Laura's Transformation

Chapter 20 : Little Lucy

Charles and Kate had finally gone through with it.

They were still relatively newly married. The early months had been full of quiet plans for children that the medical reports later erased. The loss had settled over their small house like dust. It was Charles’s father—practical, wealthy, and often away on overseas contracts—who had suggested the new legal avenue. A slave, properly trained and owned, could give Kate someone to care for and give Charles a living project he could shape. The older man had even insisted on paying, calling it a delayed wedding gift, and had transferred the funds to the facility account without further comment.

Charles remained nervous. Kate, for the first time in months, looked almost animated.

They completed the paperwork at the administrative desk, selected a brand design together—a small, elegant symbol that combined their initials with a simple ownership mark—and were escorted to the branding suite. Miss Elaina waited with the necessary equipment and a restrained, still-naked Laura.

Kate leaned close to her husband’s ear, voice low and uncertain.

“I want to sit on her face while it’s done. Let her scream into me. I want to feel it.”

Charles hesitated only a moment, then nodded.

“As long as I get to taste her afterward. And give her the first orgasm she’s been denied.”

They agreed. Miss Elaina registered the request without visible reaction and noted the permanent name change they had chosen: Little Lucy. She also quietly informed the new owners of the key hypnotic triggers installed during the Sarcophagus and subsequent conditioning, including the hard lock against orgasm without explicit permission.

Laura—now Lucy—was secured to a specialized branding frame on her back, legs spread and locked open, arms bound above her head. The area just above her vulva was cleaned and marked.

Two of them, she thought, heart hammering. Owners. Real ones. Please let me be enough.

Kate positioned herself over the slave’s face, settling her bare sex directly onto Lucy’s mouth and nose. The warm weight and intimate scent flooded her senses.

She’s using my mouth while they mark me. This is correct.

Miss Elaina heated the iron.

When the brand pressed into the soft skin above Lucy’s sex the pain was immediate and total. Lucy’s body convulsed. Her scream poured directly into Kate, muffled and wet. Kate ground down harder, riding the cry. The iron was lifted, leaving their chosen symbol burned clean and deep.

Charles did not wait for the burn to cool.

He stepped between Lucy’s forced-open thighs, one hand resting lightly on the hot, raised brand. With the other he touched her exposed, ringed clit.

Then he spoke the trigger phrase Miss Elaina had given him, voice calm and clear.

“Little Lucy. You will not cum until I give you permission.”

The words sank straight into the conditioning. Lucy felt the lock close inside her mind like a physical barrier. Her body was already desperate—months of denial, drugs, and the fresh brand had left her balanced on a knife edge—but the command held.

Charles began to lick her with slow, deliberate precision, circling the swollen clit, teasing the metal rings, occasionally brushing the tender edges of the brand. Lucy’s hips tried to buck; the restraints stopped her. She thrashed harder as the pleasure built without any path to release. Whimpers turned into broken, panicked sounds against Kate’s sex. Tears ran down her temples. Every muscle strained against the frame.

I need it—please—I can’t—he said not until permission—

The trigger held. The orgasm coiled tighter and tighter with nowhere to go. Her body shook violently, sweat slicking the leather straps, the brand throbbing under Charles’s palm as he continued the merciless, patient stimulation.

He drew it out until she was sobbing and thrashing in pure, mindless need, the hypnotic barrier the only thing keeping her from tipping over.

Only then did he lift his mouth just enough to speak.

“Now, Little Lucy. Cum for your owners.”

The lock released.

The orgasm tore through her with catastrophic force. She screamed into Kate, back arching hard enough to lift her shoulders off the frame, and squirted in strong, uncontrolled pulses across Charles’s mouth, chin, and coat. The intensity short-circuited everything; her eyes rolled and she went limp, unconscious.

When she swam back to awareness the room swam with her. The brand burned. The taste of Kate was still on her tongue. Her first coherent words were a hoarse, dazed apology.

“This slave… is sorry for soiling Master’s coat.”

Charles almost smiled. Miss Elaina stepped forward with a loaded syringe and pressed it into Lucy’s thigh. The anesthetic took hold quickly.

They’re sending me away. To them. The last clear thought floated upward as the drug pulled her under: I hope I can be good. I hope they keep me.

Little Lucy was packaged for shipping, marked with her new owners’ details, and sealed into the transport crate.

Whatever came next would be written on someone else’s terms.