By Kinkabella
Archived Here With Her Kind Permission

Part 24 - The Visitor

"What do you think will happen to Bec?" Tracey asked quietly.

"I honestly don't know," I answered, after it looked like Belinda was going to completely ignore the question.

A long silence.

"I don't know if I can take any more of this," Tracey said. She then curled herself tightly into a fetal position in her bean bag and started to quietly cry.

"Oh look," Belinda said flatly. "There you are again," Belinda said.

She continued to ignore Tracey but pointed a finger up at the television to drawn my attention to the screen. The camera had my face in close-up, but when it zoomed out I recognized the location as the stocks at the back of the Eastlake Courthouse. It felt weird seeing myself like that; like it was not me I was looking. I remembered the face of the man staring happily into the camera too. It was the German television guy from last Saturday and it appeared as if I was about to actually see the report he filmed.

"What's he saying?" Tracey asked. She wiped her teary eyes and leaned up on one elbow to look at the screen.

"I have no idea. I don't speak any German," I replied.

"You better start learning fast then," Belinda said. "He's talking about you."

"He is?"

"Yep."

"What's he saying?"

"You mean you need that translated?"

Belinda gave a wry laugh as the scene quickly cut to a rear-view shot of my ass. A man's hand could be seen; his index finger pointed and hovering close to my fully exposed pussy. There was more talking as his finger traced a line from my dark pink, nervously puckered anus down across the glistening, unfurled pinkness of my pussy. His touch clearly affected me. Each light touch had the effect of making me visibly tremble and my pussy, like the petals of a bright colored sensitive weed, yawn widely as if to anticipate the penetration that followed. His finger dipped in easily and when he withdrew it, he held it up so the camera could capture the shimmer of slick, clear juices covering it right down to his knuckle.

I was perversely fascinated and couldn't take my eyes off the screen. Belinda laughed and mimicked the German who was obviously making crude remarks about the wetness of my pussy.

The door to the room unexpectedly opened and Mr. West leaned his head in to tell me it was time for bed. I was reluctant to leave the room but after seeing what happened to Rebecca for being disobedient, I quickly struggled to my feet and did as I was told.

Mr. West led me into his bedroom and pointed to a mat on the floor at the foot of his bed. It looked to be about two inches thick and made of black leather.

"That is your sleeping area," he said.

I glanced down at it and then back at him. He started to undress as he spoke.

"You will be glad to know that this room is the only room in the house that doesn't have TTC-cam installed in it."

"TTC-cam?" I gave him a quizzical look.

"The Torture Channel ... their cameras?" Mr. West started to spell it out for me. "Those dark glass domes on the ceiling? Ingrid, they have cameras in them and broadcast everything that happens in every room of my house back to The Torture Channel. Everything in every room, except this room. Please pay attention in future."

I nodded even before he finished explaining. Mr. West had removed all his clothes except for his trousers. He unhitched his belt.

Mr. West went on to say, "I wake up at 5:30. I want a blow job on waking. You have an alarm clock, with headphones. (Trousers off) You may set it to any time you want, but just don't forget that if I don't get my morning blow job, you get punished."

I didn't mean to stare but it struck me, after he removed his underwear, that this was the first time in over a week since I had seen a naked man in normal surroundings. My eyes lingered for a moment on his penis.

"See you in the morning," he said, and then he scooped his discarded clothes up in his arms and threw them over near a wicker clothes hamper in the corner of the room,

I almost felt like saying "good night" to him, but that was probably more habit than courtesy. He appeared to have a second thought.

"I have no reason to trust you right now, alone in my sleep."

Mr. West strode nakedly past me and out of the room. I just stood there and wondered whether I should follow or wait where I was. He didn't sound like he was saying anything else, so I waited. He returned a minute or so later with something that looked like a slave collar, but made of some sort of black plastic. Without saying another word, he walked up in front of me and secured it around my neck, just above my other collar.

"You are now a bomb," he said.

I didn't quite catch his meaning. I followed him with my eyes as he moved behind me and removed my handcuffs.

In twelve hours your head will be blown off by a shaped charge made of two-and-a-half grams of C4 plastic explosive ..."

I couldn't believe my ears. The reflection of it in his bedroom mirror appeared to confirm what he was saying. I could see a tiny red light flashing on the collar at the front of my neck.

"I, and only I, know the six digit code to disarm the charge and unlock the collar. The arming unit also has a GPS chip in it. It's currently set for a half mile. If the unit travels more than a half mile from here, it goes off. If you enter a wrong code more than four times, it goes off."

I felt chilled by a rush of dread. My mind was reeling at the thought of what might happen if it went off accidentally in the middle of the night.

"It's amazing what a small micro-processor can be programmed for."

He smiled a kind of proud, slightly boastful smile and then said, "I'll take it off in the morning, after I get my blow job. That should be in roughly seven hours, so you've got lots of time to spare there. Sleep tight."

The sing-song tone in which he said "sleep tight" resounded in my ears as I watched him casually climb into bed and settle himself under a black satin sheet. I stood there for a long moment before gently collapsing down onto my knees and then finally onto my back on the padded leather mat.

The mat turned out to be more comfortable than I was expecting and despite its relatively thin dimensions, it was what Goldilocks might have called "not too hard, and not too soft."

After the light went off, I could see the faint red blinked glow of my collar in the darkness of the ceiling. I watched it for a long time and became mesmerized by it and almost fell asleep, but for a sudden panic about the alarm clock. I rolled over onto my side and fidgeted with the buttons of it in the darkness. There was no way to tell what buttons I was pressing and I dared not disturb Mr. West by asking him to turn on his light again.

"It's just an alarm clock," I mumbled to myself. "You must have done this a million times. Think!"

Eventually I managed to press the right combinations of buttons to illuminate the alarm setting function. The green LED lights scrolled quickly from 00:00 to 05:10, and I carefully stepped them through the remain ten minutes until it was set for 05:20. Relief! The headphones he had spoken on weren't at all small and unobtrusive but rather full-sized one with large, cup-sized ear muffs that made sleeping on my side, as was my preference, impossible.

I remained lying on my back and clasped my fingers together on my stomach. A deep slumber felt so close, and the regular pulse of a dim red glow on the ceiling was hypnotic and soothing. But every time I closed my eyes my head was filled with disturbing visual memories of the events earlier in the day. The horror show of the chamber in which so many innocent, young girls were slaughtered. I recalled the way I was able to close out the sounds of their screaming by humming a favorite tune and soon the dulcet tones of Maria Muldaur were again wafting soothingly inside my head.

After a while, I was able to close my eyes properly. In the pitch black darkness of my mind's eye, I saw a faint glow of something far off in an imaginary distance. It was just the smallest of glows, crescent shaped as the newest of moons might be in a clear night sky. The harbinger of good luck, I thought, provided I bow to it three times - a superstition I had grown up with and one which I still practiced out of habit. If it had been real, I would have completed my bows in quick succession, but in my dream, I couldn't return to an upright position after the first bow.

I remained bent over like that for a long while as if held down by an invisible force. Hands, large and strong, pressed my shoulders and forced me to stay in position. Something had hold of my hands and my arms were being lifted skyward. I glanced up for my lucky moon and prayed it didn't climb too high in the night before I had completed my ritual bows to it, but it continued to rise above my mental horizon in the far off distance. As the crescent of light grew broader, a figure seemed to appear in front of it. It was an indistinct shape at first, but as the light behind it made more and more of a silhouette of it, its form sharpened. A human form, but still unclear.

An indiscernible tingle touched me intimately. I felt surrounded by something; by people. Lots of people. Their voices grew loud in my ears, but their language was foreign; alien. The tingle spread through me, warming me and arousing me. It felt centered between my legs, as if radiating out from there. The babble of voices continued while the invisible touch began to manifest in ways that seemed full of body and real. It began to penetrate me and pressed firmly inside me, entering through my vagina and then swelling inside me. It's size grew as it gently moved deeper.

The crescent of my imagined moon continued to rise, filling my darkness with soft, blue light. The figure on the horizon was approaching; moving toward me. Its shape shifted across the dreamy flat landscape with the moon's light following. It seemed to move in a stealthy way, as if to avoid any sort of identification. The shadowy haze of its shape came more into focus, but darkness shaded its face.

Inside me, the firm object began to fuck me. Slowly at first, but with a rhythm that was in step with the approaching wraith of my dream. I kept trying to see its face. It now clearly had the body of a man, but his identity remained illusive. The fucking continued. The animated voices around me suddenly stopped and I could only hear the beating of my heart in their place. I could hear myself moaning softly. An unfamiliar sound filled with urgency. The visitor to my imagination continued to stalk me, moving closer and closer. His approach excited me; tantalized me. I called out to him to hurry. The intensity of the fucking grew strong.

The sound of the voices resumed. It was a low, muffled chanting sound at first, but it too quickly aligned itself with the rhythm of the fucking in my pussy. It felt so real. I desperately wanted to put my hands between my legs, but I feared I would find something there and that I would frighten it away. The visitor was now very near. I could feel him so close. So close, but still just blackness where the features of his face should be. I stared into that blackness and called out. I felt a distinct sensation of hands on me; hands holding my wrists tightly and forcing them up behind my back. Hands on my ankles, pulling my legs apart. Hands all over me, mauling my breasts and nipples.

"Oh god! Ooooooh GOD!" I called out in the night. A profoundly powerful orgasm tore through every nerve ending in my body and the darkness of my imagination flashed brightly with pinpoint colored lights from a billion stars. A whole galaxy of pleasure, pin-wheeling and tumbling around me. And then, it stopped. A dense blackness blanketed everything and my ears echoed with emptiness. It remained this way for what felt like an eternity and then some and then, a sound. A distant sound penetrated the darkness and pulsed like a auditory beacon. It chirped and chirped, growing louder and louder; demanding attention.

I concentrated on it and tried to focus on its source. It sounded so far off, beyond the horizon over which my crescent moon had risen. A far off place way outside me and yet, it sounded immediate and close.

The realization my alarm was beeping was like a thunderclap that woke me instantly. Suddenly wide awake, I took a moment to remember where I was. "Mr. West!" a voice in my head screamed. "Mr. West!"

My hands immediately rushed from between my thighs and flailed in the darkness in search of the alarm clock. Its green digits glowed brightly with the time - 05:25. I slapped the top of the clock and the alarm went instantly quiet.

It was still relatively dark in Mr. West's room, but I could still see his slumbering form on his bed. A lingering memory of my dream hung in my thoughts as I pressed my hands up under the satin sheet and crawled in search of his cock. I approached from the side and cautiously reached out for him. He stirred slightly when my hands first touched his thigh, but he didn't move in any way to shift away from me.

The satin sheets felt so cool and smooth on my bare flesh as I crawled up between them. I had found his cock with my hands and inched myself toward it, like the visitor in my dream had approached me. I could feel it stir slightly to life. I could smell him close; a dusky odor that drew me to him. I brought my lips close to my hands and used the tip of my tongue as a sensor to locate the exact position of his cock's head. It felt warm in my mouth, and pleasant to taste. I sighed softly and gently squeezed the flaccid flesh between my tongue and palate, exploring the underside of it with the broad, flat part of my tongue.

His stiffness wasn't immediate, but it did come quickly. Each time I bobbed my head on the end of his cock, it felt slightly firmer in my hands and mouth. I sucked and swallowed saliva that formed in my mouth around it. Harder and harder it got, until at last, it felt almost fully erect. I masturbated it and mouthed his solid shaft affectionately, moaning some encouragement to arouse itself even more. I contemplated the sensations of it in my mouth. Its head was large and solid and yet, there was an outer softness to it at the same time. A spongy shell around an iron-like rod.

It was clearly apparent to me that Mr. West's cock was awake, but there was not indication my 'alarm' was waking the rest of him. I threw back the sheet and glanced up at his face; serene and peaceful, but not showing any signs of being awake. I renewed my sucking and bobbed my head enthusiastically in an effort to get his attention. I even started humming. It wasn't any specific tune, but more a light sound to cause a gently vibrating sensation in my mouth which I could than transmit through his cock and hopefully up into his sleeping thoughts.

A sudden and unexpected slap on the back of my head.

I was startled for a moment and then felt his hands on my head. He held it firmly and began thrusting his cock hard up into my mouth. I moaned and gripped large handfuls of slippery sheets as he vigorously fucked my face until eventually, after a small, tester-sized squirt of his jism into the back of my throat, his cock blasted a geyser of cum into my mouth. I gulped and swallowed and could feel the muscles in my throat masticating it to help in the swallowing.

I sensed he was close to finishing. In the other times previous when I had sucked Mr. West's cock, I was surprised by the full-bodied consistency of his cum, but it was nothing compared to what it felt like this morning. Quite clearly, after a good night's sleep, his balls had the opportunity to manufacture what could almost be called a meal for me. His hands released their pressure on my head and I glanced up to see if I had pleased him.

"OK, that will work ... I'll let you live."

I felt stunned by the thought he might have killed me if I hadn't pleased him.

"Joke, for crying out loud. I really don't just randomly snuff slaves. Let me shut off your collar," he laughed.

I could still feel small lumps of his cum sliding down my throat when I swallowed; the taste still strong in my mouth; the aroma of it in my nose and even feeling like it had seeped somewhere up behind my eyeballs. I watched silently as his index finger pecked at several buttons on a remote control unit and the collar clicked open and fell away from my neck. I managed to catch it clumsily in my hands down around my stomach and was afraid if it fell on the floor, it might explode. The mere sight of it scared the life out of me and I didn't even want to touch it with my hands.

"Hey, get to love that thing," he said. "That's what's going to keep you from being chained up for the rest of your life. Plus it gives you a chance at having a life outside of being a fuck toy. If everything goes well, you might even be able to go to your Country Club and play tennis again."

Ah, tennis. That whole world now seemed light years away.

"For what it's worth, I called them," Mr. West said. "Enslavement doesn't end your membership there. Seems a couple dozen or so of the members have secretly enslaved their wives already. It appears that one of the tax lawyers has found some sort of major loophole that gets triggered if a trust fund person gets enslaved. I'll bet at least one of your tennis playing friends is really a slave. That might explain all those bits in the National Confessor story ..."

He continued to talk but my brain was still trying to process the thought that any of my tennis playing friends might already be enslaved. It hardly seemed possible. I quickly shook the thought from my head and tried to keep up with what Mr. West was saying.

"...that talked about things that happened at the country club. They do happen, just not to you. If you read it carefully, it doesn't say you play sex games, just games. I've been to country club parties, of course you play games. Bridge, canasta, maybe even black jack or poker, but they say "Society Slut" Not "Ingrid" when they talk about the sex games."

"That's right!" I said to myself.

"Hmm... You know some of those folks. Look into who found the loophole and arrange a meeting with me, could be something that will help replace the 25% drop in business I've had due to the ass wipes in Public Slave Office."

My mind went blank when I tried to think of how I could possibly look into anything, given my current situation.

"The money from this reality show is going to help, but they could cancel the show at any time, and I'd like to have a strong business plan to back it up with. Speaking of business, go clean yourself up and meet me in the office in ten minutes or so. Use the bathroom in the hall by the slaves room. Turn on the lights in their room as you go by, would you?"

I nodded. "Yes, Mr. West."