Ch 4: Going With the Flow

Robert came in with the bedpan and she carefully lifted her hips, wincing. He placed it underneath her and stroked her hair as she peed. It was all his now, and it flowed easily. He rinsed her carefully with the bottle of saline, warmed briefly like a baby bottle. It ran over her labia, stinging slightly in the wound but feeling good, feeling like love.

He removed the bedpan and emptied it in the bathroom. He returned with two ibuprofen and her water bottle. She swallowed the pills, and reached for his hand.

"Lay with me, please, Master?" she asked. He got into bed, careful not to jostle her, and lay next to her. She remained on her back, but put her head on his shoulder. He stroked her hair and they looked out the window as the day got dark.

--

The next afternoon, Chloe sat next to r on the bed, holding her hand. She was dressed, while r was wearing only her collar and a soft robe, which was open to expose the new piercing. A day and a half later, it was better, but she still didn't want to close her legs or walk very far. With a bedpan, Chloe had done the saline rinse and then asked if she should leave the room so r could urinate.

"If you could," she said. "I've learned with Robert but I'd rather not do it with you."

Chloe left and came back when r called her, taking the bedpan, emptying it and rinsing it out.

"What did you mean, learned?" she asked.

"As his property I don't decide on my own privacy," she said.

"Does he watch you?"

"He made learn to do it in front of him," r said. "It wasn't easy."

Chloe was quiet. "How do you feel about that?"

"I feel like property, Chloe," she said. "Can we not talk about this now? What I'm feeling is sore and horny."

"There's nothing I can do?"

"Not for a few days at least," r said. "Motion anywhere would hurt right now and it's better if I don't get too wet."

"Bummer to sit next to you with your legs spread and not be able to do anything," Chloe said.

"Yeah, really," r said. "But can we talk about something else?"

"Sure, I'm sorry. When do you go back to work?"

"I think I'll be OK on Monday," r said. "Or if not I'll work at home for a day or two."

Chloe nodded.

"I know this means you can't have me," r said. "And I can't do anything for you either. I'm sorry about that, but there wasn't any other way."

"Are you happy with it?"

"I love it, even the way it feels now," she said. "My owner had me pierced."

Chloe stroked her hair. "You'll never be the same."

"No," she said, happily. "But how are you doing, love?"

"I'm glad I'm here," Chloe said. "I'm glad you wanted me to be here."

"I needed you to be," r said. "I needed you to see this, to help me, to understand."

"I'm still not sure I do," Chloe said.

"Look at me," she said. "This is me." She raised her hips slightly, and lifted the ring on her collar. "You're seeing me for real. Nobody else."

She took Chloe's hand. "And you are here," she said. "And you are with me."

"Always," Chloe said.

--

A few weeks later, r turned on the overhead light and lay back on her bed, spreading her legs wide for Chloe, who looked closely at the ring and the small R that hung from it.

"It's beautiful," Chloe said. "Can I touch it?"

"Yes. Be gentle, but we've had regular sex and it's been fine," r said, lifting her hips. Chloe leaned forward and touched the ring with her tongue, lifted it, then encircled r's clit with her lips, running her tongue gently around and over the ring.

She looked up. "Can you masturbate?"

"I don't go crazy, but if I lift the ring up, it works," r said. "And now that it doesn't hurt anymore I squeeze my legs together sometimes, or press down on it. If I wear a skirt without underwear I feel it moving."

"You lift it like this?" Chloe said, gently turning the ring and watching how it moved in r's flesh. "And then you can just touch like this," she said, one finger moving around r's clit, then sliding down between her lips and entering her as Chloe's tongue teased her clit and the ring.

r moaned and lay back. Chloe was being overly gentle but it felt perfect, and she stroked her hair and floated along the gentle waves of sensation. Then Chloe was kissing her.

"You're marked, aren't you," she said, lifting the other R that hung at r's throat. The slave was wearing the heavy chain necklace that served as her collar in public. "Around your neck and between your legs."

"Yes," r said. "Marked as his."

The night before, as she knelt naked in front of him, her owner had shown her the new ring, with his initial attached, in a small velvet box.

"Look at this closely," he said. "Once it's between your legs you won't be able to see it so closely again."

She picked it up, turned it over. It was so small, so light, but hanging between her legs it would mean so much.

"It's beautiful, Master," she said. "I will be proud to wear it."

"Up here," he said, bringing a light closer. "Open your legs."

She lay back on the bed and spread for him. He went into the bathroom and washed his hands, then used alcohol pads to wipe her clit and the piercing location, and the new ring. With a small pair of pliers, he gently opened the old ring and removed it. Then he bent the new one open slightly and put the ball back in the case.

She could not see what he was doing, but remained still with her legs wide. She felt slight pressure but no pain, then the touch of something light, and he kissed her clit softly. She sat up and looked down, lifted the tiny R with her fingers. Attached to her, part of her, touching her most sensitive part, the mark of his possession, his mark through the flesh of his property. She bowed her head against his chest. "Thank you, Master. It's beautiful."

--

"I'll never get to mark you like that," Chloe said, lying next to r, their tastes in each other's mouths.

"And I'll never mark you like that," r said, touching the vivid bruises on Chloe's breasts, which Kevin had pulled and twisted and beaten the other day. They were still sore and Chloe had asked her to be gentle with them.

"You're marked so often, Chloe," r said. "I make love to you being careful of the marks he leaves on you."

Chloe turned her head, concern in her eyes. "I didn't know that bothered you," she said.

"It doesn't, sweetie," r said. "But you're not all mine either. And Chloe, you marked me years ago. You've been part of my life for so long."

Chloe kissed her, and reached between r's legs again. "It's very pretty," she said. "I like how you look."

"Want to do something with me I haven't done in a week or so?" r asked.

"What's that?" Chloe asked.

"Take a shower!"

Chloe laughed and jumped up. "I'd love to!" She really did love r's shower, the luxurious flow of endless hot water, nothing like her cramped, cranky and contrary shower at home. She ran into the bathroom to start the water. r followed, taking her robe off.

"What about your collar?" Chloe asked.

"The chain can get wet," r said. "If it was the leather I'd have to wait for him to get home."

Chloe took r's hands and pulled her under the water and kissed her. The water flowing down their bodies, between them, felt so good. Their soapy hands roamed over each other, half playful, half sexy. Chloe gasped when r slid a finger into her anus.

"Does that hurt?" r asked.

"A little," Chloe said, clenching herself on r's finger. "But don't stop." The finger moved in and out of her, and was joined by a second.

"Whoa, easy," Chloe said. She was very tight. The fingers slid out of her, but circled her opening, pushing in and out gently.

"Robert washes me like this sometimes before he fucks me," r said into Chloe's ear. "Only much deeper."

"How deep," Chloe asked, pressing her ass against the fingers, one of which slid back into her.

"Three or four fingers, or sometimes two on each hand," r said. "Up to the knuckles and then some." Chloe cried out as r's index finger went in almost that deep, but she didn't pull away. She moaned as the finger turned inside her, pressed against her vagina. When r's other hand started playing with her pussy and pushing into her, Chloe's movements got more urgent.

"I can feel my fingers inside you," r said, pinching them together inside Chloe, almost meeting through the flesh that separated her rectum from her vagina.

"Oh Rachele," Chloe moaned, "It hurts." And then she came, pushing and rocking on her friend's hands.

When her orgasm subsided, r slowly removed her hands. Chloe took them in her own, washing them. She could feel the water inside her. It splashed on her face as she lifted up to kiss r.

"I've never had that before," she said. "It feels so strange."

Chloe clung to her, letting the water run over her.

"Is the hot water going to run out?" she asked.

"No, baby," r said, pulling her close. "You can have all you want." Chloe couldn't see that some of the water on r's face was tears.

7

She stood in front of her owner, naked, save for the things she did not remove: his monograms at her throat and between her legs, and the ring on her finger.

She had texted him during the day with her news and asked if he would join her with her colleagues for a celebration. She no longer needed to bother with the job search. There had been a major reorganization, and several people including the CTO who'd made her miserable were out. She was now "chief product officer" which was a trendy title, but with real meaning: Along with the design group, the technology group would also report to her.

So he'd sat crammed into a booth with her, not speaking much, but watching her laughing and answering questions. At one point she turned quite serious, when someone asked, "Who are you going to fire?" Her antipathy towards some of the tech management was well known.

The table fell silent at that question, and she sipped her drink while everyone watched her, himself included.

"Nobody," she said. "I'll reorganize, jobs will change, people will have to learn new things. If they want to, I'll support them. If they don't, we'll support them in moving on. I'm done fighting with people. I'll listen to arguments if there's a case to be made. I'm going to make mistakes. But if I have to fight for respect, or I see people being bullied, or all that other stupid shit, I'll end it quick."

"That sounds like firing people," one of the guys said.

"You don't need to punish someone to bring a group to order," she said. "You show everyone where they're going and what you expect, and you give them a path to follow. If they can go with the flow and learn, fine, but if they want to hack through the underbrush, that's their problem. They'll leave on their own or be managed out. No temper tantrums, though. No Friday night massacre."

Robert sat back and looked how the table was reacting. The guy who'd challenged her had backed off, while others looked positively hopeful. She laughed to break the moment, and said, "Well, perhaps we'll massacre some more of these," raising her hand to order another round. The silver bracelet locked around her wrist flashed for a moment, and his R was framed in the opening of her shirt as she lifted her head.

He'd hire her to run one of his companies, he thought. In a flash. She'd had a lot to learn about slavery but leadership came quite naturally to her. The whole table looked to her, but he knew how she looked to him.

Afterwards they walked home holding hands; it was a warm night and the fresh air felt good after the bar.

"I'm really proud of you," he said. "I know how hard this was."

"You helped more than you might know," she said. "I mean, the advice and the strategizing and all the times you let me rehearse presentations, those helped. But there were a lot of bad days where I'd sit at my desk, and feel the plug in me, or the underwear I was wearing, or not wearing, and I'd hold onto that.

"I remember one day, sitting in an endless meeting trying very hard not to lose my temper, I was sitting there with my arms folded, definitely making my feelings known, but I was also pulling on the chain you'd put on my nipples."

"Really?" he said. "In the meeting?"

"It was under that double-breasted blazer," she said. "My fingers inside the lapel, just gently pulling, enough to feel it. I could focus on that and think about you keeping me under control."

"That's very hot," he said. "I wish you'd told me."

"I should have," she said. "It was a day. One of those where I needed you to be very strict when I got home."

He remembered those days, when she was clearly upset and on the verge of a rant, but knelt at the door and asked him to please gag her and bind her and quiet her down by force. Sometimes she would be trembling as he put her cuffs on, quieting only once she was spread-eagled on the bed, with his hands stroking her limbs.

When they got home, he stopped her from kneeling at the door. He led her into the living room and stood her in front of the couch. He took her hands one at a time and unlocked the bracelet and watchband from her wrists. He sat down, and she stood in front of him almost exactly as she had the first time she'd been here.

"Undress," he said. This time there was no awkwardness or uncertainty. She lifted each leg to remove her shoes. Then she unbuttoned her blouse, pulling it out of her jeans, and laid it next to her owner on the couch. Under that was a camisole, which she pulled over her head, baring her breasts. He rarely let her wear bras, not that she minded.

She laid the camisole on top of the blouse, then unbuckled her belt, pulled it out of her jeans, wound it, and laid it on the couch. Her Master did not want her clothes scattered all over the floor. She unbuttoned and unzipped the jeans and slid them down; they were snug but not extremely tight. She balanced on one foot, then the other, to remove them. She folded them in half and laid them on the couch.

A black g-string was all that remained, a small triangle of lace, showing off her shaved pussy, with a second opaque panel just at her opening. Behind, a single thin strap went between her buttocks. She hooked her fingers into the matching strap around her waist, and pulled them down. Again, she lifted one foot and then the other, and held them, waiting for instructions. Sometimes he wanted them in her mouth, but today, he indicated the couch and she laid them alongside the rest of her clothes.

She put her hands behind her back, lowered her eyes, and moved her feet apart to open her legs. She felt his eyes on her, then his hands, stroking her hair, down her back, along her legs, caressing her ass. He lifted her hands and she put them on her head. He stood behind her and put his hands around her throat, lifting the R there, then ran them down her body to the ring between her legs, lifting it gently. She was very wet now.

He unzipped his pants, freed his cock, and pushed her to her knees. He turned her by the hair, and entered her mouth without preamble. He held her head firmly, pushing in deep regardless of her gagging, and moved her mouth up and down on his cock. This wasn't service, it was fucking, and all she needed to do was let him have her throat.

"You're a vice president now, my love," he said, with the head of his cock in her mouth, his hands still gripping her hair. "I am very happy for you."

She looked up at him, with her eyes only since she couldn't move her head. With the head of his cock still in her mouth, she enunciated carefully, "I am your slave. Your slave is a vice president." He pushed her head back down, held it there while she worked, then attached her leash to the necklace. He lifted each hand and unlocked the bracelets there, putting them aside.

He lifted her head, dried his cock on her face and hair, then pushed her to all fours. He lead her by her leash to the bathroom, and into the walk-in shower that had acquired a new significance recently. She wondered if the housekeepers had any idea why he'd asked them to wash it with disinfectant every time now. He opened his pants again and she raised her head as he peed, opening her mouth and catching some of his urine and swallowing.

When he finished, he waited, and she knew what was expected. She spread her legs a little wider and urinated, watching her own pee flow down the drain, wondering if he'd push her face into it, but he didn't. Instead he turned on the water and tested its temperature. She remained on all fours, allowing him to move her limbs as he washed her, moaning when he spread her legs, then drawing a sharp breath when one finger, then several, went into her asshole. Lubricated with soap they slid in and out of her, turning, pushing in deeply.

"Down," he said, and she put her face on the floor of the shower, turning her face to the side to keep it out of the water. "Open yourself," he ordered. She reached back and replaced his fingers with her own, doing her best to hold herself open as he aimed the spray up her ass. It was less thorough than an enema, but required more of her active participation in preparing herself. He washed his hands, then hers, then ran the water over her again.

She lay, prostrated, her ass raised to him, water washing over her and down the drain next to her cheek. It got into her eyes and her nose and she sputtered a little, but then he lifted her head and dried her off. He wrapped her in the towel and brought her to bed and she raised her ass to him and he took her, took his time with her, took her slowly and deeply and fully, and when he moved her hand to her clit she orgasmed with him deep in her ass.

--

In the night she had to pee again. He'd relaxed the rules now that she was trained, so she didn't need to wake him or wait for him. She got out of bed quietly and sat on the toilet without turning on the light. She thought of the times he'd stood over her as she did this. She cleaned herself and went back to bed.

There was a wet spot on her side of the bed, a combination of his cum and anal lube and her own juices. She curled around it and ran her fingers through it, putting them into her mouth. His cum was in her belly as well. So was some of his pee. The thought made her wet again and she put her hand between her legs, gently playing with her clit and pushing the ring back and forth, its motion increasing her pleasure. But she knew she was not permitted to come, so she stopped and put her fingers back in her mouth.

She was a vice president. She had done it. And she was collared and owned, naked and marked and lying in his bed -- their bed -- with her fingers in her mouth. She fell asleep that way, adding some drool to the stains already there.