Enslaved. Part II

And then I’m standing in front of his house. Nervous as a schoolgirl. I fiddle with the hem of my skirt, hoping he’ll like my outfit.

Rania Naziri

Choice of dress: Almost presentable. Risky. Teasing. Slutty. Rapebait.

Normally, I’d only dress like this when going clubbing with the girls, but now…

The fabric brushes against my nipples, sending electric jolts through my entire body. All my erogenous zones are stimulated and hypersensitive—yet I feel this urge to dress like his teasing, slutty girlfriend. I choose the black top because it covers everything but with its playful seams and the way it clings to my body, it's so easy to pull down and expose my tits. Only if he wanted to touch me again... And the skirt, beige and not to slutty... Is very slutty the way it almost falls of my lap. It's a bit too big for my taste... So that Finn can shove his hands down my belly and rub...

All that, together with my barely styled hair and the fast makeup, lets me look like a slut. A girl who goes out in the hopes of getting banged. Destroyed by him in a dark alleyway. The thought frightens me, presenting my body like I want to get taken against my will. But I want it. So badly! I want him!

But I don’t ring the bell. I don’t dare.

Because I know why I’m here.

My unbridled desire to steal something, to risk getting caught, to do something forbidden… The only thing I can compare it to is being fucked... by Finn —as if I had no rights, as if I were merely an object for him to use.

The thrill of stealing is my addiction, my drug—the very reason I dragged myself out of bed, unwashed and reeking of pussy, to end up standing here in front of his house.

He’s the only one who gives me this thrill, and tonight I know my task.

I just hope I can pull it off without his orders. Last time, stealing his most precious possession felt like taking hard drugs—but now…

“Oh!” The light blinds me for a second. It’s far brighter than what I’m used to, shining out onto the street like a searchlight and enveloping me in its glaring beam. The door to the house where he lives has opened on its own, catching me in its brilliant, probing reach. I obey.

Lynchwood Home. +2 (PS -62)

And then I’m standing in the entryway of the house. Just like back then.

And just like back then, I can hear the voices of the family inside—happy and carefree—while I stand in the entrance, terrified and horny.

So. Fucking. Horny...

My pussy clamps around the hollow emptiness, and I can only hope for him to fill it with his meat.

Fill my body, boyfriend. Please, fill me.

And just like back then, I feel the wetness between my labia, mingled with the fear of getting caught.

But it’s also different from back then.

I’m alone. All alone. I’m lost in his house. In his life.

Because this time, despite the cold fear, I have this burning need to get caught.

I bet he’ll punish me. Entering his domain without permission—I’m such a bad slut for him. I bet… I hope he punishes me. Fucks me...

I hope he fucks me and keeps me here, instead of making me go to Lakota’s and…

I hope he makes me go to Lakota’s, break into her home, and…

Fuck, I just hope he fucks me and…

“Welcome to the Lynchwood estate, Rania Naziri.”

No. I’m not alone.

“Oh!” I jump again. Not a great trait for a thief. Then I recognize the figure standing in the doorway—poised and firm, yet small and unnoticeable.

“Sonya!” I stammer, taking a step back. I hadn’t noticed the light dimming. As my eyes adjusts, I see… “Oh…”

Of the four of us, Sonya was always the withdrawn one. She didn’t even take part in that prank—the stupid prank that changed my life. And yet, here she is, wearing, it seems, just one thing. A tight-fitting black piece that covers most of her body but still, lets her look like a brainless fuckdoll. Nervous, she sways from one foot to the other, trying to balance on her high heels and nestling on the hem of her spacey-looking dress. Normally, it would look good on her but I've seen her sweatty and naked and now all I can think about my former friend is what it must feel like to peal her out of that black piece and get her naked. On her hips, the fabric has a net that shows she wears a tiny little thong, together with the see-through part of her top that reveals a similar flimsy bra underneath. She looks like she's ready to be feasted at, but still wears more than me, going commando with my tits. Still, seeing Sonya behave this way changes our friendship forever as I see her as some toy that Finn plays with when he is bored, rather the intelligent, cold, calculating woman I knew.

“I… I hope I… I mean…” What can I say to the girl who was my friend not so long ago? Before him. To the girl who is his slave, just like me—who, it seems, lives here now. Or rather, is kept in his house like a pet, or…

“Master Lynchwood will see you shortly. Follow me to the living room.” Her voice is quiet, monotonous. Broken.

No… not broken, I realize as I follow her, almost automatically. Something is compelling me—and it’s more than just my desire to do something forbidden. No. Obeying the Lynchwood family in their own home—it’s almost divine, isn’t it?

Lynchwood Home. +4 (PS -60)

I can’t help but stare at Sonya’s backside as my friend leads me into the house. Volleyball-trained and nice and firm, the hem of her black suit hugs her backside like a perfect second skin, making her ass look... biteable. She smells like expensive perfume and moves elegantly, as if trained to let me look at her ass...

“I… I know the way…” I murmur, suddenly afraid that I might reveal the fact that I’ve already broken in here before. But Sonya ignores the tremor in my voice, moving forward with a grace that suggests she isn’t here entirely against her own will. She already knows the place.

“It’s my duty in this house,” she states simply, and I can’t help but admire her body. Her high heels click against the floor, her legs are muscular and toned, and her backside sways enchantingly as her form-fitting black dress glides over her body like a second skin. I instinctively lick my lips. Then, we arrive in the living room. “Sit.” Sonya points to the spot where she wants me, and I obey without a second thought. “Master Lynchwood will be with you as soon as he deems it necessary.”

“Yes…” I murmur, unable to meet her eyes. “Of course.” We are both dressed like sex toys—little pieces of meat—hoping to be presentable enough for a good fucking by the men who own us. “I’ll wait.”

A brief moment of humanity emerges when Sonya steps quickly toward me and strokes my shoulder. She senses that I’m not wearing a bra beneath my flimsy black top, but she says nothing. We look at each other, two moman in shared slavery and a smile flickers across her lips and is mirrored on my own.

I am not alone. I realize this, once and for all. We are all part of this game. We all belong to Finn. In one way or another. He keeps Sonya like a pet, or something of the sort. His house slave—while he commands me to head out into the world.

Has he fucked her yet? The thought catches me off guard. Back when we were just friends, we used to talk openly about the guys and women in our lives. But now, the idea of ​​competing with Sonya for the man who fucks both of us—however he pleases—brings with it an entirely different feeling. I bet he fucked your brains out, just like he did with me. I want to say it, but I don’t dare. And it’s for the best that I keep my whore mouth shut.

Sonya’s smile fades, and she turns cold as steel once again. Without another word, she spins around and vanishes from the room.

I watch her shapely backside, imagining what it must be like when Finn fucks her.

Does she moan? Is she a squirter? The thoughts circle in my head as pictures of our previous r... ra... useges flood my head. When he takes her, does she close those sexy long legs around him to hold him? Or is that forbidden? I don't dare do such stunts with him. Whenever he fucks me, I just do what feels like the best for him. He fucks me to punish me. But does he fuck her for... something else? Has she found a way to make her fuckholes useful? My god, what am I thinking? But it's clear. I'm in some sort of rivalry with the girl, Sonya turned into. This ice-cold but steaming hot piece of meat, walking around like some robot and getting fucked as often as she wants while I... On my spot, my legs rub together, and it seems, the dozens of orgasms weren't nearly enough. Would she share him? I mean, it would be up to him. But would Sonya spread her legs with me in the room? Willingly? Or does she ned to be forced as well? Or... does she even like it? I bet she likes it! I bet, when I moan like her and dress like a slut... Finn would...

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

The clock on the wall is the only sound in the room while a storm rages behind my eyes. I sit nervously on the edge of the sofa, not daring to make myself comfortable. I’m his slave. I don’t deserve comfort. And if I were to mess anything up here—even just shifting one of the cushions, which are arranged so neatly on the sofa—I fear I’d be punished by Finn, or perhaps even by Sonya. So, I sit there, anxious, waiting for…

Then, I hear his footsteps. And I hear his voice.

“Just tell me where you are when I call, okay? You know I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

It's not just him. It's two pairs of feet, or three. I can't think about that. I can't think at all. My brain shuts down and fear and nervousness conquers my body as wettnes conquers my pussy. My fingernails dig into my palms and my legs start to shake nervously. How should I present myself to him? My head is so empty and at the same time so full and overwhelmed by fear and desire.

Should I kneel like a slave? Or thro myself to the ground at his feet? Or should I stay and present my body to him? Or should I sit like I do now and obey his commands? But it wasn't him! It was Sonya who...

Too late. My heart stops beating the moment he steps into the room.

“Finn…” I breathe. Beside him, his sister. Rose, I know. The one who fucked me with him. And on his heels, Sonya, like a gray little mouse in her sexualized dress, eyes downcast and silent.

“Hey sluttypig,” he snarls and stands in front of me, his sister holding on to his body and caring for the places I want to worship too. Sonya meanwhile stands on the wall, her ass pressed against it, hands folded over her crotch and head lowered.

And I jump to my feet.

“Sir!” I almost scream and stand at attention.

Then I fold like the weak slut in love that I am, crutsy first, then I want to fall to my knees but my legs get weak and I throw myself to the ground.

“I’m so sorry Sir,” I babble and, to Rose’s snickering, I don’t even know what I’m sorry about. But better be sorry, I already know. “I’m sorry for being such a dumb slut Sir!” God, please, I pray to you. Please let me serve him right.

“Hop to your feet, sluttypig,” he grins, his voice poisonous but warm, amused almost. I obey and stumble in front of him. Remembering I wear a slutty, teasing, rape bait skirt, I crutsy again and show him a glimpse of my pink panties.

And he ignores me.

Instead of recognizing me, he sits with Sonya on his lap opposite me on the big, comfy couch and plays with my friends titts while talking to his sister.

“It’s just an evening with my friends,” she explains, sitting on his other side, ignoring me and Sonya and playing with his hair. “Heather and I want to spend some time alone until… well… you know…” Their eyes meet.

"You know I won't stand between you two, right? Like I already said." The two of them kiss while Finn pinches a fabric-clad nipple on Sonya’s breast. The girl squeals silently and bites her lip to stay quiet while balancing her body on his lap and making room for Rose to kiss him. I watch my friend try her best to give her body over to this boy, but at the same time avoids being in the way like a piece of furniture for him to play with.

“And I already told you it’s okay with me.” Their lips meet again and she bumps against Sonya, who tries her best to give Finn full access to her firm breasts and still being out of the way like a good slave. “I know we will stay even closer when you have her.”

And then…

“I love you, sister.” Rose smiles at his words.

“And I love you, brother.”

And I can't even be shocked anymore. Instead, I hold my breath when Rose rises and looks at me.

"And have fun with this one. Your slittypig... what?"

“Girlfriend.” Finn smiles with a knowing expression. “My sluttypig girlfriend.” Rose giggles, as if my enslavement is a particularly good but simple joke. Then we are alone and he keeps me down alone with his stars. He could grab me, throw me down and fuck me to pieces right here on the floor… but his stars are enough to keep me in my place, timid and complacent. “So,” he says with calm stoicism, knowing I will do whatever he commands.

Because I want to steal things.

And because I want him to fuck me.

Because... I'm in love with him...