What Became of Me

Petra lounged and stretched with a cheerful sideways glance at me as I was tied down almost immobile in my chair.

“I hope you have a refreshing drink in the fridge. I’ll be so free and help myself. Actually, it would be your job to entertain a distinguished guest, but you seem to be unable to do so at the moment. But it’s good to stretch the legs every now and then. You should try that too!”

Petra giggled as she left for my kitchen. She returned with a glass of water. One glass. Of course, nothing for me. I hadn’t drunk anything since breakfast. I stared at the glass in her hand as she put it to her lips.

“Oh, you want some too?” she said, ostensibly surprised.

I nodded.

“Well, the way your pussy is leaking, you definitely need a lot of fluids. It’s just that I’m not your servant, so I’d have to ask for compensation. A service fee, so to speak. Is that what you want?”

I was pretty thirsty, but I didn’t know what to expect and Petra had announced that I would have to pay a price for watching porn together. With a heavy heart, I decided to shake my head.

“Very well, your decision.”

Petra reached behind her and held one of my gags, a ball gag with a red latex ball, in front of my nose.

“Unfortunately, the thing is that the service fee is due for the offer itself, not just when the offer is accepted. Maybe I should have mentioned that. But anyway: open your mouth, ungrateful bitch!”

I opened my mouth obediently, if a little perplexed. Petra pushed the ball gag in forcefully and strapped it tight. Then she put her feet on my desk and enjoyed a sip of water. The whole affair had been unfair, of course, but my stupid cunt dripped with enthusiasm: “You see, there is no fairness for pathetic horny whores like you.” Petra’s happy face was a small compensation. This meanness had obviously given her great pleasure.

“Let’s see what else you have chosen for this porn marathon.”

Petra started the second film. This one lasted an hour and ten minutes, as I discovered in a fit of panic.

The movie was part of a slave training series. The slave in training had to do heavy physical labour: carrying massive, long wooden beams back and forth, moving a pile of rubble with a shovel and wheelbarrow. She was driven by a kind of drill sergeant with orders and lashes.

The work slave started in jeans, bra, work boots and work gloves. But bit by bit she lost articles of clothing during work breaks, first her bra, then her jeans. During these breaks the slave was also groped and stimulated with a vibrator.

After the second break, when the now bare-breasted slave was supposed to carry more beams and the order was heard: “Get to work, slut!” Petra leaned forward and looked at me. “Interesting choice. Extremely interesting choice.”

Petra leaned back again, but placed her hand on my thigh, just inches from my over-excited pussy. My breathing stopped for a moment. But the hand remained motionless.

Erotically charged forced labour has been one of my most common erotic fantasies for some time. I could hardly imagine anything more humiliating than being reduced to a labour slave, doing only the simplest menial work of a physical nature. Rushed for no reason. Doing pointless work. Carrying things there, then back again.

The work slave was now ordered to hold one of the heavy wooden beams above her head. As she did this, the drill sergeant pulled down her jeans and began stimulating her with a vibrator.

“This makes you horny? Forced labour?”

Petra’s voice didn’t sound derogatory, but rather pleased. I hoped that was not just wishful thinking.

The drill sergeant announced that he would bring the slave to orgasm as she continued to hold up the heavy beam. It was quite arousing to see her body approaching release under the unfamiliar strain, shaking violently and panting louder and louder. When the slave was about to cum, Petra picked up some pussy juice from between my labia with her index finger and began to rub it very slowly over my exposed clit. I screamed into the ball gag in pain and pleasure, reaching an almost instant edge.

A longer scene followed in which the slave shovelled rubble into the wheelbarrow and drove it to another part of the yard. Meanwhile, Petra’s hand rested motionless on my thigh. But in the following scene the slave was forced to orgasm again. When the climax was unmistakably imminent, Petra lightly tapped my clitoris a few times. My body twisted desperately but in vain in its bonds, my scream of pain and pleasure was quite loud and animalistic despite the gag. My pussy twitched hectically a few times, then the edge subsided.

Several wheelbarrow-loads later the work slave was forced to orgasm again. The drill sergeant held her back at first – “Not yet! Not yet!” – but finally commanded: “Cum!” The body in the film twitched and moaned, the bound body in the chair twitched and screamed as Petra gently stroked my clitoris while ordering “Edge for me, you horny bitch!” A flush of spit poured down my chest as I was trying to catch my breath again.

In the last long sequence the slave was first whipped and then – as perhaps expected by now – forced to orgasm. Three times in a row. With a vibrator, with fingers, then again with the vibrator. This time, however, Petra’s hand remained still on my thigh.

“I can only repeat: an extremely interesting selection”, Petra finally said when the movie was over. “I have a few ideas on the topic and will think about it.” She drew back her hand from my thigh. I grunted in disappointment.