I was Adriana Romero, tough parole officer and ex-cop. I thought I’d seen everything. I had no idea.

My head was pounding; a great throbbing pain spreading from the back of my head. That was the first sensation as I woke. The second was surprise, as I realised I couldn’t move my hand to my head. I couldn’t move at all!

I was awake enough to feel the wooden chair beneath me. My hands were tied by rope to its arms, my legs to its legs, and more ropes chafed my skin around the belly and under the breasts, pinning me to the back of the chair.

What had happened? The last thing I remembered was… Lenora Kelly, the antiquarian, had called me. She was having trouble with an ex-con, Derek Watkins, that had a work placement with her. She was terminating the arrangement and wanted me to escort him from the premises. I’d been looking forward to it.

Derek Watkins. He’d been making a name for himself in the art world, when some of the his forgeries were discovered hanging in a gallery. He tried to plant evidence blaming the woman who ran the place - she’d forced him to do it, threatening to ruin his reputation. Then when that didn’t fly, he claimed it was his wife, now ex-wife, who’d put him to it – she’d forced him to it with her extravagant lifestyle. He was weak. A coward who couldn’t take responsibility for his own actions.

I hated his sort. During our monthly reviews, he’d be sitting there stiffly, trying to control his wandering eyes. I came down on him hard whenever I caught him leering, and he’d learned to try to hide his slimy lechery. I pushed him, sometimes hoping he’d say something and give me an excuse to get physical in a way he definitely wouldn’t like. He was scum.

And so I’d turned up at his work placement, the antique store, and wasn’t remotely prepared for what I found. An old woman tied to a chair, Lenora Kelly on her knees whimpering, and Watkins with a gun on them.

I could imagine Watkins fantasising about having power over women, but I’d never dreamed he’d actually do something about it. He’d whirled on me, and on instinct, I’d fired. And then, darkness.

The ropes chafed my skin? I could feel warm air wafting over my naked body, and between the legs held apart by my bonds. In shock, my eyes shot open, and the light was blinding, the pain in my head stabbing, stabbing.

“Would you like something for the pain?” The voice was male. I felt a chill as I recognised the voice of Derek Watkins.

I looked towards the sound. “What are you doing? Have you gone mad?” I could make out three forms, and slowly they took shape. Watkins was sitting in a simple wooden chair. Sitting on his lap was a blonde schoolgirl, with her arms around his neck and her head lovingly resting against into his shoulder. No, it was Daisy, the antique store’s receptionist. Dressed as a schoolgirl. What madness was this?

And worse, on the floor beside the chair, a busty black woman, kneeling in some kind of black leather getup – spiked collar, chains, the works. Lenora Kelly? The scholar? It couldn’t be!

I must be dreaming.

Watkins stood up, causing Daisy to squeal and giggle as she almost fell. She stood up, brushing down her uniform – I suddenly realised it was exactly the same style as my daughter’s high school uniform. What did that mean?

Watkins came closer and looked me over, and I felt sick. “You’re every bit as lovely as I’d imagined. Not the face, obviously, it’s a little too hard. That can be fixed later. But what a body. Look at those strong thighs. Those abs. And those tits.”

I was too enraged to respond. He looked a little sad. “So many bodybuilders lose the tits. A shame. They lose sight of what’s important.” And then he brightened. “But not you. You kept them. I approve!”

And I was too enraged not to respond. “Untie me! I’ll show you what I’m fucking made of, you pathetic dickless loser!” I had a lot more to say – about his manhood, his morals, his past – but he wasn’t taking the bait.

No, he was smiling. That unsettled me. The kind of man he was, I’d have expected him to lose his temper, to leap over at me and strike me, giving me an opportunity to snap the chair and grab him. The wood of the chair might be too strong, but I’d give it a go. It was a plan. And once free, I’d break him like a twig.

But he was smiling. He was calm, in control. I started to feel frightened.

“You want me to untie you,” he mused, as if actually considering it. He looked to Lenora, the kneeling woman. “Slut, go to her.”

She groaned, “Oh yes, master!” and her eyes seemed to roll back in her head for a moment. Then she rose and strode gracefully towards me in skin-tight boots – little more than latex stockings, really - reaching from thigh to toe, terminating in ridiculous stiletto heels. The corset – PVC, rubber? - she wore was every bit is outlandish, pinching her hips impossibly tight – how could she breath? It made her breasts seem even larger, if that were possible, cradling rather than concealing – lifting them, offering them to the viewer. As if that wasn’t obscene enough, a silver chain dangled from rods piercing her nipples, swaying as she moved. Jesus, what has he done to her? HOW has he done this to her?

Watkins was talking. “You know, you’re completely at the mercy of anyone who might happen along. Sitting there, tied up, completely helpless. In a way, you’re like a baby. The act of untying you, releasing you into the world – if I released you, I’m like the mother teaching you to walk, helping you to face the world. Shaping you…”

I’d wondered if I was dreaming. I realised now that I was wide awake. And he was mad. Completely fucking crazy.

Lenora settled on her knees in directly in front of me, and my stomach twisted as I realised she was starting directly between my artificially parted knees. Her face…

I’d met Lenora a few times, and found her to be friendly, eager to talk about the trinkets in her store and actually able to make it seem interesting. A natural teacher. But I didn’t recognise this woman. Her eyes were wide with lust, her thick lips parted in a pout, her tongue appearing to lick them lasciviously. She looked like her greatest delight would be to dive between my knees.

But, lust aside, she looked… Empty. The intelligent, charming, scholar and teacher – gone.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she?” Watkins was admiring her as she spoke. “My little slut. I much prefer her like this.” She moaned at his words, her entire body trembling in what couldn’t possibly be satisfaction. Could it?

I glared at Watkins. “What have you done to her?”

He laughed, a smug, knowing laugh. “I gave her what she wanted. But enough of her, let’s talk about you. You asked to be untied, didn’t you.” He turned to the kneeling thing that used to be Lenora. “Slut. Untie her.”

He couldn’t be serious. He had to know what I’d do to him once I was freed. It had to be some kind of trick.

But Lenora leant forward and started to unfasten the ropes about my shins. I felt dizzy. The world seemed to spin for a moment. Stay calm, I told myself. Don’t lose it.

The ropes fell from my legs and Lenora looked up at me, placing a hand on each of my knees. There was something different about her, something I hadn’t noticed earlier. I stopped wondering about that when she looked toward the join of my thighs…

I found myself breathing heavily, still dizzy. The churning in my stomach sank lower, to the place she was looking. I could close my legs now. The warm hands resting gently on my knees wouldn’t stop me. I could close my weak, trembling legs, and stop her looking.

But if I did that, she’d stop looking.

Before, she’d looked empty. Now, she looked fulfilled, complete, and I was the empty one. An empty, aching void.

Her wet, fleshy tongue was licking her full, fleshy lips. What was she going to do? Was she slowly dipping her head towards my thighs, my pussy? Would her tongue fill my need?

I screamed inside and clamped my legs together, trying to deny the heat, the surge of pleasure as hot wet flesh pressed against the chair. I glared at Derek. “What have you done to me? You drugged me – and them! Is that it?”

He laughed gently. “I’m only giving you what you want.” He was looking at my chest, watching the rise and fall of my swollen breasts, admiring my achingly erect nipples.

Lenora was moving again, rising to her feet. She tottered for a moment on her heels, and I thought she was going to fall forward, and land with her tits pressed into my face. No, please no, I thought as I licked my lips.

Then she was behind me, untying the bonds around my chest. The ropes scratching and tickling, agitating the underside of my breasts. How they itched. I imagined soft black hands reaching around to sooth them, caress them, to rise up and take the nipples…

Hold on! I urged myself. Nearly free! Then I’d wipe that smug smirk from his face, that arrogant leer. He looked so confident, so sure of himself. Strong. In command of the situation. In control.

I groaned, and looked away. Had he drugged me? Why was I horny? Dizzy with lust? What would I really do when I was untied? Could I trust myself? Maybe she shouldn’t untie me. Maybe she should keep me in bondage. Then I wouldn’t have to fight, She could do whatever she wanted to me… “NO!”

I went crazy, struggling at my remaining bonds, kicking the air, screaming incoherently.

The girl in the schoolgirl outfit, Daisy, was suddenly by my side, stroking my face, speaking in a soothing tone, whispering the sorts of nonsensical calming sounds you’d say to a crying baby. I wasn’t going to cry. I wasn’t!

With effort, I managed to settle down, and felt Lenora resume her work at the ropes. I found myself drawn to Daisy’s young, innocent features. I felt grateful, wishing I could hug her soft body to mine, but my arms were still tied. Then I realised where my thoughts were going again, and averted my eyes. I had to hold on!

My hands were free. Instantly, I leapt to me feet and hurtled towards Watkins, before the glint of gunmetal stopped me. He was holding a gun, waving it tauntingly, still smiling. My gun.

I thought about it. Could I reach him before he fired? Probably not, but I had the sudden urge to rush him anyway. Now, while I still can! But I dismissed the thought. Being reckless is what gets you killed in situations like this.

Have I ever been in a situation like THIS? I almost chuckled at the absurdity of the situation.

He was looking at me, admiring me. And why not? I had a good body. It was mine, I made it. I wasn’t going to hide it from his gaze, to surrender my power to this lecherous weasel.

And I did feel powerful. I’d competed in a few amateur bodybuilding tournaments when younger, and remembered the rush, the enjoyment, that came with an audience’s pleasure, its approval. I’d forgotten how good that felt.

So I made a decision. I strode over to him, slowly, confidently - letting him look. It was exciting, thrilling, sexy. The more he looked, the more he felt I was there for his pleasure, the more distracted he’d be. Then we’d see who really had the power.

As I reached him, Daisy spoke from behind me. “Didn’t she do well, Daddy?”

Watkins looked thoughtful. “You’re right. She deserves a reward.”

Daisy gave a little squeal of pleasure, and I heard movement, rustling behind me. I gulped and turned, fearing what I might see.

Lenora was on her back, and Daisy was on all four legs between Lenora’s raised knees. The licking and obscene wet slurping sounds made it all too clear what she was doing. Lenora’s hands were by her side, her fists clenched, her hips twitching, as she lay with eyes closed, moaning, whispering, “Thank you master thank you master thank you…”

I couldn’t move. I was horrified. The horror of the situation was making it hard to breath. It occurred to me in a flash that the aching emptiness of my pussy had never felt a woman’s tongue. Why was that?

I couldn’t see Daisy’s mouth. I could only imagine what her lips and tongue might be doing to Lenora’s engorged pussy lips, her throbbing clit. I felt my own body throbbing in sympathy, as I considered moving to get a better view.

Daisy’s hands roved up over the Lenora’s body and began to play with her breasts. Tits. Breasts as large and soft as that are Tits. Lenora’s hands twitched by her side, but she did nothing to help. Maybe she’s not allowed?

What would it be like to lie back - your only purpose to feel pleasure, to revel in your lust, to be a plaything, a sexual toy… Is that why they call her Slut? She doesn’t need a name. She’s just a thing. A sexy toy.

And Daisy, kneeling between the slut’s legs, the sight made more obscene by that schoolgirl’s uniform. She could be my daughter, Claudia. I wondered if Claudia ever did this with her girlfriends. I could see it now. They’d be in her bedroom, and I’d enter without knocking, and find Claudio’s head between her friends knees, just like this. I’d have to do something. I’d…

“They’re beautiful like this, aren’t they?” Derek’s voice reminded me where I was. Lord Jesus, what was I thinking!

Derek stepped in beside me, and slid an arm around my waist. I quickly jumped away, disgusted at him and at myself, fighting the urge to lean into him, to relax against his body.

No, I needed to keep away from him. He was doing something to me. I had to keep away. Somewhere he could keep looking at me. So he could enjoy the view. So I could distract him. What could I do to distract him from them? It would have to be extreme…

I could touch myself. I needed to touch myself. I’d use one hand to squeeze my tits, one then the other, while my other hand would slip between my thighs, tease out the clit…

“Would you like to join them?” His question send a surge of fire through my already hot body. Yes! That would distract him!

My eyes were drawn to Daisy’s raised buttocks. I was at the wrong side, I couldn’t see what she wore underneath the skirt. The schoolgirl skirt. My daughter’s skirt…

Mary, mother of God! The thought of my daughter shocked me to my senses, again, and I jerked my hands from my body. This time I wasn’t going to lose control. I whirled on Derek…

He was smiling, that cursed mocking smile. “No,” he said, “I didn’t think you’d go for that.”

What to do, to say? He stood there, so confident. Strong. Powerful. Dominant. I could see the bulging outline at the crotch of his trousers.

I was a woman. Just a woman. A helpless woman in need. In need of his cock.

No, that wasn’t right. I’m strong. He’s the weak one. I tore my eyes from his enticing crotch and saw it. Dangling from his fingers, almost forgotten. The gun. I had to go for it now. Before it was too late. The longer this went on, the weaker I was becoming.

But he’d noticed where I was looking. He was too clever for me.

He raised the gun. “You want this, do you?” His waved it in the air before me, teasing. “Do you really think it’ll help you?”

He seemed to spend a moment, considering. Then held it out to me. “Here, take it - my gift to you.”

Another trick? Was he trying to lure me into leaping for it, so he could shoot me? No, why would he do that? He could have so much more fun with me in other ways. He could kiss me. Maul me with his hands. Fall on me with his body and thrust his mighty cock into my weeping cunt…

“Gah!” I rushed forward and grabbed the gun, my lifeline, and leapt away from him. I clutched it my chest, my salvation, laughing near-hysterically. “I have it now, I have the power! You can’t have me!”

He took a step towards me and I screamed, backing up against the wall, pointing the gun at him. “Don’t come any closer!”

He stood still. “You’re right.” He said. “You have the power. You could shoot me. You could kill them,” he gestured at the two oblivious lovers, lost in their mutual passion.

“I gave you the gun. I gave you that power. The power of life and death. The power to change someone in the greatest possible way, from living to dead. You have to agree, that’s quite a gift.”

Why was he talking? Why was I listening? I couldn’t think. The world was spinning. I was falling. I turned clung to the wall, feeling it’s cold hardness against my body, my thighs, my breasts. I remembered my dreams, my hopes – little things, like owning my own house, watching my daughter’s graduation, giving her away on her wedding day. But these dreams were falling away, fading away…

He was behind me, his arm was going around me, pulling me to him. The spinning slowed, and stopped. I leaned against him. This was where I belonged.

“You put up quite a struggle,” he said. “It was quite a show.”

I had pleased him. I’d been burning before, now I felt molten, and I pressed myself against him. His hardness against my needy cunt. As my hands slipped around his body, I felt it in my hand. Metal.

I broke away from him and looked it. What was this strange thing? A Gun. What was it for? Shooting people. Taking control.

He was looking at me, surprised. Who was he? Derek Watkins. The words felt wrong in my mind. That wasn’t his name. That wasn’t what I should call him.

Again, he seemed pleased. “So strong-willed. Even now, when the battle is won.”

My legs – normally so strong – were like jelly at his approval. “I have the power,” I said through clenched teeth, trying to convince myself.

“I could shoot you!” I almost doubled over at the pain that though gave me, pain that did nothing to diminish the all-consuming heat pulsing from my gaping cunt.

“Yes,” he said, in that marvellously strong voice. “I am in your power. You could command me. You could make me do anything you want. I’d have to do whatever you asked. What a gift THAT would be! What do you want me to do?”

I could make him do things? That felt so wrong. He was so strong and I was so weak. He was MAGNIFICENT and I was nothing. I should be doing things for him!

I couldn’t breathe. I fell to my knees, where I belonged. The gun was so heavy, I couldn’t hold it. It clunked heavily against the floor, my hand trapped beneath it. I looked up at him and groaned. This position felt so natural, so sexy.

How had I thought I could ever fight him? I was as much his prisoner now as when I was tied to the chair. In his power. That thought almost tipped me over. My ecstasy was so close…

He looked down at me, watching curiously. Waiting… I realised what I wanted him to do. Needed him to do.

“Fuck me!” I begged.

For a moment, he looked a little sad. As if mourning the loss of something. I felt a desperate fear he didn’t want me.

And why should he? I’d been a bitch to him. I had to make it up to him. I had to make myself right for him. I shifted position, on all fours, arching my back, lifting my tits to him while pushing my ass out behind me. Showing as much of my body as I could.

I let my face show my need for him, my submission to him. “Please, fuck me! Use me!”

Then he was moving. I was exhilarated as threw me onto my back on the hard floor and covered me with his magnificent body. My hands felt oddly empty as they slipped over his shoulders. Hadn’t I been holding something? Then I felt his skin, his body, and that’s all I wanted to hold, ever again. His thighs were spreading my legs, and I cried out in eagerness. I was nearly complete! He thrust his cock into me, stretching me, stretching – I thought I was going to burst! He was so big! He was all around me. Everywhere. He was my world! He thrust himself into my cunt, my body, my soul, and I screamed out his name. “Master!”

The bed beneath us was fit for a king. No, a god! I lay on the bed beside Him, my head on His chest. I felt blessed, privileged to be here. My body was still glowing from the night’s exertions, my first night of service. The first night of my life.

Daisy lay on His other side, our heads facing each across His chest. She looked so peaceful, still sleeping. She looked innocent, but the things she’d done to me last night were anything but innocent. I trembled with pleasure at the memories.

Slut lay between his legs, her lips touching the shaft of His Cock. I envied her. But she deserved to be his Cockslave more than I did. I thought back, remembering the bitch I’d been to Him before my awakening. Master was so forgiving. I wasn’t worthy of him. He’d been so good to me. The gifts He’d given me…

He’d altered my face, making it softer, more feminine, more beautiful. He’d done very little to my body. True, He’d added a little fat here and there where it was needed. Mostly here, I thought, as I pressed my sensitive breasts into the silk sheets. And here, I thought, clenching the cheeks of my butt.

Oh, and He’d also enhanced the strength of my muscles, without increasing their size. Not to mention the sensitivity of every part of my body, and my capacity for pleasure. And for pain. Mmmm.

Thinking of this, I was tempted to slide my fingers into my always-juicy cunny, but that would be wrong. My pleasure was at His pleasure. I’d just have to let myself simmer until He awoke. If He truly slept.

Yes, such gifts. I needed to thank Him, and to make up for my history of inappropriate behaviour. I knew just what I was going to give Him.

I looked at Daisy. I was sure she’d enjoy a companion, too - someone closer to her own age.

I tried to picture how pleased they would be when I led the gift to them. Claudia. My daughter. What gift could be better than that?

Maybe then… I thought glancing at Slut’s lips on His Cock, maybe then He’ll promote me to Cockslave!