Chained!

I used to be cynical about the word "freedom" until I got into the D/s scene, and eventually I learned first-hand what it was, what it wasn’t.

To tell you the truth, I am not quite sure how I ended up where I am. I was hanging with this freaky bunch, they pretty much had their sex however they wanted it, right? At least one couple were professionals at domination, and I think they owned the property where we would go and fool around. See, I hung around the D/s people because I always liked women to lead, but I thought that kind of thing was unusual among most women. Some people tell me that more women than I’d expect actually like to set the pace, but what do I know?

To make a long story short, I went with this one girl, Alice, to her place. She was a redhead, blue eyes, nice and rounded, a little plump without being fat - you know, attractive but not like a supermodel. She was wearing a neat stylized goat-head pendant that I remarked on, which was how we started talking. Over at her place, she said she could offer me a lifetime of hot sex whenever I wanted it if I’d only please lance my fingertip. I was more than a little drunk at the time, so I went “Hey, sure,” lanced my fingertip, and then pressed it to the piece of paper she had beside the lancet just like she said. Then, well, we fooled around, she led. I do tend to prefer that.

Anyway, it was fun, although she kept the pendant on and it kind of irritated me a little; but I didn’t think much of it at the time. And at the end, I decided, “Okay, I’ll go home.” So after she fell asleep, I tried. I got dressed, went out the door of the bedroom, went to the front door of the flat, opened it, and found myself looking into the bedroom. Now, this was pretty special. I hadn’t done any serious mind-altering drugs, I think the lancet had been fresh out of the package when I used it, you know? So I tried going through the apartment again, got the same results. Eventually, the girl woke up from me walking around and occasionally swearing in confusion.

So Alice said, “You look confused,” and I said, “I think I am a bit lost.” And she assured me that, no, I wasn’t lost, I was right here, in New York, and there was nothing to worry about.

“Can I go home?”

“No,” she said, “not until I let you.”

I got mad at that point. I started shouting, crazy things just came out of my mouth, until she just touched her fingers to her lips and I couldn’t say a word. Not a single one. I could open my mouth or shut it, I could breathe, but I couldn’t make a single sound nor form words with my lips. Magic!

I calmed down after a bit of struggling to speak, and just kinda resigned myself to it. I tried going out again, and this time the door actually opened onto the hallway outside, but I couldn’t actually go through. It was like a collar holding me back.

So, I said to myself, be rational here. You went home with a woman, she used magic to silence you and then bind you to remain in her apartment. What do you do now?

And the answer was simple: make some coffee. So I went into the little kitchen there, messed around in the cabinets until I found filters and coffee and mugs and stuff, set water on the stove.

I went back into the bedroom, and I saw she had gotten up and she was brushing out her hair, pretty as you please, sitting on a little stool in front of the mirror. So I tried to speak, but all I got out was heavy breathing. She turned around and pointed her finger at me, and something tickled and I had to sneeze, and she said, “You were saying?”

“I’m making coffee, do you want some?” is what I said, before realizing she’d unmuted me. Just like that. Pretty cool, pretty cool, though I wish it hadn’t been me at the business end of her power, there. And she said, “Yes, I would. That’s a good servant, anticipating his mistress’s wishes.”

Hmm, I thought, this is interesting.

Well, I didn’t say anything, I just went away and made the damn coffee. Decided I’d growl at her after we were both in a better state to be thinking about things. So a few minutes later, I pick up my mug and go back into the bedroom, and she looks like she’s thinking about a shower. So I’m standing there, watching her, sipping my coffee. And she’s standing there, watching me instead of doing anything with what looked like a change of clothes, watching me.

Finally I got tired of this staring contest, and I said, “Look, this really can’t go on. I need to go home, wash up, get stuff done over the weekend, go to work in the morning.”

And Alice said, “Mistress.”

“What?”

“Address me as ‘Mistress’ or you won’t be speaking for the better part of the day.”

“Fine, Mistress. I—“

“That’s the first thing. Second, you said you were making coffee. Where’s mine?”

“It’s on the counter, right where I left it.”

“’Right where I left it, Mistress.’ Final warning!”

“Okay, Mistress. I thought you’d be up after me to get your own.”

“I might have been,” she agreed, “but it’s your job to bring it to me, not my job to come and get it from you.”

I protested. “I’m not your servant! Mistr--” I shut up, realizing how stupid that sounded.

“Aren’t you, though? I can tell you where you can or cannot go. I can grant you or remove from you the power of speech. And you refer to me as ‘Mistress’. What part of this doesn’t say ‘servant’ to you?”

I snarled a curse at her. I won’t repeat it; it wasn’t in English, and it is vile. She smiled, and pointed, and I couldn’t speak. Then my feet were rooted to the ground. And then she said, “If you hadn’t argued at all, if you’d done it all right, I would have let you go home.

“But you had to argue, didn’t you? And even if you had just argued, I would simply have kept you here, maybe silenced you.”

I crossed my arms and stared daggers at her. I was hating her to death in my mind.

“But then you called me that, and oh, yes, I know what that means,” she said, “so I’m going to make this fun.”

And she crooked a finger. And suddenly there was a pressure in my pants, growing with every second. Whatever she was doing, it was giving me a massive, massive erection. It started hurting almost immediately, constrained by my shorts. Then she made another gesture. My shirt unbuttoned itself and tied my arms behind my back. My belt clicked open, my jeans unzipped and unbuttoned themselves, and an invisible hand kind of… rearranged things until the really turgid erection popped out of my shorts.

Now, don’t take me for a prude, right, but the only time I’d like to be waving a stiffy around like that is when I’m about to use it for its intended purpose. So I’m a little uncomfortable, just tied there – I mean, I’ve been tied up for sexual purposes too, but I had no idea what was going on here, and no reason to expect the kind of release I might expect otherwise.

And something just happens inside my head, out of my control, and my hips start to thrust a little. I try to keep it under control, to fight whatever influence she’s using, sitting there demurely, but eventually it’s worthless, and I have to thrust. And I realize her influence is spreading in my mind, because I’m feeling it not as an external force in my head but an irresistible impulse, something out of my own mind, something I should do. And in just a couple of minutes I’m humping the air, just like I would if there was someone taking it from me. I even spread my legs a little like I’m bracing myself. And hump the air. I can’t stop.

In fact, I realize that despite my embarrassment and my anger at her, whatever is making me hump the air is also bringing me closer to climax. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it. And she comes over to me and stands in front of me, and she tells me, “Remember that paper you put your blood on? That was a contract. You signed it. You will obey it, willingly or unwillingly. You’re mine, now.” And even though she’s just wearing a soft pink T-shirt with hearts and cats on it, she’s suddenly the scariest thing I have ever, ever seen in my entire life.

And then it happened. You know what it’s like, the pressure builds until suddenly it hits a critical point, and the plumbing turns on, and… I took some satisfaction right then that at least I was going to mess up her nice and pretty T-shirt, as I spurted on it.

And the damnedest thing happened. It just vanished. Not the shirt, the semen, before it could even wet the fabric. Gone.

And I just gawked.

And I noticed also that my erection hadn’t gone down. It was still poking up there, even after I’d dropped a full load on her. And with a gesture, I can feel the change, it’s not just poking up but actually ready to go again. I can’t explain the feeling, but you probably know what I mean, right?

This time she brought me forward to the bed, she threw her shirt off, she was up on her knees and I had my legs against the side of the bed, right? And that same irresistible impulse had me again, despite all the resistance I could muster, and because of the low bed my erection was pointed at her navel… I was humping her navel. I couldn’t quite look down, but I heard her laugh. She was kind of… yielding, because of her basic shape. But even so, it hurt, because first, it was pretty sensitive from having fired off so recently, and then pushing into what’s basically a dead-ended orifice, you know… but again, I had to hump. There was no not humping her navel. And it became important to me that I was humping her navel and I had to keep doing it until… until… oh god… I looked down even as my eyes crossed and unfocused the moment I came, ejaculating again, just as much, just as hard. And pretty much the same thing happened – as fast as the fluid welled out of her rapidly-overflowing navel, it was vanishing against her skin.

And then… I got the sense this was going to continue all day, me being mind-controlled into these fairly bizarre acts and being thereby humiliated – and I was, because self-control is something I’m big on – but Alice tilted her head, put her finger to her temple, and started a conversation. It was like a telephone conversation without the telephone.

“What?”

“Yeah, but usually they give us longer notice. Twenty minutes isn’t nearly enough.”

“Well, I’ll do what I can.”

“Yeah, yeah! See you there, Esme.”

And then she took her finger away from the side of her head – I guess she’d hung up.

Immobilized, I stood there watching her as she went to the closet, shuffled things around in there, and pulled out some strange stuff – a large, pointy black hat with a wide brim, for example. Then a staff topped with a horned skull I was sure didn’t belong to any creature living or dead. A slinky red dress. A more somber black coat. And wow, the boots looked solid enough to walk on lava.

Then she closed her closet door, and got dressed.

She gestured to me, releasing my bonds of compulsion. “You’re coming with me, now. But I won’t be having an untrained familiar jerk me around. You’re going in disguise.” And she pointed at me again, and the world was suddenly rushing upward – I found myself looking around over the edge of my boxers, crumpled on the floor. I stood up, and that didn’t help things much, because I didn’t really get any taller. I looked around, looked back at myself…

Shit. She turned me into a cat. Well, at least a stylish black cat, from what I could see. And then she grabbed me and tucked me under her arm, just like that, before I could try to get away. I squealed and thrashed, but she whacked me sharply on the nose, told me to shut up, and pointed out I couldn’t scratch or bite her, anyway.

And then she said, “Well, we’re in a hurry. There’s no time to fly or build a gateway. But there’s a shortcut.”

“Where does it go?” Strange, I thought, but at least I can still speak.

“Through a bad part of Hell,” she said, just casually, as though it were no big deal. And she opened her closet door again, only this time it was a little hollow space in a wall of glistening rock, there was a hole in the floor, and sulfurous flame belched out of it as I watched.

“This may get a little odd,” she said, as though what she’d put me through was perfectly ordinary, “but really, don’t try to get away. You won’t be able to find a safe path.”

“But you will?”

“Of course,” she said. “I’m a witch. It’s one of the first things you learn.”

She took a few steps forward, with me under her arm, remember, and just dropped down into the hole.

Next thing I know, we’re in Hell. And my senses here get very confused, because at the same time she’s striding through a roaring inferno, we’re flying through a hurricane of faces and voices that taunt and jeer and get in our path, and I’m falling down a bottomless hole in a place so empty, that light, darkness, time and space have no meaning. I wondered if this was what a bad acid trip was like, or if this is what psychosis was like, but I got no answers.

Then suddenly it was over. There was a sensation of things stretching – including things which could not possibly stretch – and things suddenly snapped into focus. What I was seeing with my eyes was what was there in front of me.

And it was… strange.

Have you ever been to a fan convention? Well, you know how it is, everyone’s milling around, either talking to friends, meeting new friends, buying something, or trying to get someone else to buy something. Meanwhile there are performers here or there, performing or posing or whatever, and there may also be security people looming over everyone, and… and… it was exactly like that, if a convention were to be held in Hell. There were women all over the place, accompanied by a variety of beasts or men, or by nobody. Everyone was dressed differently, although tall, showy hats predominated among the women.

And in places the women are clustered around these creatures that look like demons, you know: rams’ horns or goats’ horns curled back away from snarling canine faces, evil-looking runes glistened wetly on foreheads… their hands were the paws of beasts, and their feet often had hooves. Some carried weapons, staves or swords, but from their muscles, they could probably rip anyone here in half without breaking a sweat… although I realized not all the muscles were muscles. They had a… well, a fair number of breasts, in pairs, down their torsos. I guess they were all female, but I didn’t ask.

I did ask, when I saw a number of the demons bowing before a man sitting on a throne, especially because the man sitting on the throne was short, grey-haired, generally non-threatening… he looked a lot like Tim Curry. In fact, I realized, he was Tim Curry.

So I asked. “W-why is Tim Curry being worshipped by those demons?” Alice was at that moment arguing with someone over the price of what looked like a handful of beans, I have no idea what the hell it was. And the shopkeeper looked at me, and Alice said, “New cat,” and the shopkeeper shrugged and said, “We come here to worship the Angels of Baphomet,“ and here, she made a complicated gesture like crossing herself, “and the Angels themselves kneel before the King Baphomet, who dissolves or congeals at will.” This sounded like a religious formula, an incantation.

“But Tim Curry? Seriously?”

“Don’t be foolish,” said Alice. “Baphomet has no physical appearance. If you try to look at it, your own mind creates an image for you. You see Tim Curry up there? Well, that’s because you think Tim Curry looks like Baphomet should look.”

Well, that shut me up, because apart from having been turned into a cat and ripped out of my usual plane of existence to go to Hell, I was basically being told that I thought Tim Curry was Satan. So my brain kind of just went off and played by itself while I watched what was going on.

Well, Alice concluded her business up there, and then she exerted her will again, making me follow her. I padded after her into a... row house, or something, where there was apparently a pretty active party going on – I could smell drinks, some drugs I recognized by smell, some things I didn’t recognize, and… the smell of sex. A lot of sex. So, basically, it was an orgy. Like popular conceptions of sorority houses, I guess?

We go in, Alice hangs up her coat and her hat… and she’s dressed in that slinky red dress I mentioned, right? And the house is full of men and women, but the thing is, it’s the women who are having all the fun – the men are waiting on them. It didn’t take too long for me to figure out that these women were probably mostly witches, and any men here were their familiars. I tried to ask Alice if she would transform me back, but I don’t think she heard. She was engaged in an energetic discussion with two other witches, just outside a room where a number of witches and familiars were going at it with a fair bit of energy, by the sound and the smell, and then the door opened, she charged in and hauled me in after by the scruff of my neck. I saw her start to slip out of her dress, then I turned and looked at the scene, with a sinking heart.

The most comfortable spot on the bed was occupied by an Angel, smoking what looked like caterpillars out of a hookah, and she was being… attended to by two witches and, and, and a very large, very male black dog. Meanwhile, a third witch was attending to the dog, while a fourth witch was servicing the third with a strap-on toy from behind, and off to the side, another cat familiar had his face buried in his mistress’s vulva, and… it was too much. I just had to get out of here, this was just too much crazy, too fast. I tried to turn, but came up against an invisible leash, and I heard Alice’s voice say, “Now, where are you going, boy? Come over here, we need you.”

And I could feel it happening again, the force of her will altering my mind, and even an erection forming again. A little tiny tomcat erection. And she crooked her arm, sitting there naked with her friends, and I was hauled toward them. I… well, what happened next… I don’t want to talk about it.

Humiliation? She thought the earlier mind control was humiliating? She should try this on for size.