A Friendly Face?

You find yourself spending a restless night contemplating the events of the previous day. In place of your hunger, you now notice a gnawing, needy jonesing for that indulgent, jizzy nectar. Any doubts that consumption of her ejaculate might manifest dependency disappear, as your thoughts increasingly linger on intense longing.

You pace out the length of your cell, trying to focus your addled mind. The Mistress gave you the entire day off, and you must use that time wisely. You determine to devote a portion of the day to the devisement of an escape plan. While you have nominally submitted to her will, that doesn’t mean that you have internally given up on a desire for freedom.

In truth, you still aren’t certain that this place is even real. Perhaps with genuine effort, you will be able to *think* your way out of it.

You try to adopt a positive attitude as you once again lay your naked body across the center of your cell. You close your eyes and attempt to concentrate on memories of your former life. You imagine the physical aspects of your home: how it smelled, how it looked, the arrangement of the furniture, the dust bunnies that lived beneath your bed. The more detail the better, you tell yourself. You remember the sunny days and the stormy nights. You recall the smells of street food that wafted through town. You squint your eyes tightly shut and try to imagine yourself there, walking down the road.

“I’m not here anymore. I’m not here. I’m not here. I’m back home again. None of this really happened. It's just a dream. This is all a dream. It's time to wake up now. Time to wake up…”

Silently chanting to yourself, you are suddenly snapped out of this wishful reverie by the sound of giggling near your cell door. You instinctively recoil from the noise, covering your genitals as you do. You scan for the source of the sound to find a lithe, young girl bashfully smirking at you. Her skin is the same sickly blueish purple as the Mistress’s, though she is shorter and appears to be a fair bit more youthful. She has short, nubby horns growing from the sides of her head, and her cute auburn hair is tied back into two short pigtails. Adorning her body is a black and white dress outfit that reaches to her mid-thigh, not unlike the sort of maid uniforms you have seen in your reality--though perhaps a bit more skimpy.

“Is that helping?”

You stare confusedly at her for several moments, unsure how to respond. “Uhh, w-what--”

She covers her mouth and stifles a laugh as she eyes you with interest. “Your mantra. That naked invocation just now. Does it help you?”

You sit up cross-legged, still concealing your junk to the best of your ability. “Help me? Uhh…I--I’m not sure what you mean.”

She cocks her head curiously and stares into you with a piercing golden gaze that is unmistakably similar to the Mistress’s. “I mean…does it help you, you know…cope with your situation. Pretending not to be here.”

You furrow your brow in annoyance. “Hey, I wasn’t pretending, alright? This place can’t be real. This isn’t happening. None of it is!”

She frowns and shifts her hands behind her back, contemplating your words for a moment. “I wonder…would that matter?”

“Would what matter?” You growl back in a harsher tone than you intended.

“I mean…” She averts her gaze and pauses for a moment. “Even if this isn’t real, would that change anything?” She looks back up at you with a wan smile.

“Does telling yourself it’s not real mitigate your suffering?”

You pull your legs tightly against your chest and ruminate on this for a moment.

She puts her hands on the bars of your cell and leans in. “Suffering is suffering; be it in reality or in a dream. I know that better than anyone. I’m a prisoner here, same as you…and I’ve been here a long time.”

You stand up suddenly, surprised and hopeful that this girl might be your ticket out of here. You approach her, momentarily and completely unaware of your own nakedness.

She blushes as she inspects your encroaching, bouncing cock. You put your hands over hers on the cell bars, paying no mind to your own indecency. “You’re not with her? Please--can you help me? I need to get out of here. Do you know where the keys are?”

She takes her eyes off your cock for a moment and meets your gaze. “Even if I did, you’d never escape this facility. Why do you think I am allowed to freely walk around? This cell is for your training…not imprisonment.”

You look down the hallways for any sign trouble, spying no one. “There’s got to be something you can do. Please…I’m begging you.”

She gives you a sheepish smile with eyes full of pity. “I can offer you my friendship…a little comfort; maybe even help you pick up a few of the pieces…but I can’t help you leave. If I tried, I’d just end up back where you are. I can’t go back there; I won’t…”

You sigh and nod understandingly. This girl has likely been through more hell than you can imagine. Asking her to risk everything for a stranger is beyond request.

“Misery loves company, eh?” You say with a resigned smile.

She nods slightly with a pained expression as you both share a moment of silence.

“My name’s Minerva, by the way. Thanks for asking.” She winks coyly at you.