Trapped and Tamed Read online

  Monica was confident she’d drive the little lady ever deeper in debt and ever deeper immersed in slavery. Dawn was her useful tool and she intended to keep her ready for use….

  Chapter 11

  Fishy swam to and fro in the big pool at the Institute of Submission. She was in her usual curious mental state between sessions of actual sex. It was a sort of buzz of contented non-thinking. She hadn’t spoken in many weeks and now the lack of intelligent communication had spread to alter her very mind to some degree. She was becoming a creature of instinct. Forethought was abandoned in favor or simple reaction. Obedience and sexual arousal and need for abuse filled her days, hours, minutes, and mind.

  Sometimes she did think coherently and fully realized her current situation in comparison to her former self. Each time she flinched away. Comparing her former life with her current activities made part of her, a part still good and still intact, recoil in dismay. It was a mental torture more acute than any whipping. As a result, when she did think intelligently, she consciously tried to make the thinking stop. She almost always succeeded. The rare times she failed to immediately dismiss the thoughts they were soon banished by the next session of pleasure, or pain, or pain/pleasure. She was thinking less and less all the time. Mostly she just reacted.

  She heard the double doors to the pool room swing open and she twisted in the water, instinctively wanting to look at the visitor.

  It was Anni, the Director/Head Mistress of the Institute of Submission. Fishy remembered her as the sensually bold Assistant (Secretary) to the real Director, Wendy Carter. Fishy knew by now that Wendy was just one more slave letting the Institute work its will upon her. Anni was top dog and everybody knew it, even Fishy’s direct Master, Wilrey.

  The short young woman wore high heels and they clattered across the pool tiles as she strode lazily to the edge of the pool.

  Fishy thought Anni’s eyes looked harder now than when they first met. They were less enthused but more adamant.

  “Fish, swim over to me. Now. ”

  Fishy felt oddly hurt that Anni called her “Fish” instead of by her real name of Fishy. Was it because she cared so little about her that she didn’t bother to learn her name? Or was she trying to insult her, trying to inflict mental pain by changing her dehumanized name into one ever so slightly more deprecatory?

  No matter. Fishy knew that much of her role in life was to sponge up abuse. Everything from simple discomfort to electric pain to shame and humiliation to mental and emotional torture. Whatever, whenever, wherever, by whomever.

  In a moment Fishy floated a couple feet from the edge, gently paddling feet straight under her kept her relatively in place. Like a mermaid. Except, she was just a Fishy. A mermaid was at least half human and Fishy was pretty sure they were even allowed to talk.

  “You sure are a stinky fish. ”

  Fishy was used to the smell and so fairly oblivious to it but she knew from visitors’ comments the pool area did smell. No one had cleaned it in quite a while. Some portion of the pool was not water. Her sweat, her pussy juices, sperm from various visitors, and even urine were all mixed into the pool water. The non-water portion grew slightly every day.

  Fishy knew the operators had the means, financial and manpower, to clean the pool or have it cleaned. It was just that they didn’t seem to want to.

  Fishy knew the pool probably did smell like real fish swam in it.

  “You are a stinky, smelly, stinky fish. ”

  The words still burned Fishy’s savaged psyche. She blinked up at Anni’s beauty. She was so beautiful. Fishy wouldn’t let Anni’s beauty distract her too much. Anni clearly wanted her to feel emotional pain. Very purposely Fishy considered Anni’s humiliating words. Her mind played them over and over like a favorite movie reel. Her thoughts licked at new images of how low and disgusting she must appear to Anni as they bubbled through her mind.

  Fishy’s face warmed with shame and her pussy thrilled with wrongful arousal. She felt so low, like an animal. No, something even less than a dumb animal. Even fish was too evolved. Ooze. She felt like sexy ooze. A pool of semi-intelligent ooze floating on the fouled water. If she dissolved just a little she would lose herself entirely. She would just float and feel. Scum, unable to do anything other than just be….

  Anni’s voice roused her partly back up the evolutionary ladder, “Stink Fish, it’s as wellfor you the Institute of Submission believes in mercy and charity. For instance, feeding the needy. ”

  Fishy solemnly watched Anni pull something out of the tiny purse slung to her side. What was it? A short round cylinder flat on the top and bottom. Colorful design. What kind of dildo was that? It didn’t look like it would be very useful in inflicting pleasure.

  Now Anni was using both hands on it. She was twisting the top. Was it a vibrating dildo? Did it twist on and off?

  Wait, it wasn’t a dildo! It opened for Anni and now Anni sprinkled with delicate wrist shakes over the water of the pool. What was it? Spice?

  “I wasn’t sure what to feed you. I mean, I know you eat jism but that’s hardly a complete diet. Then I thought, ‘She’s a fish. What do fish eat? Fish food! ’”

  Understanding slapped at Fishy’s wavering sense of self. Fish food…. That wasn’t spice falling like tiny autumn leaves to land and float on the jouncing surface of the unclean pool. It was the kind of artificial fish food sold in pet stores!

  Fishy looked up dumbly at Anni. Was this just some further insult or was there more to this?

  “Splash to it, Fish. You have to eat up all your yum yum. Oooo, tasty flakes! What a delicacy for you. Be genuine about it now. Fish don’t actually have hands. You’re some kind of mutant fish. But no cheating, Stink Fish! No hands. You have to swim to all the flakes and use only your fish mouth to swallow them down. Not one flake left or no orgasm for you! ”

  That was quite a motivation for Fishy. Obedience to Anni was also its own reward anyway. As well, she was hungry. Even though swallowing a couple hundred fish food flakes and all those mouthfuls of foul water would not actually do much to sate her hunger. Not her physical hunger….

  Fishy swam after the flakes and swallowed as many as possible together in sweeping gulps. They were spreading out fast.

  Anni’s delighted laughter tinkled over the water. She was wildly entertained. This was the highlight of her month. The Internet fans would be playing reruns of this one for years!

  It took nearly ten minutes but once no surviving flakes of fish food could be found Anni ordered Fishy to come to the pool shallows and then to come up and out until all of her but her feet was out of the water.

  Yes! Just as Anni had anticipated, Fishy’s trim belly now bulged prettily from the huge intake of water. Fishy looked a little sick. A little green around the gills…. Anni chortled, tears of glee filling her eyes.

  Fishy stood unevenly. She’d done it. She got all those flakes swallowed down. So full. She felt nauseous. Nauseous and horny. Knowing the spectacle of her humiliation had turned her on. She wasn’t sure which she wanted more; to orgasm or to puke.

  Anni tossed a slim vibrator at her and that broke the tie betwixt illness and lust. In a moment she had the smooth buzzing tube up her snatch. She worked it skillfully and in under a minute she climaxed while standing. Standing orgasms often seemed stronger to her and this time that certainly held true. She weaved about on unsteady legs and felt the swallowed water slosh heavily inside her.

  Anni discarded all her clothing below the waist and sat on the edge of the pool. She spread her legs and pointed at her pussy.

  “Over here, Fish. Make me come. You better hurry. You drank a lot of water and you’re going to be more than desperate to pee soon. No pissing for you until there’s an orgasm for me. Ha ha! I’m probably going to try to think about baseball just to make it difficult for you! ”

  Fishy lay in t
he shallow water and looked at Anni’s pale delicate pussy with the rosy interior lips. She still felt ill and she already felt pressure in her bladder but that pussy sure did look edible to her. Another treat!

  Just as Fishy’s face darted in, Anni used one hand on Fishy’s forehead to keep her from her goal and the other held the canister of fish food flakes.

  “A little extra flavoring for you, Fish. ”

  Anni dumped a generous portion of flakes all over her mound. They clung to her droplets of aroused wetness. The smell was a rough cross between seaweed and caged reptile.

  Fishy dove in.

  Wayne Jones was pissed off. His plan was in danger of being derailed.

  As per plan the fourth slave acquisition from his buy-out of the clinic, dark-eyed exquisitely beautiful Sierra, was back at the mansion chained under the dining room table. He knew Little Johnson and Flamepussy would have put her through further paces by now. If a young woman shackled under a table and shuffling about on her knees could be termed as going though her “paces”.

  As per plan Jones had returned to the clinic. He checked on Dr. Lynne, receptionist Amber, and Nurse Tina ensconced behind the locked door to his huge office. They were still following his last directions. Sexy and sweaty. A visual and aromatic delight. He longed to touch them and participate but even he had limitations. The load of sperm simmering in his testicles was reserved for the fifth slave-to-be, Alyssa. He withdrew from new slaves one, two, and three after issuing some new directions for later on.

  At some point he’d need to baptize all six with new names, once they were ready, but there was no rush. One never knew when and where inspiration would strike for new slave names. Sometimes when he learned more about them, sometimes by happenings during the dominating process, sometimes by reason of future role designed for them. Certainly it would be poor form and bad luck to name slaves before they were enslaved. No one should ever do that!

  As per plan Jones sought out the potential fifth, Alyssa. Potential? Probable nearly to a certainty. Or so he’d thought. He was going to save the potentially difficult Lori for last. That pin would fall the following day if he could manage it. Or so he’d thought.

  That’s when “as per plan” ended. Sierra, as directed by him, had supposedly paved the way by calling Alyssa from Dr. Jones’ residence -- on his cell phone and under his dining room table -- and reassuring her that all was well with Dr. Jones’ secretive plans for the clinic and that he was to be trusted. That was done to ensure an unsuspecting and cooperative Alyssa. Sierra had succeeded in calming the girl’s stated fears regarding the mysterious new clinic owner. Even Jones, however, could not prevent every single eventuality.

  Alyssa and Lori had finished their cleaning duties or at least they felt they had. After all, though depleted in number he’d had them cleaning the clinic day after day all week so they were essentially cleaning what was already blemish free. No doubt they felt angry and humiliated by these “maid” duties. The concept that they were outraged and humiliated that nursing professionals like them were being misused in that way greatly amused Jones. These two knew nothing about outrage. Or about humiliation. Or about misuse. Jones had smiled, pleased and confident he would enlighten their ignorance oh so very soon. He would make them into experts in Outrage, Humiliation, and Misuse. First hand experts. As well as in Pain, Masochism, Obedience, and Subservience. Those categories would be their course work in the Wayne Jones Academy of Life Experiences. He would enroll them, like it or not, and they’d have no say. Eventually they would be grateful. Not that it mattered to him.

  Jones found them visiting with each other in the miniature staff lounge. They hushed when he entered. Doubtless they’d been talking about him. That was to be expected since his takeover was still a work in progress. He did not care one iota for their opinions but he took a moment to coolly appraise their posture and expressions. Alyssa, co-operative and sweet-natured, looked guilty, excited, flushed, and nervous. She was a slim delicate blonde. Jones knew it was always most enjoyable to commit the meanest acts of abuse on the nice ones. Lori, a “leader” type who, though young, seemed to view the others as younger sisters she was duty-bound to protect, looked determined and defiant. Lori was also blonde and slim but athletic and very tall, reminiscent of a beach Volleyball player. Jones knew it was always most enjoyable to commit the basest acts of humiliation on the strong-willed ones.

  Just as successful conquerors were expert at dismantling castles, forts, and obstacles in their way, Jones was expert at crippling will power in others and at removing their self-motivation. He was even expert at eliminating their instinct for self-preservation. Their lives were in no danger but their sense of self was.

  One at a time he told himself. Alyssa and then, later, Lori. He so looked forward to that challenge but one at a time was the way to go. Save the best for last.

  Jones was wrong. He would not be able to save Lori for last and one at a time would not be possible this time.

  Alyssa looked at Lori and was clearly waiting for her to take the lead. Right then Jones knew that the called-in reassurances from Sierra had not worked as well as he’d anticipated.

  Lori cleared her throat, “Dr. Jones, I understand you’re here now to take Alyssa off to some dinner and a one on one meeting. Well and fine. Except it will be one on two this time. The thing is this:I’m coming with. ”

  Jones thing eyebrows rose in surprise, “I appreciate your volunteering, Nurse Lori, but I believe in one at a time. ”

  “Yeah, that’s nice. The thing is, we believe in two at a time. Don’t we, Alyssa? ”

  Alyssa had a little smile at the corners of her mouth. It was obvious she enjoyed Lori’s standing up to him. No doubt Lori’s respect among her peers would increase for facing down the mysterious Dr. Jones. If they weren’t slaves already for the most part and if Lori never became a slave to him herself. If she did the defiance would just look ridiculous.

  Alyssa’s blue eyes flicked to meet Wayne Jones’ odd eyes that looked like shattered stained glass windows. Jones saw something in Alyssa’s eyes. Something new. What was it?

  Alyssa’s voice was as sweet as her countenance and demeanor, “Dr. Jones, we respect you and know you’re the rightful owner now and you can do what you want with the clinic. We need our jobs and hope you’ll keep us on. I am… curious… about your plans and may want to be included. Lori is an excellent nurse and she takes care of the rest of us. It just wouldn’t be fair to leave her till last. Please just tell us both at once. ”

  Jones’ eyes passed back and forth between them. They were being difficult. Lori’s eyes were steely. Alyssa’s eyes… were not actually at all unco-operative. They seemed to hold a hidden wisdom.

  “Dr. Jones, Lori and I will take the news well, good or bad. We’ll take it better together than apart. Besides, if you told me and not her it wouldn’t be long before the cat was out of the bag. I’m not a blabbermouth but I can’t keep any secrets. Especially not from my good friend Lori. ”

  Jones knew all that she said was true. Of course, if he’d managed to enslave her on her own then he would have made sure to stop her from communicating with Lori just as he had all the others, whether by chaining them up or through simple obedience to his wishes. This time, even if he got her off on her own and succeeded, the lack of communication after she said this would set off alarms in Lori. Already a huge challenge that would make enslaving her impossible. As well, she might call in authorities. Jones could have none of that.

  Damn. They had him. Boxed in by social logic. He could not get out of this or work his will artfully by his intended design. He’d have to forge ahead. Well, it would be an interesting challenge.

  “Very well, I’ll treat you both to dinner at my place right now. I’ll call ahead and let my personal cook know to set plate and cook for a second guest as well. ”

  Lori looked slightly
victorious and Alyssa looked relieved he hadn’t fired them.

  He even called in his cell phone right in front of them. He asked them what kind of dressing they’d like with their salads and relayed the info to a hushed and expectant Flamepussy on the other end. He did not actually give a damn about the salads or the dressing.

  The call put the mansion staff -- his royal retinue -- on alert. Telling them that there would be another guest let them know the nature of the situation. Talk of salad was like calling a play from a playbook. If he’d said they’d be eating on the veranda or told them to have red wine or white wine available, each instruction meant something different. Jones could not always know what would happen but he did usually plan to overcome any and all foreseeable events. In this particular situation the communication instructed Flamepussy to dress conservatively, that the others should stay clear, and that Jones would not even need her assistance.

  This would be a potential masterpiece.

  He planned to take on this challenge alone.

  Well, sort of alone….

  Chapter 12

  The two unknowing slaves-to-be were quiet and tense on the ride out to the mansion. Alyssa, riding in the passenger seat, made a few polite comments about the temperate breezy weather. She seemed excited in a positive way. More so than Jones would have ever predicted. Having Lori with her must reassure her he concluded.

  Lori had her full guard up. She kept her face impassive and said almost nothing. Jones checked on her from time to time in the rear view mirror. Once she caught him and narrowed her eyes in a near glare. The young woman was sexy but rangy in build and her strong mental make up was even more of a potential problem than her physical strength. Jones wondered again if he was going to be able to mount, stay on, and ultimately break this filly to the rein.