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A trip to the adult bookstore.

..they can do the exact same thing.'

'And all it will do is make you feel awful.'


He smirked. 'A valid point. But not to worry pet-it won't be long before you love and adore your Master more than you ever dreamed you could love anyone.'

She dropped her head. 'As you say.'


That smirk she so despised returned.

'Well then,' he chuckled. 'That being the case, I guess we'll just do the things I enjoy until we can get past your barriers.'

He reached down and patted her head.

'Lucky for me, you look so lovely with my dick in your mouth-or with my cum all over your face.'

'As you say.'

'Master,' she replied, retreating back into herself.

One day, about a week after her return, he had tried to give her a massage.

In a quiet room, lit by soothing scented candles, he had layed her on the massage table, softly assuring her she would neither be punished or molested.

'I want you to realize the benefits and pleasures of being mine,' he had crooned as she stretched out on her stomach, stiff and trembling.

'I'm not licensed or anything, but I have taken massage classes, and I'm told I'm pretty good at it,' he continued as he poured some warm oil onto his hands.

But as soon as he touched her shoulders, she went rigid. Her jaw clenched, her fists clenched, even her toes were curled. It was like kneading wood.

He had taken a step back. 'Relax little one,' he murmured. 'Breathe slow and deep. This is for you to enjoy.'

She had tried-she really had. But again, as soon as he started trying to massage her she tensed.

He found the pressure points on her neck and shoulders that should have made her purr with pleasure, and it did no good. Her eyes were screwed so tightly shut it made her ears wiggle.

It was a counter productive disaster. By the time he finally gave up and told her to go shower and rinse off the massage oil, her muscles were actually cramping from being tensed.

He had tried seeing what happened if he got her to play with her sisters, hoping maybe she was more bi than she realized, and the softness of a woman might awaken her passions.

He couldn't have been more wrong. It was the one time she had demurred.

'Please Master, not that,' she had said quietly, tears in her eyes.

He gently stroked her hair as she lay on the bed, naked and spread at his command, as Rogue tried to rouse her with feather soft carresses and kisses on her legs.

Phyllis wasn't into girls at all. She had never even fantasized about it. She wasn't bigoted or homophobic-she just wasn't interested. Having to submit to another woman's lovemaking was far worse than being used by a male.

Her tears flowed endlessly as Rogue tried in vain to pleasure her. Finally, they gave up and let her go back to her room, and Dove practically sprinted away.

She remembered the day she had finally started to get some of her spirit back. He had come to her room and announced she had earned a reward for being obedient.

'You're trying Dove,' he said. 'I'm very pleased.'

And he had given her a gift-a piece of cotton cloth, cut into a sort of triangle shape, that she would be allowed to wear around her hips.

'Tie it at the left hip,' he instructed. It amounted to little more than a loincloth, giving her a small amount of modesty in front but leaving her backside bare.

She was appalled at how grateful she was, and put on the slave rag as eagerly as she had once put on her prom dress.

That was when she realized how far she had truly fallen, and how close she was to turning into another of his broken, destroyed playthings.

She still had to be very careful. She couldn't be openly defiant-her behavior hardly changed at all-but inside she rallied.

And then, last weekend, came the opening she'd been waiting for.

He had thrown a party. A group of about thirty of his friends and associates had come to the mansion. Phyllis and the other girls had been given the task of serving drinks and hors de ouvres.

'This is your debut, Dove,' he had said.

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