The Young Master (Rated R)

2.11

The truest, purest expression of his love filled my raw, ravished hole and seeped into my bloodstream through busted capillaries, traveling to heart and head and mutating them, making my heart beat only for him, making every thought of him...making me a living valentine to Dirk. I fell back into his arms as he lowered me to the floor, his love still hard and oozing inside me, feeling so small and safe in his embrace...and then feeling the cold hard reality as he dropped me unceremoniously to the floor. "Urk!" a hurt, animal whimper was forced from my lungs as the air was knocked out of me. My puppy luv buzz was fading fast, replaced by sore muscles and stabbing regret, reminding me I was all too real. If I was a reflection of his love, it was only symbolically...filthy, fleeting, and quickly forgotten. The crystal clarity of a hard cum down cut into me deep, letting me see Dirk as he really was...

He leered down at me with smug satisfaction, an awful look of amused disgust dripping from his face along with the sweat of his full body workout. He didn't love me, he wasn't capable of it...well not in any meaningful sense. He loved me the way he loved a good steak...I existed for his enjoyment, and it didn't matter if I was left chewed up, degraded and digested, and expelled from his warmth. I realized that all the love I had felt for him was a lie, that I had been seeing him with cum coated glasses, creating the Dirk I wanted...no needed...the Dirk that I could love without shame or regret. And now that I saw he was just a wet dream, all of the feelings I tried to push away came rushing in to devour me.,,and Dirk just watched, laughing at the cum catching cliche. I tried to put my sobs together to form a coherent sentence, but I couldn't think over the blaring of the alarms...and that's when the other foot dropped...squishing me like a bug...

"Come with us, sissy!" gloved hand reached down for me and dragged me away from Dirk's contemptuous smirk. I might have forgotten the alarm in my mindless rutting and morose regret, but apparently they hadn't. 'They'...it seemed the only appropriate name for them...two total strangers, cloaked in shiny black rubber from head to toe, floor lab coats, gloves, and a skull cap tight cowl. Their eyes were two empty caverns formed by dark mirrored shades...the only flesh on them was their mouth, tight lipped grimaces stretched over powerful jaws. I wondered what kind of messes they had to clean up in those get ups, and immediately regretted my curiosity, bloody screaming images flooding my head. I spent the rest of the long slide towards certain doom trying to imagine anything else, with less and less success. By the time I reached my destination: a bland, featureless room, empty save for the chair I was rudely tossed into and strapped down in, I was reducing to a whimpering stream of unintelligible apologies...

After they made sure I was completely helpless, they left me alone...or so I thought. A voice rang out behind me, "Good morning, Belle. I see punctuality isn't one of your strong suits. Of course, we haven't found any strong suits yet, but that's what we're here for. Now, we'll take care of your tardiness after the lesson, so let's get started with your French lessons." I strained my head, but I couldn't turn it far enough to get a look. He was only a disembodied voice to me, but instead of making him seem weightless or intangible, he became more substantial...filling my imagination until he was a homunculus of every nightmare I ever had stitched together into a shambling mess...a nightmare with an eerily soothing voice. Soothing...and familiar...like the sound of my conscience. 

I tried to figure out what was going on, managing a stammering, "buh buh But I don't nuh nuh know any French." I heard a soft, gentle laugh behind me that chilled me to the bone. It was strangest thing...his voice was so kind, but some how that made him even more terrifying than if he was screaming and snarling. Like he didn't have to try to intimidate me, like he didn't even care if he scared me or not, because he was going to make me do whatever he wanted whether I was afraid or not. "Oh you won't learn how to speak French. Our clients don't want a girl that speaks French, it's alienating and embarrassing for them when they don't speak French. No, our clients want a girl that barely speaks English. So we're going to give you an accent with a smattering of French words with no regard for grammar or syntax. All you'll have to do is close your eyes, calm down, and let me start the lesson." All of the sudden, Sakura's broken English and equally broken Japanese. I didn't want to end up a cartoonish caricature like her or the others...I tried to resist, tried to keep my eyes open, determined to struggle to my last. But my lids where so heavy...I had to rest them...just for a second...

...

"There we go. That wasn't so bad, now was it?" My eyes snapped open a second later. I didn't know what he was talking about. How could he have taught me something in a second, especially since he didn't say anything? I didn't want to make him angry, but I wasn't sure if this was some kind of a test. If I pretended to learn something and he knew I didn't, I would be in even more trouble. So I decided to risk a little honesty...

"Non. Eet did not zeem to work. I...Mon Dieu!" I couldn't believe my ears...I sounded like Pepe Le Pew's girlfriend. "What ees this? How did zees happen?" I struggled vainly against my bonds, beginning to really panic...if they could make me sound like that, what else would they do if I gave them the chance?

"Don't worry, my dear, it's just a little speech therapy, that's all. You should be proud to be such a fast learner. Now, as for that punishment..." My heart stopped. I was tied to a chair in a room with a mysterious stranger that could make me a foreigner in my sleep. I was on the verge of tears imagining what he could do to me while I was awake. I was helpless, but strangely, not hopeless. Stupidly, I hoped for another miracle...maybe he would decide I didn't have to be punished...but of course that was a futile hope...or so I thought. "Now you don't have to be punished. It's really up to you. Here at the Harrow House, we pride ourselves in only training the perfect sissies, and no amount of drugs, surgery, or hypnosis can make a perfect sissy if she doesn't want to put in the effort. So, Belle, the question you have to ask yourself is, do I want to be a perfect sissy? If you do, go to room 101 after this and accept your punishment. If not, go take a nap until you hear the next bell signaling the start of your maid duties. The decision is entirely yours."

The moment he finished talking my bonds snapped open. I told myself it was a remote controlled latch, but I wasn't convinced. I didn't even have the courage to turn around, too afraid of what I'd see, or worse, wouldn't. I heard his voice so clearly, I would have hated to find there was no one there. Instead I bolted out of the room and down the hall, running anywhere as long as it was away from that voice. I was already half way there before I noticed I was running towards room 101. What was I thinking? I didn't want to be punished...did I? Of course I didn't...but I did want to be the perfect sissy...so I found myself tentatively knocking on the door to room 101, cursing my conscience and their cruel games, terrified of what I'd see when I opened the door...trying to tell myself it couldn't possible be as bad as I imagined it would be. I was wrong...it was worse...