Bankrupt Ch. 01

The shower felt nice, like washing away a second skin of accumulated dirt and oil that had built up while I was unconscious. In deference to the instructions, I wore the shower cap as I cleaned everything else. A small intrusion, but otherwise it was a moment of welcome normalcy in an otherwise utterly abnormal week. For the first time, I began to regain my confidence, wondering if maybe this wasn't the end of the world after all.

It wasn't until I was nearly done showering that I noticed the other changes. I was nearly finished soaping my legs when I realized what I hadn't done. So far, I'd soaped, and applied some scented body lotion, but I hadn't shaved. There should have been four days of growth scratching up my hand as I lathered my skin. Instead, I found it smooth as the day I was born. As if I'd just finished shaving. No, more than that. There wasn't even the slightest hint of razor burn or stubble. A quick glance between my legs revealed it just as bare as my legs. In fact, there wasn't even the slightest trace of hair or stubble anywhere south of my eyebrows. When had this happened? The hospital? Somehow, I didn't think it was standard procedure.

I left the shower and found an outfit waiting for me. My new blue dress. Cute, but a hell of a thing to wear for my first day of this whole mess. In one moment, all of my fond associations were left in the dust. No longer was this the cute dress I'd bought in a Paris boutique, or that Emily and I had gushed over. Instead, it was the dress I'd wear for my first meeting. For my first day of this whole nonsense.

Then there was the underwear. A set I'd most certainly never worn with this dress. Tight, lacy, and nearly transparent. I'd worn them under my pants whenever I secretly wanted to feel sexy, but they were supposed to be a secret, damn it. Certainly, I'd never worn them anywhere they might be seen. And here they were, sitting with the outfit I was supposed to wear on the first night of my- my... enslavement. That couldn't be a coincidence.

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. A sudden, forced confrontation regarding the nature of my enslavement. The things that might be expected of me.

You knew what you were getting into, I told myself, though it did little to mollify me. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I told myself. Lots of girls love to do it, maybe I'll enjoy it.

Yeah, they enjoy it all right, but usually with a partner of their choosing. I'd only had one last choice, and I'd made it. The rest was out of my hands.

With one last sympathetic goodbye, the nurse delivered a room assignment into my hands. An assignment, and no name. A secret? I didn't understand, but at least it was for a dorm, and not some rich old man who wanted to bang a college girl.

The directions took me to the nicer wing of the school, into the swanky, upscale living quarters where the rest of us couldn't enter without an express invitation. The palm reader got me past the door. I guess I belonged there now, in the same sense his luggage did. Because I was a belonging myself.

Room 308. My mystery destination, my future. No where near Adam, who lived on the second floor. A curse or a blessing? I wasn't sure. I sought it out, and as I reached the third floor I began to wonder. I'd come straight here, no dawdling, no fuss. Did I just want to get this over with, or was something more sinister at work? As always, my thoughts and feelings were suspect. Yes, I felt horror at my situation, and that was most assuredly all me. But what about this curiosity? Was it a natural urge in the face of a mysterious and uncertain future, or were my thoughts no longer my own?

Not for the first time, I cursed myself for not reading more about implants. I knew the basics, that it was in my head, attached to my brain, and that it somehow enforced compliance with my new owner (a term I still wasn't used to). How it worked beyond that, I had absolutely no idea.

The rooms were spaced apart, each a luxurious three room suite, but eventually I reached the end of the hall. There it was, room 308. Most of the rooms had name placards, but this was empty. Another prank? It was beginning to wear thin, but the mystery was about to end. I put my hand on the door, and the reader recognized my print. At this point, I was so sick of all that secrecy that just about anything seemed better than not knowing.

The door opened, and I realized that it could get worse.

"No," I said, recoiling from the door. Anything but this.

There sat Victor, wearing nothing but a royal blue bathrobe, holding a glass of wine in his hand as he reclined in his easy chair.

He motioned me into the room, and any doubts about the chip's function rapidly vanished. Even as I tried to step back, a sensation swept over me. Floating, detached, like an out of body experience where I was trapped two steps from myself. Before I even understood what was happening, I found myself in the room, listening to the door shut behind me.

"What's the matter, Amanda," he said, "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"No, this isn't- you can't!"

"Shhhhh..." he said, and that was that. It wasn't that I couldn't talk. I could, or at least it felt like I could. At any moment I could open my mouth and speak, but I couldn't quite bring myself to do it.

He smiled, and that smile chilled whatever last vestiges of hope I'd held.

"So maybe you aren't happy to see me, but I'm very happy to see you. So happy, in fact, that I'd like to see all of you. Show me."

My hands moved without any conscious thought. It wasn't the chip moving them, though, it was me. A reflex, like reaching to catch a falling object. He had spoken, and obedience was the natural response.

No!

I forced my hands back to my sides, and in seconds that detached feeling returned. This time I was ready, and even though it felt like I was controlling my body from across a distant tunnel, I still controlled it. For all the good it did me.

I held myself there, refusing to give in even one little bit. It couldn't make me, and it didn't, but it could certainly influence how I felt about it. Like an oily, dripping pustulous film covering my skin. A growing sickness, a creeping itch that I knew exactly how to scratch. My brain understood what was expected of me, and it was WRONG of me to prevent it. W-R-O-N-G, capital letters and all. I could stall it as long as I liked, but deep down I understood that nothing would be all right until I complied.

My hands moved again, bit by bit. There was no particular moment I decided to give in. I wanted to resist, I meant to resist, but disobedience was so very unpleasant, and it seemed a simple thing to raise my hands back up. So much nicer when I let them untie the dress straps, and when my pretty blue dress finally hit the floor, I was overwhelmed by a sudden surge of relief.

See!, something in me seemed to cry Isn't everything so much nicer when you do what you're told?

The trouble was, it was true. In that first moment I felt so good, so free, that I forgot I was standing there in just my underwear. Even as I realized what I had done, the horror was accompanied by a simultaneous understanding that all was exactly as it should be.

Except, I wasn't done yet, was I. Even in the face of my relief, there was still a sense of incompleteness. All was better, now that I had removed my dress, but all wasn't quite well yet. Not until I finished obeying his command.

Obey or resist. The choice loomed stark before me. Could I bear another round of that? Was it worth it, when I knew I would just give in anyway? And yet, the thought of exposing myself to him was more loathsome than I could bear.

With a wave of his hand, he delayed my struggle, motioning in a circle for me to turn. I gladly obeyed, anything to put off that decision for another moment. It was disturbing how good it felt to follow his command.

"Very nice," he said approvingly, and I made an even more horrific discovery.

His opinion mattered. It mattered a lot. It was terrifying. Just a few days ago, he'd been nothing more than a creep with an overinflated ego. He was still that, but now he was a creep whose approval I desperately craved. Even though I knew better, I immediately flushed at his crude compliment. Smiling, giddy, there were butterflies fluttering about my stomach. I couldn't help myself. I desperately, urgently wanted him to like me.

"Excellent. Now, the rest."

I could have fought it, maybe I should have, but I didn't. My hands reached behind, and slowly started to unhook my bra. What could I do? I'd already learned the consequences of resistance. All it would accomplish was a load of unpleasantness, followed by inevitable surrender. Why not cut to the chase, and spare myself the pain?

My chip agreed. Wasn't everything so much nicer when I obeyed?

"Nice tits," he said with a leer as my bra joined the dress in a pile on the floor.

Oh what the hell! Even that one felt good.

My panties hit the floor soon after, and I stood to face him. Dueling impulses waged war within me. Here I was, in front of this loathsome maniac, the perverted little shit who got off peeping on helpless girls who wanted nothing to do with him. I hated him, I wanted to kill him. Or to cover myself from the shame of it all and run crying from the room. Yet at the same time, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was how it was supposed to be. I knew I should be raging, or covering myself, but I didn't. No matter what my head told me, it just didn't feel right to hide my body from him.

The bastard just grinned at me. Tossing his head back, he took another sip of his wine.

Damn him, what the hell did he want from me? Why wouldn't he just say something already?

Another pause, a long, lingering silence filled with nothing but his frank regard. Fuming helplessly, I just stood there.

Then he spoke.

"Down," he said, and I sank to my knees. Only remembering when I was on the floor that I was supposed to be fighting this perverted jackass. The words were soft, almost casual. There was no sternness, no sharp commanding presence that demanded compliance by its very cadence. If anything, there was an amused glint, a chuckling joke I wasn't quite in on, and yet it still held more force than a drill instructor screaming next to my ear.

I thought about getting up, but somehow that seemed worse than staying here on my knees. I knew that was the chip talking, but could do nothing about it.

"All fours," he said, "Crawl. Crawl to me, hands and knees, all the way across the room."

I fell to the ground, breasts swinging pendulously as I dropped forward without any support. He chuckled, damn him. He was enjoying this.

This time, I managed to fight it for all of about five seconds. Again, that terrible, sickening wrongness, and again I crumbled. Each awkward step was another defeat, another reminder of the power he had over me. Of how pointless it was to resist, and how wrong I was to even try.

In close, he loomed over me. A god, a titan. All a lowly mortal like me could hope for was to lift my gaze up towards his dazzling heights. How much was from the chip, and how much the inherent inequality of our positions. Certainly none of it came from any virtue he possessed. I knew it, but I didn't feel it.

"Up," he said, lifting his hand slightly.

"Sit," he commanded again. "Stay. Good girl."

If only I could kill with a glare, that bastard would be an oozing puddle on the floor. Instead, I obeyed.

"I. Hate. You."

I said it through clenched teeth, immediately regretting my words, but I sure as hell stood by them. That jackass only smiled.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he said, patting my head. Fucking hell, why did that feel so good? I really did hate that little shit.

"Do you know what we're doing right now," he said to me.

"Proving just what a little shit you are?"

Oh god, had those words really come out of my mouth? You can't say things like that to him, you just can't! No, that was the chip talking. Stay strong, you meant exactly what you said, and he deserved every bit of it. And more. But it sure didn't feel like he deserved it. In the pit of my gut, it felt like I was the naughty one.

"We're training, that's what we're doing. It's nothing but simple reinforcement, just like any animal. You have to learn how to be a good little girl. How to act, how to behave. Your owner's likes and dislikes. And do you know what I dislike? I hate it when somebody tells me no."

I flinched back from the venom in his voice, immediately guilty. Wait, that wasn't right. I had nothing to be ashamed of. There was nothing in the world wrong about turning him down for a date when I already had a boyfriend. He was the one who should have apologized, not me.

"But that's ok," he said, suddenly smiling. "You're never going to refuse me again, isn't that right?"

"Y-yes," I admitted.

"What was that? I believe the correct response was 'Yes, sir'. Get it right."

"Yes, sir," I spat through clenched teeth, but the words didn't leave a sour taste in my mouth. Quite the contrary. It was perfectly alright to say that. It was true, wasn't it? I wasn't going to fight anymore. I was going to be a good girl.

Stop that!

I shook my head frantically, hair splaying across my face, but it accomplished little besides amusing Victor.

"Oh, this is too great. You and I are going to have such fun together. Speaking of which, it's time for you to turn around. On all fours again, if you please."

No. He wouldn't. He couldn't!

Somehow, I found myself on the ground again, my rear lifted enticingly in the air. He never even had to tell me, but he'd sent me down on all fours, and from his tone I understood exactly why. From that first moment of understanding, I knew just how I had to present myself. It wasn't just the letter of his command I was compelled to follow. I knew what he wanted alright, and in knowing came the desire to fulfill.

"Please," I begged, the last traces of my pride vanishing. I'd told myself I wouldn't beg, and the chip reminded me that begging was another form of disobedience, but I continued anyway.

"Please, you can't. I'm a- I mean, I've never-"

I trailed off, afraid to finish, even now ashamed to admit my inexperience. My chip congratulated me on stopping. There was no place for complaints in compliance, unless that was what my owner desired.

"Oh, how precious. My little pet slut is a virgin, is she? Let's fix that, shall we?"

I heard his robe rustle, and looked back, but a sharp command sent my head forward once more. Trembling, I cursed myself for not being strong enough. The door was right there? Just a few steps, and I'd be out the entrance. Why didn't I get up? Why didn't I run?

I could. It would be so easy, too, but I didn't. It wouldn't be right.

The waiting was the hardest. Anticipation, listening to him move behind without being able to see what was happening. I yelped, startled as he slapped my ass. In the back of my mind, I realized that this was the first direct contact between us, and what a way to start. Yet even then, moving never really occurred to me.

Just when the sting began to fade, I felt his hands on me again. Touching, groping, caressing. He felt me up, taking my body in, possessing it all, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. This was his right, and all I could do was let him use me as he pleased. It wasn't right. I was a person, damn it, not a possession.

His hands withdrew, and just for a brief moment hope flared that he might have reconsidered. Then I felt it, pressing against my opening.

"No, wait! I- Ooof!"

In one quick thrust, he plunged into me, driving the words from my mouth. This wasn't the first time I'd had something in me - that privilege went to the vibrator I'd affectionately nicknamed "the purple monster" - but his entrance was sudden, hard, and I wasn't at all prepared for it.

My stomach heaved at his touch, at the very idea of someone so vile, so awful being anywhere near me, never mind inside of me. Clutching my hips, he began pumping in and out of me. No feeling, no tenderness, just using me as a convenient target for his own gratification. This wasn't right, when had everything gone so horribly out of control. It was Adam I was supposed to be with. My first time was supposed to be different. Tender, romantic, the touch of my love's hand as he slowly slid inside of me, an act of passionate intimacy, not this carnal debauchery. How I cursed my hesitancy, so scared, always waiting for the moment to just a little more perfect. What a fool I had been.

And yet, that familiar duality raged within me. Adam's touch had never set my skin afire the way Victor's clawing possession did. Our shared intimacies never even coming close to the raw, physical need I now felt. I gasped, moaning as Victor plunged deep within me. He didn't miss my reaction.

"You like that, don't you slut," he slowed briefly to massage my breast, and despite everything I whined with need.

"Yes," I admitted, "Oh god, yes!"

"That's a good girl," he said, and I shuddered in carnal bliss.

My face hit the floor, ass in the air as I pushed back against him. I still loathed the bastard, despised him, but I needed him too. What in the hell was wrong with me?

"You filthy tramp," he said, "I want to hear you say it. Tell me what a little slut you are."

"What? I- No! I won't-"

"Beg, bitch. Tell me how much you want to cum, how much you love having my dick inside you."

Never! I'd never do it. Never demean myself like -

"Please!" I cried, unable to help myself. "Oh fuck, I've never wanted anything more in my life."

"You love having your pussy stuffed, don't you slut."

"Yes! Oh fuck, yes! I've never been so turned on in my life."

"Not even by your loser boyfriend."

"No!" I screamed, tears flowing from my face as I admitted the truth. No matter how much I'd loved Adam, I'd never felt this kind of raw desire for him, not even once. I hated Victor, but I loved getting fucked by him.

"That's right, bitch, take it all in. Tell me how much you love it."

"I need it! Fuck me, please, fuck me. I need you inside me so bad!"

He paused, withdrawing cruelly from me. I cried out, pressing back against him and finding no purchase. There was only need now, just desperate, animal lust.

"Cum for me, Amanda," and then he drove all the way in.

I came, spasming hard as my vision whited out around me. Nothing else mattered. In that one brief moment, there was only him, and me, and that glorious cock filling me up. I'd never felt anything like that, certainly not from Adam. Somehow, I knew that this feeling came only from Victor, and nothing else could truly satisfy me ever again.

Sensation threatening to overwhelm me, but somehow I held myself up. No matter what I felt, I wasn't done yet, not until he was satisfied. It was all too much, every fiber of my body was on fire with overwhelming bliss. From the electric tingles from each strand of his soft carpeting as they rubbed against my face, to the aching fullness I felt every time he thrust his cock into me. I loved it, every terrible second of it.

"It's almost a shame," he said between grunts, "that I can't override the school's contraceptives. It might be amusing to see you grow big with a brat in your belly. Oh well, something to revisit after graduation."

I gasped, almost surprised that anything could still shock me. Now, more than ever, I realized just how much my life had fled beyond my control. Even this, the most personal and intimate of decisions, was now his to make. It was hopeless, he had won. I might as well bow down and accept his rule.

No! I couldn't let myself think that. No matter what the law said, or my chip, nor even what my traitor body was telling me (Oh, it felt so good!). I would not lie down and surrender. I was a person, damn it, not some possession. I would fight, and somehow, some way, I would win. Then he would suffer.