets, connected by a joint and with a D-ring of some sort halfway along each. "The first is the question of control. That Gear, Justice, demonstrated that if a Command Gear didn't want to obey humans, the humans really didn't have a say in things. And if we can utterly control you, a half-Gear, with all the abilities of a Gear and none of the human-imposed controls that there were on Command Gears, well ..." He grinned. "We could get control of any other Gears that came by. We could even start making Gears again."
Dizzy tried to turn her head to follow his movements, then noticed that there was a large mirror on the opposite wall, in which she could clearly track Miller's movements whilst looking straight ahead. She also realized that there was a red band of some sort of ribbon around her neck, with some strange designs on it.
Miller began to stroke her hair. "The second," he said, "is, well, I was issued a challenge and a large amount of money to do this, and I felt no inclination to turn down either." He placed the circlet around her neck. "The third is that I really adore seeing cute girls tied up — and you're probably the cutest of them all."
The two halves snapped together, and Dizzy realized it was a collar of some sort. There was a small hum, and a tingling sensation of magic — and then the joint and the seam between the two halves vanished, replaced by two more D-rings.
"There," said Miller. "You are now officially my property — or to be precise, that of my branch of the organization I am part of. Which, in the end, amounts to the same thing. Now, that collar won't come ever come off — not unless magic is used, or your head comes off first. It's time for you to be processed."
Dizzy felt tears welling up in her eyes, and now burst into tears as the full weight of her new destiny hit her. She was scarcely aware of Miller stroking her hair and her shoulder, murmuring words in a comforting tone of voice, telling her that the less she resisted, the more pleasure she would feel ...
Miller sighed, and then put a set of cuffs on her wrists and another on her ankles, before undoing the ropes that held her to the chair. He opened the mirror, revealing a relatively dark hallway, and said, "She's ready."
A balding man in a lab coat and scrubs entered. "Has the seal held?" he asked, regarding Dizzy.
Miller nodded. "If it had even slipped, Dr. Krause, you might've be cleaning me off the walls and floor by now," he said. "Just don't do any damage to the ribbon around her neck that's under her collar."
"I know, Mr. Miller," said Dr. Krause, in the mildly annoyed voice of someone who doesn't like having something explained to them that they designed themselves.
"Just checking," said Miller. "Now ... process her."
Dr. Krause nodded, and he and two lab assistants lifted up Dizzy's prone form and carried her out of the room. Dizzy whimpered and squirmed, struggling in their grip as her current general situation became overshadowed by what was actually happening at that instant. They dropped her facedown heavily on a gurney, which they then began quickly wheeling down the hall.
They suddenly came to a stop, lifted her forcefully off the gurney, then carried her into a side room. The doctors then removed her bonds and stripped her nude — holding her as still as they could amid her struggles — and then carried her over to what was either a large sink or a small bathtub; it had an odd-looking pole at each corner. Dr. Krause turned the water on, spraying her, and they began cleaning every inch of her body. It seemed that at least five sponges were touching her at any given moment, and they soaped her up thoroughly.
Then someone ran a sponge between her legs. She yelped as it rubbed over her sex, and tried to struggle, but someone had anticipated this, and her wrists and ankles were cuffed to the four poles, leaving her suspended face-up and spread-eagle over the sink. Whoever it was began scrubbing her sex in earnest, while two others began lathering and scrubbing her breasts and Dr. Krause began lavishing attention on her tail.
Dizzy yelped and struggled. "L ... let me go!" she gasped, but they ignored her, and if anything increased their speed and force. She tried to resist the sensations of arousal building up within her, but it was too much. Her mounting terror was slowly being melted away by pleasure, her struggles reduced to merely squirms of reaction, her whimpers becoming moans. Finally, she came with a yelp, a shudder of pleasure running through her body as her juices splashed out of her sex, mingling with the water ...
"Hmm ... we'll have to clean that area again," said Dr. Krause neutrally, and the lab assistant began scrubbing her pussy again. Dizzy shuddered, moaning loudly, but the assistant stopped before the stimulation actually got anywhere.
They then untied her, turned her over, and re-tied her, so that she was now in the same position, except facedown. They then began lathering her hair and wings with shampoo. Dizzy shuddered and squirmed, whimpering softly; the sensations somehow felt strangely erotic. It certainly felt sensual when someone turned a warm shower on her, rinsing the soap and shampoo away from her.
Then she felt something cold and metal poking at her anus. "W-what?? Hey, stop!" she yelped, and tried to struggle again, but Dr. Krause managed to press the enema syringe into her. Dizzy shuddered and moaned as a warm liquid began filling up her rear. "Mou ... p-please stop ..." she whimpered. Instead, someone strapped a gag to her face.
Just then, Miller stepped into the room. "How are we doing?" he asked politely, as if the sight of a girl with wings and a tail tied spread-eagled to a sink and being given an enema were the most commonplace thing in the world.
"It'll be, er, another few minutes," said a nondescript lab assistant in the harried tone of someone who'd been under the impression that the boss wouldn't even see anything except the results. Dizzy squeaked in protest through her gag.
"Just checking," said Miller with a nod, and left again. There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone who was technically human.
"Right!" said Dr. Krause. "This should be enough ..." He closed the valve on the syringe, let the liquid simmer inside Dizzy for a moment, and then pulled it loose, letting the liquid stream out of her, before wiping her rear clean with a paper towel. They undid her bonds and gave her a quick, vigorous toweling off, before a sort of collar was placed at the base of her tail, which her wrists and ankles were then cuffed to. One of the lab assistants began putting her ribbons back in her hair, while someone else tied the other one around her tail and put her shoes and socks back on. Dr. Krause, almost ceremonially, placed a blindfold around her face, cutting off her vision. She was then placed back on the gurney in a kneeling position, and wheeled out of the room, wearing nothing except the blindfold, the gag, her ribbons, and her shoes and socks.
After several moments of disorienting travel, they came to an abrupt halt. A door opened, and then ...
"Excellent timing," said Miller's voice. "Did you bring —"
"Here," said Dr. Krause. There was the sound of something heavy but cloth changing hands.
"Ah, thank you," said Miller, and Dizzy felt herself being lifted up and carried into the room. The door closed, and then Miller took off her blindfold. These were obviously his living quarters; they'd clearly been designed with comfort in mind in general, and that of Miller in particular.
Miller carried her towards the bathroom. "Dr. Everet Krause is a genius when it comes to magic and even black technology," he remarked, "but he lacks self-confidence of his own work. I mean, yes, he personally designed the wards which lower your strength to that of an ordinary human, but," and he sighed. "He thinks that he needs to have you constantly tied up, even with him and five other scientists manhandling you." He grinned, and ran a hand through her hair. "I think you look cute like this, though."
He positioned her so that she was sitting with her spread legs above the sink, then freed her legs from her tail and attatched them to a set of stirrups beneath the sink. "Anyway," he said, reaching into a cabinet, "he had this whole idea about sealing you with tape, but I vetoed that." He showed her that he now had a can of shaving cream in one hand, and a razor blade in the other. "I wanted to do this myself."
Dizzy squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering softly as he lathered the front of her groin with shaving cream. "Hold still," he murmured. "I don't want to cut you ..." He carefully ran the razor along her front, shaving away the blue patch of pubic hair above her sex. Dizzy whimpered, and it took all her control not to flinch as it slowly scraped across her pussylips.
It took only a few moments, and then her sex was as bare as the day she was born. "There," said Miller. "And now, of course, for your pleasure." He set aside the razor and the shaving cream, then reached up to tweak one of Dizzy's nipples. She yelped and shuddered.
"I know that this will take a while," said Miller, "but eventually, you'll look forward to times like this." He pressed one finger into her sex, curling it up, and used his thumb to rub at her clit. "Times when you can forget how unwilling you are, or how bound you are, and simply ... enjoy your pleasure."
Dizzy moaned, a tremor running through her. She didn't want to be used like this, as if she was just a toy, or a lab animal. She didn't want to be tied up, she wanted to escape, to be free. It was so humiliating just being fingered like that, by someone who didn't even care if she was willing or not. Even if it did feel good, a little ...
That last part snuck in along with the rest of her resistant thoughts, and as Miller added a second finger and began rubbing her clit harder, her defenses began to weaken from within. It did feel good — Miller was definitely skilled at giving pleasure. And it was turning her on, she had to admit — even if it was only to herself, and not to anyone else. Which she was admitting to herself ... it did feel so good ...
She shuddered and moaned, squirming and shuddering, her legs twitching slightly as Miller added a third finger. She was dimly aware that he'd put a cup of some sort beneath her, but she was distracted. There was a tingling in her fingers and toes, and it almost seemed as if there was a white tint to her sight. Finally, Miller found her G-spot and rubbed against it, and Dizzy squealed through her gag, her body spasming and shuddering, immense pleasure running through her like a tsunami.
Miller moved the cup out from under her, then walked away. After a moment, he returned, and recuffed Dizzy's ankles to the collar around her tail. "Dinner's ready," he said calmly as he picked her up.