Vanishing Point Ch. 03 page 4

She missed the door handle on her first attempt; instead leaving a bloody smear down the thigh of one of the nudes etched into the glass on the door. She managed to grab and pull down on the handle on her second attempt, and she fell forward and collapsed onto the thick, lush carpeting of the room on the other side.

She saw a woman's legs as she fell and the room spun around her. The legs were beneath some kind of glass table or desk and they were as far apart as the crimson red dress that encased them permitted. There was a hand there, too. A woman's hand, slowly masturbating the naked pussy that was framed by those gorgeous legs.

She thrust three fingers into her own cunt as she lay there on the floor, moaning softly. The legs disappeared from her view and then reappeared right next to her upturned face as the woman in the red dress knelt next to her. She could smell the woman's cunt, and she could feel the wetness on her fingers as the woman caressed her face.

"You are here now, and everything will be made right," the woman with the legs said softly. "You are here and that is all that matters. Now, give me your hand. No, not that one. The other one. The one in your cunt. You are not permitted to touch yourself there. Not any more. Not without permission."

"Please... oh god, please," she moaned. "I have to. I can't stop. Please!"

The woman pulled her hand from her cunt and placed it on the floor and stood on it with the heel of her shoe pressing painfully into the palm of her hand.

"No. I said 'no' and I meant it. You will learn what it means to be permitted. And you will learn to crave it more than you ever dreamed possible."

"No, please. I'm begging you..."

The woman ground her heel deeper into Jean's hand. "No means no." Then she softened her voice and said gently, "If you promise to not touch yourself, I will get you a nice cup of tea. It will soothe you and relax you. .Do you promise?" She twisted her heel and put all of her weight on her hand, sending little fireballs of pain throughout Jean's body.

"Oh god, yes. I promise. Please."

"That's better." A near-transparent porcelain cup of streaming hot tea appeared as if by magic in the woman's hand. "Here now. Drink it all. We have so much to do. We are going to have to suture your foot before we begin with the rest."

She gulped the scalding liquid down her throat. It was as if she were a dry, desiccated sponge, and brittle from the lack of moisture. "More, please." She took the second cup and drank it down almost as fast as the first. The third cup she took slower, savoring the pungent herbal aroma and the bitter-sweet taste.

The tea was already working its magic. Everything was going to be all right. She was safe now, and she could let go of the life raft she had been clinging to and float away. Floating... To where, she had no idea. The land had disappeared and now even the raft was gone. She was floating now, surrounded by a bevy of magical and beautiful creatures. The surface seemed so very far away now, the diamond prisms of light that speckled its surface getting smaller and smaller...

Rebirth

"Take me to her." The man's voice belonged to someone who always got what he wanted – to three decimal places.

"Yes, Sir. She is over here, in her cage."

The hands that were attached to the woman's quiet, Asian-accented voice pulled back the black canvas that covered the metal cube. "Everything is per your specifications, of course."

"Yes." His one-word answer was a statement of fact, and not of courtesy.

"She has been kept completely shaved, except for her eyebrows, as you requested."

"As I required, you mean."

"Yes, as you required. Please forgive me, Sir."

"And the rest? Show me."

"Yes, Sir." The woman prodded the form in the cage with a stick, using it as a pointer. "Her rings, on her nipples and clit hood, she had from before she was fully taken, as you know. They were added during her second visit, per the normal protocol." The stick pressed against a breast. "We enhanced her breasts, just a half size, as you specified. So they will jut out and enhance the display of her rings. 'Cone-shaped' is what you specified, if I remember correctly."

"Excellent."

"And we welded on her collar and cuffs the first day she was here, when she was taken. She has her silver dragons now, just as she yearned for."

"Yes, it is such a lovely thing to watch, when a new one craves what she has absolutely no comprehension of, or what it means to her."

"Indeed. The burns on her skin from where the metal was welded around her wrists and neck healed well. There are no permanent marks."

"Tell me about her training, then."

"Yes, Sir. She is whipped daily, of course. And flogged. She is also subjected to numerous pain and pleasure exercises. Clothespins, hot wax, electrical stimulation, rope bondage, sensory deprivation, long-duration immobilization, and more. Do you wish to see her complete training schedule, Sir? It is all documented in detail, in her records. And there is a video history as well."

"No, I do not need to see that. Not right away. But tell me, have you begun to re-imprint her, yet?"

"No, we've been awaiting your instructions. Jean Bujold is completely gone, of course. She has no memory of that life at all now. We've kept her talent as a masseuse, as you requested, but nothing other than that still exists for her. Other than that, she is am empty vessel, ready to be imprinted with whoever you desire her to be, for you. The only thing we've done with her mental training is to addict her to orgasms. She can't exist without them now. She can't comprehend it, of course, but she knows as a matter of faith that if she doesn't orgasm, she will die, eventually. Out on her own, 'in the wild' so to speak, she'd last no more than a week before she succumbed."

"And she will never orgasm without permission," he added.

"Oh, god, no! That was burned into her soul right at the beginning. She would rather die than orgasm without permission."

"Well done," the man said, his voice eager with anticipation now.

"Thank you, Sir."

"She marks easily, doesn't she?" he said, as he thrust his hand through the bars to caress the smooth, bald head of the blindfolded and gagged woman who crouched in the cage.

"And she heals quickly, too" the woman's voice added. "The perfect combination. You chose well, Sir."

He smiled at how she reacted to his touch, moving to press her face to the bars as she sought more of his presence. She would be perfect, when she was finished.

"You are mistaken there, Mai Lin," he replied. "I did not choose her. She chose herself. This is what she asked for, and what she told me she desired, from before. This is entirely her doing, and the path she selected for herself. Though of course she has no recollection of that – or anything else. Not any more."

"You mean – she knew, and she asked to be... to be 'erased' like this? I had no idea..."

"Yes, she did. I do not steal souls. I take them only when they are offered to me. But once I take them, I keep them. And I do not let them go. Remove her gag now."

"Certainly, Sir. I must say she is so very lucky, to have found you and to have had her wish granted like this. Others would not be so careful with someone like her."

"Yes, I believe she is lucky – not because of anything I have done, but because she found the key to her disappearance. Not many succeed, who dream of such things." He had his fingers in the caged woman's mouth now. She was sucking on them – fellating them while she used a dildo in her cunt.

"I want her gang-fucked daily now," he added, as he substituted his cock for his fingers, through the bars of the cage. Men and women, in various combinations. Take her to the absolute limit of her endurance. At least four times per day. With whippings in between, of course. Make it completely unpredictable to her, both in timing and method."

"Of course." The woman's voice was husky with emotion. She would be one of them who fucked this incredible creature, and she would relish being able to ravage this ripe, eager body.

"Intimate violence. Random and unpredictable, intimate violence. That is what I want for her. Nothing less. She has the soul of a masochist, and it is our duty to nurture and feed her need for pain, and for being used hard and rough; to the best of our ability."

"I do like your choice of words, Sir. 'Intimate violence' is so exactly correct. It defines all of us, here at Fantasia. It is the light and the flame that we are drawn to, and that we can never leave, once we've found it."

He held the caged woman by her ears and rammed his cock down her throat, nearly suffocating her. But she did not cringe or pull back. She held her position and kept her dildo moving rhythmically in and out of her cunt as she gurgled and sucked. She was close, very close, to the edge.

He pressed his fingers against the base of her neck, cutting off what little airflow made it past the cock that swelled in her throat. "And vary the frequency and the timing of when she is permitted to orgasm, and when she is not. Nothing predictable or routine. And gradually lengthen the interval between her cums. I want each one to be a surprise to her. That will make each one that much more precious and more intense for her. I want her orgasms to be savage and utterly uninhibited and without shame. And whip her while she is in the throes of each one. I want the pain to be as much a part of her cums as the pleasure they bring. Pain and pleasure together, inseparable."

"It shall be as you wish, Sir. She has a great appetite for submission, this one. She will make a fine addition to your collection."

He released his hold on her neck, and smiled as she shuddered and gulped a mouthful of air. She would, indeed, be perfect.

The man pulled his erection out of her mouth and used it to slap her wet cheeks before shoving it back between her lips. She sucked it into her mouth again greedily, hungry for what she hoped would be hers.

The man reached lower through the bars and held her up by her nipples. His cock sprang free from her mouth and he held it, aiming at her forehead. Three strokes with his hand and he spattered her face with his semen, painting a line of it above her eyebrows to drip down over her blindfold and onto her cheeks.

She did not attempt to wipe it away or even to use her tongue to lick up the rivulets that snaked past her gasping lips.

"Very good, my pet. I shall have to give you a special name." He turned to the woman standing next to the cage. "Gag her again. And leave her that way for the rest of the day."

The kneeling woman squirmed and used every bit of body language she could muster to beg for her orgasm, or for permission to taste more of his cum. But her hands never left the dildo she still pumped in and out of her cunt. She opened her mouth to accept the penis gag and then bowed low so it could be strapped around the back of her head.

"I shall return to collect her in another six months. You may begin to let the hair on her head grow now. I want to be able to hold a fistful when I take her away. And I want it to be blonde this time – platinum blonde."

"I'm sure that won't be a problem. Her hair grows as fast as her flesh heals from the whip marks."

"And begin using her here, a little bit. I think she will make a fine receptionist, as well as a masseuse. Get her used to being among the others, and to helping to prepare the new initiates."

"Thank you for that, Sir. I can use her tomorrow morning, at the front desk. Number 153 will be here for her second session. It will be so lovely watching this one – 146 – serving the tea to the new girl for the first time.

Through the Looking Glass

She sat behind a small glass table with her hands folded in her lap, waiting. The babydoll-sized red silk slip-dress clung to her curves and left most of her assflesh in direct, intimate contact with the polished metal seat of her chair. The chair was not what you would call comfortable, but her mind wasn't on the chair. No, it was focused on the vibrator buried deep in her cunt and the penis-shaped plug in her ass and the jagged little bolts of electricity that shot through her when she dragged her long, blood-red fingernail over her very-much-exposed and distended clit. The fearsomely huge silver ring that pierced her there never let her forget its presence or permitted her any cessation of arousal.

She was cresting again, and running full-speed towards that impenetrable wall that she slammed into again and again, in search of the magic key that would let her slip through the mortar between the bricks and burst through to the orgasm that called to her so tantalizingly, from the other side.

She was inches from the wall, hurtling forward at a thousand miles an hour, when a gentle puff of air caressed her face. Diverted from her impending head-on collision with the wall, she pinched her clit until tears welled up from the corners of her eyelids. And then she opened her eyes, and looked up at the woman who stood before her, and smiled.

"Welcome to Fantasia, Melanie Farnsworth," she said in a soft voice. "Please sit down," she added as she gestured towards the sumptuous velvet-draped couches and love seats in the empty room.

"How did you know who I was?" the wild-maned blonde in the wifebeater T-shirt and black and white spandex skirt asked, as she sank into a deeply cushioned, peach-colored love seat.

She smiled again, and wiped her fingers on the glass tabletop in front of her, making a neat series of wet, parallel, lines. "It is ten o'clock and you are here. Who else could you be?" she said quietly. "Please wait here. I will get you some tea." And then, before the shy woman with the frizzy hair could ask another irrelevant question, she disappeared behind the screen to get the tea that the Oriental girl was already preparing.

She had heard the Cleansing Room girl talking about how this one was a nurse in her current incarnation, and about how nice it would be to have a new addition who could add a more intimate medical dimension to the salon's facilities. This Melanie was being taken for precisely that reason.

And today was her second session. Melanie – or 153, to be more precise – was going to receive her rings today. She hoped against hope that she would be permitted to watch as 153's flesh being lanced while she lay strapped to the Smoothing Room's table.

She liked that more than anything else, other than getting to use her hands on a virgin visitor to Fantasia in the Smoothing Room while the initiate was having her body hair ripped off with the wax.

And maybe, if she was good – and fortunate – she would be permitted to orgasm today when 153 was writhing and moaning on the table with the hot metal lances still in her nipple and clit flesh. Those were the best cums, with someone else there to share the pain and the pleasure. When she was lucky enough to be allowed to cum, of course.

How long has it been? Two days? Four?

It seemed like forever, and she was feeling more and more anxious and desperate with every hour. She masturbated constantly when she was awake, keeping herself primed and ready, and on edge and constantly wet and aroused, in the hope that she would be taken and whipped and fucked and allowed to orgasm. And her dreams, god almighty, her dreams were so vivid and sordid and breathtakingly deviant when she was denied her sustenance for so long, like she had been these past uncountable days.

Her skin crawled and itched and her mind kept playing tricks on her when she was kept on the brink for so long. It was pure agony and the cruelest of tortures. But if she had been asked what alternative she might ask for – not that she could have even formulated the idea of being asked anything like that – she would be struck dumb and unable to answer. For there was no alterative or any other – anything.

The Oriental girl handed her the scalding-hot porcelain cup. It was time to deliver the tea. She cradled the delicate vessel in her hands, to allow the throbbing heat to sink into her flesh. It felt so good...

"Here is your tea, Melanie Farnsworth."

The woman named Melanie turned away from the photograph on the wall that had captured her attention and looked at her with curiosity and anticipation written across her face.

She knelt down in front of the glass table and she placed the steaming cup on the table, directly in front of Melanie's skirt. A slight sigh escaped her lips. This Melanie's pussy was gorgeous, her lips full and ripe and so wanting to be spread open. Watching her clit being pierced with the silver spear was going to be heavenly.

"Please drink it all. It will help you to relax," she told Melanie.

Melanie picked up the cup and held it under her nose. "It smells wonderful. What kind of tea is it?"

"It is our own special Fantasia blend, of teas and herbs. Based on an ancient Oriental tradition."

"Oh my yes, it is good," Melanie said. "Very good," she added after taking a second taste.

"Please drink it all. I will refill your cup in a moment. It will be a few minutes before we will be ready for you."

"Mmm, all right," Melanie said as she relaxed into the deep softness of the love seat.

"Where did you get your jewelry," Melanie asked. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you," she replied, as a fresh pleasurespasm ran down her spine. She could never get enough of caressing the silver dragons that encircled her wrists and neck, or of playing with the rings on her nipples and clit.

"Here. I received them here. You may have a set made for you, too. If you earn the privilege of wearing them." She hurried to refill Melanie's tea cup, before 153 started to ask more questions than she was permitted to answer.

After she delivered the new girl her second cup of tea, she returned to her chair behind her little glass desk and began to masturbate again. She had to do it now, and it mattered not that 153 was watching her with her already dreamy-looking eyes. This one would be ready soon. There would be no need for a third cup.

Rebirth, Part Two

"I've decided on her name."

He put his hand on the girl's head, reaching through the bars of her cage. There was just enough platinum-hued hair for him to hold her with an unbreakable grip.

The Oriental girl stood by his side, with her notebook cradled against her silk-covered breasts, waiting.

"Her name will be Chloe. Chloe Valmont."

"It has a lovely sound to it – Chloe Valmont," the Oriental girl said as she wrote the caged woman's new name down in her notebook.

"I agree. A lovely, sensual sound. I was watching your lips as you spoke her name. Say it again and focus on how your mouth moves when you say her name."

"Chloe. Valmont. Mmmm. Oh yes, I see what you mean. Like I am kissing you and fellating your cock. A name that says 'oral sex' to the eyes and well as the ears. Ingenious, Sir."

"Make sure she is imprinted so that she will always feel that sensual wave when she speaks her name, or when she hears it. She will not know where it comes from, but she will feel her toes curl and her cunt spasm each time she tells someone who she is."

"Consider it done, Sir."

"And I want her trained in the rituals and the intimate skills of Tantra and the Kama Sutra. Everything about Chloe Valmont must radiate 'sex' and every breath she takes will reinforce her sensual and sexual focus. I want the simple act of breathing and drinking a glass of water through a straw or peeling and eating a grape to be a profoundly sensual act for her."

"You're creating your masterpiece, Sir. She is going to be exceptional. Beyond words."

He deflected her compliment with a small nod of his head. "And continue to whip and fuck and sodomize her every day; and never, ever, let her know when her next orgasm is going to be granted. I want her crawling out of her skin with her arousal, constantly."

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