Losing Her Self Ch. 01

This is a story that does not cleanly fit into any one niche available on this site. Like life, it's a messy situation. SPOILER ALERT! I believe it is primarily BDSM with a non-consent twist, however, I am reclassifying in order to not have to delete the same "Anonymous" comment every day. Thank you for reading!

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Camille stared long and hard into the motel mirror, perfecting an expression that expressed a stern confidence she really, really didn't feel. "This is the last time," she swore to herself as she adjusted her breasts in the red leather corset she wore and slipped on the matching half mask, careful not to smudge the heavy liner and mascara her twin sister had so expertly applied before flitting off with a careless thank you. She shook her head. How did Lily always manage to talk her into covering for her when she double booked? Camille was a quiet high school art teacher, not an "adventurous" escort like her sister and this time Lily really had gone too far in the favor she'd asked.

Camille on occasion would meet one of her sister's tamer clients in a pinch, but she had always staunchly refused to be the Domme that her twin was making a name for herself as. If it weren't for the fact that Lily said she could keep the entire fee for tonight she would never have agreed, but her school's supply budget had been slashed to nearly nothing, and a few hundred dollars would go a long way to making sure she could do her job properly.

A sharp series of knocks on the door startled her and she took a deep breath before carefully plucking her way across frayed and stained shag carpet in 5 inch stiletto heeled knee high boots, also red to match the corset and mask. She didn't even want to guess how much cash her sister had dropped on the whole coordinating get up that for reasons she would never understand also included leather panties. Opening the door she barely managed not to let her mouth gape open at the sight of the tall, muscular demigod standing before her. This man with his icy blue eyes, chiseled jaw bearing a day's worth of stubble and slightly messy brown hair wanted to be bound, spanked and violated with a strap on? She could more easily picture him ravishing a virgin on a pirate ship than to be on the receiving end of her sister's wicked ministrations.

"Hello, Dylan," she purred, lowering her voice slightly to more accurately match Lily's sultry tones. "You're late."

"Yes, Lady Sin, I got stuck at work." His head tilted to one side slightly as he passed by her and she shut and locked the door. "Your hair—"

"It's a wig," Camille said quickly, then bared her teeth in the evil grin her sister used when she was Lady Sin. The lie was easier every time she told it. While Lily had begun sporting a spiky platinum blond 'do, to enhance her tough bitch demeanor, Camille preferred the natural honey blond they'd been born with, wavy and cascading down her back to her bottom and refused to give in to her sister's repeated pleas to change her hair so she could cover for her more easily.

"It's very flattering, reminds me of when I first met you, milady," Dylan said as he began methodically removing his clothing, saving his slacks for last, exposing a pair of tiny, lacy baby blue hipster panties. Her sister had reviewed how the evening would go with her half a dozen times but Camille still had to school herself not to be shocked that this man had worn women's underwear all day under his expensive suit. According to Lily, Dylan Cale was her most devoted client and she had to be very, very careful not to let him know he was in the hands of an imposter tonight.

"Good boy," she said, sliding her hand lightly over the bulge in the front, "however, late is late, no matter the reason and sweet words are not a fitting substitute for respect. You were seven minutes late for me, therefore after your routine paddling there will be seven extra swats. Understood?" His cock hardened under her hand.

"Yes, milady, give me what I deserve for being so inconsiderate."

"You can be sure that I will. I'm going to treat you like the dirty sissy boy you are deep inside." She practically had to stand on tip toe, even in the killer heels, to whisper huskily into his ear and was rewarded with a deep throated growl as his cock jumped against her hand. She gave him Lily's smile again, then moved over to the table and picked up a cock ring.

"Take off your panties and put this on. Then you may go bend over the table." She watched him slip the ring down his shaft to the base, then adjust the bottom part so his balls were also squeezed tight. She had to be very careful not to stare hungrily at his dick, probably the most beautiful she'd ever seen. Only about six and half inches in length, but nice and thick, the head perfectly formed and only a bare hint of curve to one side. She could see why Lily liked him so much.

Like a big cat sauntering through the jungle Dylan walked over to the table by the curtained window and leaned over, resting his torso against the speckled Formica, wrists and hands dangling off the edge near 2 of the table legs. Camille took 2 sets of handcuffs and knelt to secure each of wrists to the table legs with them, giving him a peek down what was quickly becoming an excruciatingly tight corset. Seriously, she couldn't understand a how woman could feel sexy in one of these things.

"Blindfold, gag?" she offered, per her sister's instructions that he liked to mix things up sometimes.

"No. I can control myself tonight." She nodded, staring directly into his eyes for just a moment, before standing and allowing him to watch her slip on the harness with the dildo she'd soon be filling him with. Lord, that's a weird feeling, she thought as it bounced with every move she made. Camille picked up the nearly foot long wooden paddle, and walked around the table to stand behind him, then waited. And waited. And waited. According to Lily's coaching he had to ask for his punishment. Just as she was starting to wonder if she should check his breathing, he spoke.

"Milady is very patient tonight. May I have please have my punishment now?"

"Yes, and then another extra swat for impertinence."

"Yes, milady." He turned his head a fraction to look back at her and she glared at him until his gaze returned to the cheap watercolor on the wall. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her arm back and then brought the paddle down with a crack on his shapely ass that to her sounded as loud as a gunshot. He barely grunted and she pulled back again, mentally coaching herself that this was what he wanted, and she had no reason to feel guilty for hurting him. Again and again, she swatted him, counting in her head, first the "normal" 40 and then another eight for the tardiness and lip he'd given her. Her heart was racing when she could finally put the paddle down, and she felt slightly sick to her stomach. Hurting people wasn't in her nature, and his muffled grunts of pain sent needles of guilt spearing into her conscience.

"Thank you, milady," Dylan panted. "Please may I have my pleasure now? I've been thinking about your cock all week."

"Of course, darling. Over all you've been a good sissy boy for me. She lightly patted the ass she had just paddled, amazed at how much heat radiated from it. She really didn't have any experience with this, and it was getting harder to conceal how little she actually knew. Tottering to a nearby chair she pulled a tube of lubricant from her sister's bag of tricks, giving her fingers a generous coating, she held her breath as she inserted a finger into Dylan's ass. Another first. Gently she worked lube into him as he moaned. Then she slicked some more over the strap on dildo and slowly replaced her finger with the thick cock. She could see his jaw clenching as she filled his ass and scraped her fingernails down his back. Pleasure with an edge, Lily called it, laughing as Camille had shook her head. She just didn't get it. There was pleasure and there was pain, black and white, no in-between.

"Please, Lady Sin, fuck me faster," Dylan panted, bringing her back to the job at hand. Just a little longer she reminded herself. Once he came she would release him from the cuffs and kick him out the door so she could be herself again. She pumped him for what felt like forever, his groans and pleadings wearing on her until at last he whispered a hoarse "I'm cumming, milady" and let his seed loose over the surface of the table. She pulled out slowly and then fished the key for the handcuffs from a tiny pocket on the corset. As she knelt to release him she cooed hateful words as her sister had instructed. She had spouted some "psychological" reasoning for her verbal abuse with a sweet tone, but Camille had blanked out as much as she could. She really, really didn't need to know about this. Lily might be the only family she had left, but it was time to admit that they needed to break ties. She just wasn't cut out for this insanity.

"You may get dressed now," Camille told him as he slowly stood up straight, eyes a little glazed. She was more than ready to strip off the leather and the makeup, go home and cry into a pint of ice cream.

"I just have one question, milady," Dylan said, moving towards her, changing the scenario she'd been given. In a blink his hand was fisted in her hair, pulling her head back at an awkward angle. "Who the fuck are you really?" His eyes, so icy earlier in the evening now reminded her of the pilot light on a gas stove, hot and intense, burning into her own hazel eyes that she was sure were about as full of fear as they could be as the motel room door opened.

"Mmmmm, my little caveman. Happy birthday, darling."

Camille tried to look over at her sister, but Dylan still held her too tightly to move without hair being ripped out of her scalp, so instead she just stared at his face, watching his mouth thin and tighten in anger as his head turned.

"Dammit, Lily, I don't like surprises and you know it." He let go of Camille's hair and pushed her away just hard enough for her to stumble and fall to the carpet. She had to move quickly to avoid being stepped on as he stalked over to confront her sister. How on Earth could a buck ass naked man be so intimidating?

"Are you finally trying on the madam role? Gonna bring in a few girls to fuck the guys who bore you? And where the hell did you find this one? She's pathetic as a Domme."

Lily laughed. "We shared a uterus for 9 months. Sometimes I tell her that I'm in a bind and overbooked and really need help. The stupid sap falls for it every time. This is the only time she said no and meant it because she doesn't like being a mean bitch, until I told her I would give up the entire fee so she could go buy finger paints and Play-Doh."

Camille was struck by Lily's harsh words. She supposed she had always known that was how her sister viewed her but it still stung to hear it out loud. "I teach high school art," she said emphatically as she pulled herself back up to a standing position and removed the mask. "The supplies my students need are a little pricier than finger paints and Play-Doh, Lily, and this", she swirled a hand in the air, "is never happening again. In fact, just forget you have a sister."

"Oh yes it will happen again, anytime I say, and you aren't leaving yet, unless you really want every person on the school board to get a copy of a lovely little film that you have a starring role in."

"What are you talking about?" Camille paled when her sister started to laugh and then walked around pointing out all the places she'd hidden cameras sending a digital feed to a friend of hers to be edited.

"Now, Dylan likes to be dominated, but only occasionally, in fact, only one time a year. However, he really, really likes putting stupid naïve girls in their place, but of course I'm neither and I'm so over pretending I can be. So I thought I'd let him have a little fun with you."

"You evil, heartless, sadistic bitch." Camille tried to move to slap her sister's face, but the deadly heels finally got to her and she tripped falling onto one of the beds. Dylan took the opportunity to pounce, and cuffed her hands behind her as she began to cry, realizing just how screwed she was. Her sister now had the ultimate blackmail material and Camille could kiss her freedom, her chance at a respectable life, goodbye.

Lily only laughed again. "Have fun with her, Dylan. Make her do all sorts of nasty things for the cameras. I'll make sure to send you a copy of the highlights."

"You'll send it all to me," he told her. "Edited and raw footage. In fact," he stood and walked over to his clothing and pulled his wallet from one pocket, took out a stack of bills, and handed it to her, "here's a down payment for the slut. I'll wire $100,000 to your account in the morning for the footage, and you WILL NOT be keeping a copy of any of it. I've wanted another slave for a while and this one seems like she'll be...fun... to train."

Lily grinned evilly. "Pleasure doing business," she said, pocketing the wad of cash and blowing Camille a kiss. Once she was gone, Dylan came back over and stood over her, his cock rock hard and throbbing, and his eyes once again icy cold.

"Please don't do this," Camille sobbed. "Please. I'm just an ordinary woman who wants a simple life. Please, let me go. I'll pay you back. I'll find a way, just please let me go."

"Shut up, cunt. You can keep crying, but I don't want to hear another word out of you right now. I don't like being made a fool of." He stroked his cock a bit, his eyes assessing every bit of her body, then he began to strip her of the restrictive leather, starting with the boots, then the corset, and though she continued to sob, it was partly in relief at being able to take a full breath again.

"It was the outfit that gave you away first," he said. "Lily always wears black leather pants and a leather vest. She loves to butch it up."

"She made me wear it," Camille said to defend herself, and was rewarded with a sharp smack to the ass he had just uncovered. He worked the leather panties the rest of the way down her legs and tossed them to the floor and looked at her.

"I meant it, cunt, not another word unless you are answering a question. Then your hair. I offered her a substantial amount of cash to grow it back out and she refused." He turned tender for just a moment as he stroked the top of her head, then he walked back to his pants and pulled out his smart phone and came back to snap a few pictures of her, naked with legs sprawled, and the make-up—God only knew how much of a mess that would be now with her tears. Then to torment her a little more, he turned the screen so she could see just how much of a disaster she was.

"Day one, cunt." He laughed as she flinched, as she had each time he called her that. "I'm glad you don't like that. Makes you feel worthless, doesn't it?" He pinched a nipple, hard, and Camille bit her lip to not cry out. "Of course it does. You hated every second of pretending to be your whore sister. You're meek and sweet I would imagine, always helping others. What did you want to do when you were done with me tonight?" He pinched her nipple again when she didn't answer.

"I was planning to go home, cry in a long, scalding hot shower and eat ice cream while watching a movie," she told him quietly as he stroked a hand down her stomach and then between her legs, toying with her pussy lips.

"Pathetic," he said with a mirthless laugh. "When I'm done training you, your idea of the perfect evening will involve group sex and bondage."

"No, it won't. Please, I am begging you to let this go," she said, struggling against the cuffs. He slapped her and turned her over onto her stomach, pressing her face into the mattress so hard she could barely breathe.

"Don't be stupid, cunt. You're mine now and I will mold you into what I want you to be. It won't be long before you do whatever I tell you to. In fact, in three months you will be begging me to treat you like a whore. We could be back in this room, with you spread eagle on this bed as I bring in a parade of men and women to use your dirty little pussy. Thirty's a good number. Thirty cocks, dildos and fists abusing your slutty body. If I'm back on speaking terms with your sister I may even invite her to take a turn."

She tried to speak, to call him a sick, perverted bastard, but of course, just breathing was difficult, and he made it worse my climbing on top of her and shoving his dick into her pussy, still mashing her face into the bed.

"Keep fighting me, cunt, it's only going to make this harder for you." He let her lift her head up, but only to put her in a headlock. As he fucked her furiously, saying the dirtiest, foulest things anyone had ever said to her, he squeezed with his arm, cutting off her air supply. As she blacked out, she could feel her pussy spasm around him in orgasm, and part of her hoped she would never wake up.

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Dylan dressed and looked over his new slut as she lay passed out on the bed, aided in part by sleeping pills crushed into a glass of water after she'd come to from his choking and part from him fucking her to exhaustion over several hours. He had removed the cuffs after filling her full of cum twice, then managed to take her a third time while she slept. After some searching he found her purse tucked away in the bathroom and given all the information about her home and work to his security team to keep a discreet eye on her. They were even now in the act of placing cameras and microphones in her apartment and classroom so he could watch her, learn her.

Her name was Camille. He liked the sound of it, liked how it suited her, and hoped that she would stop fighting him sooner rather than later to earn the privilege of him calling her by that instead of cunt or cumslut or whore. She was also very pretty, even prettier than Lily when they had first met 5 years before. The evil twin's hard living had aged her while Camille could still pass for a girl of 19 or 20 instead of the 27 she actually was. He heard her moan, starting to come around again and quietly slipped out the door. He had all of her contact information, and had programmed his cell number into her phone under Master to remind her that he was in charge of her life from now on.