Chimerae: Say Uncle

This story has been previously published on another site.

I pulled my SUV into the employee parking lot and paused to hand my badge to the bored guard in the booth. He looked briefly at my face, then scanned the badge. His face changed when my ID details popped up on my screen.

"Hey Aria," he greeted me as he passed my badge back. "What've they got for you today?"

"No idea," I shrugged. My voice was low and husky, like Kathleen Turner in her prime. "They never tell me anything until they're ready to put me under."

"Right," he chuckled. "Well, say hello on your way out, if you're driving."

"Will do!" I smiled, then pulled past the booth and started looking for a space.

My name's Aria Franklin, and I'm a chimera. In case you've been living off-grid the past decade or so, that means I am the victim of a genetic condition caused by a botched attempt to treat one of the new Covid variants that popped up in the late 2030's. A newly minted mRNA treatment caused a certain percentage of people to have an unexpected and, in many cases, fatal reaction, throwing their DNA into a biological blender. Victims experienced their bodies mutating and transforming in horrible and painful ways.

Those who lived long enough--like me--for the treatment that was devised were often left in a permanent state of genetic malleability. Each time the treatment that kept me alive was administered, there was an opportunity to transform me based on any specifications that were desired. The company I worked for, Gene-E, was one of a few that catered to those with the money to afford a transformed sex worker.

Like most chimerae, I became hypersexual, so I didn't so much mind the sex work. Also, like most of the victims, I have a base form that Gene-E restores me to when they don't have an assignment for me. I ended up as a tall, willowy blonde with small breasts. I'd been a short, curvy Latina with big boobs before I'd gotten sick, so at least I'd stayed female. My friend Tommi, who works for a different company, had been a big jock and ended up as a tiny Asian girl with a monster cock.

My physical transformation hadn't been as hard to deal with as the change I'd experienced in sexual orientation. Before the sickness, I'd been a confirmed lesbian; afterward, I really craved dick. I mean, I really loved it.

I finally spotted a space and pulled into it. I grabbed my purse and let out a slight grunt as I got out of the vehicle, breathing heavily as I made my way to the entrance. My latest assignment had me as a tall, brunette BBW. My tits and ass were enormous, which is apparently exactly what the bachelor party of black guys had been into when they paid for me. I winced a bit as my cheeks rubbed together; a couple of those guys had been very enthusiastic about fucking my ass, and they hadn't been particularly generous with the lube.

I ran my badge through the card reader and went into the lobby. I stopped at the guard desk to greet Randall, one of the guards. He was fit, a former Marine, and when I was in my base form, he was just my type.

"Hey, Aria," he said, smiling, recognizing me from my last visit. "Not the best look they've ever given you."

"Right?" I husked. "I swear I feel like I'll have a heart attack before I make it to the lab."

"Don't do that," he grinned. "You know how much paperwork I'd have to fill out?"

"See you, sweetie!" I laughed, blew him a kiss, and headed for the elevator bank. I hummed along with the elevator music, some old K-pop tune, and thought about what Randall's dick might look like. No rule forbade me from sleeping with any other Gene-E employee, but I knew it was frowned upon.

I got checked in with Iris, the administrative assistant who manned the reception desk, and plopped my ponderous ass down in an oversized chair to wait for Jovie, my liaison. Jovie had a title like "Account Specialist," which didn't betray a single thing about her job. She reviewed client requests and picked which chimerae on staff would undergo the transformations needed to meet them.

I got along well with Jovie; she was more willing than some other account specialists to listen to me about transformations I didn't want. Do you have any idea, almost 70 years later, how many fat, rich guys have a fantasy involving Princess Leia and a metal bikini? Gross.

"Aria!" a voice greeted warmly, and I looked up to see Jovie smiling at me. She held two steaming cups and handed me one. I sniffed and smiled.

"Mexican mocha latte?" I asked, and she nodded. "You remembered."

"Hey, I try to remember what makes all of my people happy," she responded. We walked down the hallway to her office, which had a view I always enjoyed. I didn't know exactly what Jovie had done to earn a corner office, but I was glad I didn't have to sit with her in some windowless cubicle.

"So, should I ask how the Benson party went?" she queried, as we settled in on the sofa. She'd set up part of her office as a comfortable place to talk.

"Ugh!" I exclaimed. "So predictable. Bunch of black guys who like fat white ass."

She wrinkled her nose.

"Charming. Well, they definitely liked you, though." She passed over a tablet, and I saw that it was a rating survey. I'd gotten top scores in every area, and I saw that they'd added a nice additional amount to the mandatory talent gratuity.

"Well, that was good of them," I replied, sliding the tablet back to Jovie. We both sipped at our drinks as she tapped at the tablet.

"So, we have a client request, and I wanted to run it by you because it does involve more than standard chimeric transformation. They're interested in some add-ons."

I set my drink down. Gene-E offered various extras which could be added to the standard cost of hiring a chimera. Some of these weren't even things unique to Gene-E, like tattoos or piercings, so the client was paying for the convenience of having them done in-house. The serious add-ons were usually either a data splint or a personality splint. The former meant having skills or information loaded directly into my brain. I'd had this done once when I was hired out for a month to a chain of electric vehicle mechanics. I'd spent the month as a big-titted hottie with mechanic skills. The EV firm told Gene-E their sales had jumped 9% that month because I boosted customer morale.

The other splint, the personality splint, was considerably rarer and could carry some risk, if the rumors were true. A personality splint involved loading an entirely new personality into the chimera's head. It didn't erase the original personality; it was more laid on top of it and became dominant during the assignment. The chimera's true personality could still assert itself.

The risk--again, according to rumors--was that the implanted personality, or parts of it, might linger when the chimera returned to base form. The whispered stories I'd heard involved a chimera being driven crazy by the conflict of carrying two personalities in their head.

"What are we talking about, Jovie?" I asked.

"Well, to start with, they want a very specific physical transformation, and are willing to provide DNA so we can achieve that."

"So, they want to fuck someone they can't have?" I guessed. Jovie uttered a short laugh.

"Since they have also provided pictures of tattoos and piercings, that's probably the case. There's more to it, though."

"Go on."

"The client's request would mean both a data splint and a personality splint, level 2." Jovie continued.

I gasped audibly. I'd read up on the personality splints when I first signed on with Gene-E. If my memory was correct, the difference between a level 1 and level 2 personality splint is that the level 2 involves implanting both false memories and emotional reactions keyed to other individuals or objects. According to the company's research, this makes the transformation feel more real to the client.

"What exactly is this request, Jovie?" I asked cautiously. She slid the tablet across to me, and I started reading. I looked at the image first and immediately noticed it wasn't a render; it was an actual photo, and it looked unaltered. I was looking at a pretty, redheaded teenage girl with a very mature body. She was smiling in the photo, but something about her body language just screamed, "bitchy."

I read on, looking at the client's requests, then looked at the field that should have contained the client's name. It contained only one word: "redacted." My mouth literally hung open.

"J-Jovie, what the fuck is this?"

"A very wealthy client who wants even more discretion than the company normally exercises, Aria," she said firmly. "You need to review that information thoroughly, but first I think you should look at the pay scale on this one."

I scrolled to the bottom of the client file to find the payment information, and almost dropped the tablet.

"This can't be right. This is like four times what I usually get!" I said. Jovie nodded tightly.

"It's actually well on its way towards five times your normal fee," she confirmed. "We made it clear to the client that was the only way we'd consider it."

I was silent for a moment. The amount I was being offered was pretty staggering. I did some quick mental math and realized it would be more than enough to cover rent and bills for a few months. That would mean I could be more choosy about my jobs during that time, and wouldn't have to take assignments like the Benson party.

I scrolled back up and read through all of the client requests. The data splint seemed to be mostly to make sure I would have certain sexual skills and proclivities the client specified, so I wasn't too worried about that. I read the personality splint section very carefully. Whoever the girl was, it sounded like my appraisal of her as bitchy was correct. There were also a lot of clues as to what the client was going to do with me, as I spotted phrases like "submissive once collared," and "will take pleasure in her degradation."

I finished reading and set the tablet down. Jovie was waiting patiently.

"Questions?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "I need to know the real risks with the personality splint. I've, you know, I've heard some stories."

She nodded.

"I'd be surprised if you hadn't, honestly. To answer your question, yes, there is some risk to a personality splint, but it's been hugely overblown. In the entire industry, there have been only two known incidents, neither of them involving Gene-E."

"Tell me about them," I demanded, and her lips compressed into a thin, pale line.

"Okay. Incident one occurred in the early days of chimeric transformation. You wouldn't recognize the company name if I said it, because they went bankrupt from the lawsuits. The chimera was transformed into what the reports described as a 'female orc.' "

I was silent for two heartbeats.

"A what?" I asked in confusion.

"An orc, which is a creature from fantasy fiction. The images in the report show the chimera as a large, overweight green woman with tusks and a pig-like nose. She was hired out to a client who also transformed two other chimerae into male orcs, and then filmed the three of them fucking. The two males were restored to base form without issue. Initially, the female was also restored to base form and seemed fine. Still, over the course of several weeks, she began exhibiting physical characteristics of the orc form again: green skin, tusks, and gaining weight."

"The psychiatric issues came next," Jovie continued, "which were tied to the personality splint they'd implanted. The chimera was eventually detained while in the midst of attempting to murder one of the company's scientists. She's been in a secure psychiatric facility ever since."

"Jesus!" I cried out.

"Yes," agreed Jovie. "The after-report determined that a combination of failures caused it: they inadequately wiped the personality splint, and they didn't perform a sufficient scan and filter of the chimera's DNA after resetting to base form. Too much of the 'orc' DNA was permitted to remain present when the chimera returned to base form. That incident is one reason we have the before-and-after scanning protocols we currently use. I don't believe this could happen today, if that's what you're worried about, sweetie."

I chewed on that for a moment.

"You said there were two incidents," I finally said. Jovie sighed.

"That one happened at GeneMaxx," she began, and I thought of my friend Tommi. "Fairly standard physical transformation, with a personality splint. Client wanted a hot, dumb bimbo to take with him for a weekend wedding destination. Chimera went, spent the weekend fucking the client, and came back to get transformed to base form. Lab tech immediately noted that something was off, because the chimera's base form was male, but he kept giggling like a cheerleader flirting with the captain of the football team."

"What happened to him?" I asked, horror-struck.

"Completely schizoid," Jovie shrugged. "Or schizophrenic, or something. I don't know the term; I'm not a mental health professional. He couldn't cope with the warring personalities in his own head. From what a friend at GeneMaxx told me, they continue to pay a fortune to his family to cover the psychiatric care."

She sipped from her coffee and said, "Again, failure to properly wipe the personality splint afterward. Listen, hon, we have extremely thorough protocols here. You do this job, the splints get wiped clean afterward, and we will for damn sure make certain no trace of the DNA from this transformation remains."

I thought again about how much money I was going to get paid and took a sip of my latte.

"When does the client want me?"

******************************************************************

I woke up slowly in the back of the limousine, confused at first. I'd been at school, hadn't I? A quick flash of some sort of hospital room or laboratory, but I blinked, and it was gone. I thought for a moment, and then remembered: I'd been in class during 4th period, and one of those old bitches from the front office had come to collect me. She'd told me that Mom and Daddy had sent a limo for me.

I yawned and stretched, looking down at myself. I wore my school uniform: a white blouse over a blue-and-green plaid skirt. My blue blazer, with the crest of Briarly School, lay next to me on the seat, along with my purse. I stretched again, flexing my toes at the end of long legs that I knew even some of the male teachers admired. I smiled, knowing I had a spectacular ass and big tits to go with it. I was a hottie, and no one else came close, no matter what that hoebag Alicia Curtis thought.

In my purse, I saw my phone in its cute, sparkly blue case, and I watched the screen light up with a notification. I took it out and saw that it was from Shayna.

WHERE R U? TIFF SAYS THEY TUK U OUT OF CLASS.

YEAH, I typed back, PARNTS SENT CAR FOR ME

OH. R U STILL COMNG TO THAT PARTY?

That confused me for a moment. I didn't know about any party. For just a moment, I felt panic rise inside me. This wasn't my body, was it? I took a deep breath and felt the swirling stop in my head. I still didn't know what party Shayna was talking about, but who cared? Wherever it was, I was sure I'd be the hottest girl there.

DON'T KNOW. I responded. WHO KNOWS WHAT MY BS MY PARENTS R PULLIN?

UR SO BAD!

I put the phone back in my purse and snatched a compact I saw. When I unfolded it, I saw my reflection: a pretty teen with full lips and a pouty expression. I put the mirror back and pulled out a wallet. I found a driver's license in a transparent sleeve and looked at it carefully.

Adeline Walker. My family and friends called me Addy. I looked at the birthdate, and my lips moved as I counted years. I was eighteen, a senior. Huh. How had I forgotten how old I was? I mean, Mom and Daddy had given me that hot pink Mini Cooper for my sweet sixteen. I put the license back in my wallet and tucked it away, then sat back. It was weird that I had blanked on who I was. I was the most popular fucking girl at the Braisley School! All the boys wanted me, and most of the girls wanted to be me.

The limo stopped, and the driver hustled out to open my door. I grabbed my purse and stepped out, then stopped dead, confused. We weren't in front of my building. I was standing in front of an immense mansion; it looked old and rich, like a museum or something from that stupid old show my mom liked, Downtown Abby or something.

"Um, where am I?" I asked the driver. He said nothing, just got back into the limo and pulled away, leaving me standing in the driveway of an unfamiliar house.

"What the fuck!" I screamed after him. Daddy was going to have that guy's ass once I told him about this.

"Miss Walker," a cold, stern voice said. I turned around and saw a really uptight-looking lady in an ugly black dress. Her hair was pulled back into a bun so tight, I would bet it hurt her head.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"I am Evelyn Strang. I am your uncle's majordomo."

"Uncle Mark?" I asked, puzzled. I knew I had an uncle, and that he was even richer than my parents, but I'd never met him. Also, what the hell was a major dummo or whatever she'd called herself?

"The same," she said, her voice sounding like ice freezing. "Your uncle has asked me to take charge of you until his arrival. If you would please accompany me inside?"

"Whatever!" I rolled my eyes. Why hadn't Mom and Daddy told me I was coming to my uncle's mansion? I followed the Strang lady, who walked like she had a stick up her ass. Stupid bitch. A uniformed butler opened the door as we approached, and nodded to us.

"This is Wallace," she said curtly, leading me into a foyer that looked bigger than my bedroom. "Wallace is the lead footman."

I gawked at my surroundings -- everything I could see screamed wealth, but not a gaudy, tacky sort (like those fuckers the Trumps). This wealth showed in the quality of the decorations and furnishings. I was brought back to attention when the stupid lady cleared her throat.

"If you would follow me, Miss Walker?"

"Yeah, okay. Listen, Evelyn -- " I started, but she cut me off.

"Miss Strang."

"Huh?"

"Kindly address me as Miss Strang."

"Um, okay, Mizz Strang. I'm going to need to know what the fuck is going on here, right now!"

Without a word, Strang turned on her heel and struck me across the face with an open hand. I came close to falling from the blow, and my hand shot to my cheek. My mouth fell open in shock.

"You will watch your language," she snapped, her eyes level and calm.

"Oh, my God!" I shrieked, clutching my already throbbing face. "You have no idea who you're messing with, you fucking bitch. Do you have any idea who I am?"

"I do," she said, looming over me. I suddenly realized she was much taller than me. "You are an entitled, spoiled brat who has not an ounce of either discipline or respect for anyone. You have driven your parents to their wits' end, which is why they turned to your uncle for assistance. He intends to teach you both discipline and respect."

I opened my mouth to tell the creepy old skank where she could get off, but she was already looking past my shoulder.

"Wallace," she said, "as discussed."

The next instant, a white-gloved hand, clutching a white cloth, pressed itself against my mouth and nose. I smelled something sweet that burned my nostrils when I breathed it in. I tried to cry out and struggle, but Wallace's arm was immovable, even as I beat it with my fists. It seemed like he held the cloth to my face for an eternity, and I started to feel dizzy. My hands fell away as weakness hit me. A ringing sound started in my ears, and then my vision started to close in around me. It felt like I was shooting down a tunnel at light speed, and when I got to the end, there was soft, cottony blackness.

*

I woke up slowly, again. My head was pounding, and my mouth felt weird. I tried to lift a hand to wipe my lips, but felt a jerk on my other hand. My eyes shot open, panicked, and I saw that my wrists were bound. I sat up and realized that I was naked. In that same moment, I realized there were sharp pains in my nipples, and I was horrified to look down and see that they had been pierced. Two big, round metal balls were on the top and bottom of both nipples. This made both of my nipples--already big to begin with--stick straight out.

I raised my hands to see what was going on. A solid leather cuff was buckled around each wrist. Each cuff had a D-ring connector attached, connected by a solid-looking chain. I swung my legs over the edge of the unfamiliar bed and stood. The hardwood flooring was cold beneath my feet. I spotted a full-length mirror in the corner of the room, and slowly walked towards it.

When I saw my reflection, I understood why my mouth felt weird. I had a gag strapped to my head, which was keeping a black silicone rubber ball in my mouth. The ball had a hole in the middle, which I guessed was to help me breathe. As I watched, a stream of drool dripped out of my lips and onto one of my tits. I wanted to wipe it off, but I couldn't figure out how with my hands cuffed.

I blinked, disoriented, and looked at myself. Wasn't I supposed to be taller, and weren't my tits smaller? I breathed through my nose and closed my eyes, and when I opened them, I looked the way I was supposed to look. There was the belly piercing I'd gotten when I turned 14. Mom had thrown a fit about that! Wait... I kept my bush, what my last boyfriend had called my "fire crotch," neatly landscaped, but it was gone. My pussy was bare as a baby. With my hair gone, the little red devil tattoo--which Mom definitely didn't know about--just above my crotch stood out even more. I let out a moan through the gag, starting to feel really afraid.

The bedroom door opened suddenly, and Miss Strang walked in like she owned the place. She carried something made of leather in her hand, and I shrank back when I saw her. She gave me a slow, evil smile.

"Feeling a bit more respectful, are we?" she said in her icy, flat voice. She followed my gaze to the item in her hand. She shook it out, and I saw it was a leash with another D-ring connector on the end. I cowered as she came over to me and clipped the leash to my handcuffs.

"Don't worry," she sneered, "I'm not going to whip you."

She pulled on the leash, and I followed, trying to keep up as she pulled me along. Over her shoulder, she spoke again, and I felt a cold shiver that had nothing to do with being dragged naked through the house.

"The whippings will come later."

We went through hallways hung with fine art and down a wide staircase. I stumbled halfway down, almost falling, and Strang jerked viciously on the leash.

"If you fall, be assured I will drag you the rest of the way," she promised. "Your uncle will not care if your face scrapes on every carpet in the house."

We reached the bottom floor, and Strang pulled me along after her until we reached an ornately decorated wooden door with a digital screen mounted next to it. She placed her hand on the screen, and it flashed; it was some sort of scanner. The wooden door slid aside, and I realized we stood in front of an elevator car. The major-whatever pulled and pushed me into the car, then pressed the only button.

My stomach lurched as the car started descending. I glared at Strang until she noticed, and then she lightly smacked one of my tits. Tears ran down my face from the pain caused by the piercing.

"You will keep your eyes on the ground unless instructed otherwise," was all she said. I stared down at my feet. The car stopped, and once the door opened, she pulled me into a hallway with dark floor tiling. The walls were painted a flat gray. We entered a large chamber, and my eyes widened at the furnishings.

There was a large bed with a heavy metal cage framing it. I saw a padded bench, with rings and D-ring clips along the bottom, clearly meant for attachments like my cuffs. In one corner stood a strange contraption that looked like two triangles meeting point to point. I trembled inside as I realized the triangles formed an "X" to which someone could be bound. An entire wall held whips and paddles of different varieties, as well as dildoes and other things whose purpose I couldn't guess.

Strang took me to a spot where a short length of metal tube hung from the ceiling. She unhooked the leash, then issued a command.

"Raise your hands."

Quivering with fright, tears streaming down my cheeks, I did as she instructed. She quickly clipped the cuffs to a connector on the tube, leaving me with my bound hands above my head. She stepped aside and flipped a switch on the wall, and I felt the cuffs tug me upward. She flipped the switch again, and I was raised slightly off the ground, my feet barely touching the cold floor.

She walked behind me, and I heard her quietly murmuring, and a male voice responded.

"That will be all, Miss Strang. Please carry on with your other duties now."

I heard a quiet scuff of footsteps as she walked away, and then a man stepped into view. He wore blue dress pants and a white collared shirt with rolled-up sleeves. He had long, dark hair and gray eyes, and he looked enough like Daddy that I knew who he must be before he spoke.

"Hello, Adeline. We've never met, but I'm your uncle, Mark Taylor. Despite what is going to follow, please believe me when I say that I'm sorry that this is how we have first to meet each other."

He walked over to the wall full of tools and removed one from its hooks. It was patent leather, oblong, with a handle. He held it lightly along one leg as he walked around me, still talking.

"Your mother--my sister--hasn't wanted us to meet because of certain... proclivities of mine. She felt a man such as myself might not be the proper influence to have around her daughter."

He smiled to himself, feeling the edge of the item in his hand.

"I don't really blame her. If I'd ever been a father, I would probably feel much the same. In any event, her feelings on the subject have changed because, in her words, you're "such a little cunt."

I tried to gasp around the ball gag. He had to be lying; Mom would never say that about me! He shot me a horrible grin, then frowned. His voice changed, and I recognized the danger in it.

"Keep those pretty little eyes of yours on the ground, Addy. Do not make me tell you a second time."

He resumed pacing around me and sighed.

"Understand that you've brought yourself here, Addy. Your general disrespect for both my sister and your father. Your filthy mouth and manners. You've been kicked out of what was it, five different private schools because of the trouble you cause?"

He paused in front of me, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught him staring straight at me.

"Would you like to know what it was, the straw that broke the camel's back, niece? The final thing that gave your mother the impetus to turn you over to me."

I kept my eyes on the ground, too frightened to respond. He clicked his tongue.

"It's okay, Addy. You have permission to respond. Would you like to know what finally made your mother decide to send you to me?"

Without making eye contact, I slowly nodded. He stepped close enough to speak directly into my ear.

"It's because she found out what a little slut you were, niece. To hear her tell it, you'd sleep with any halfway handsome fellow with a cock."

He chuckled, and the sound of it brought sobs out of me. He walked around behind me and placed his hand on my ass. I shuddered.

"I'll tell you what I think," he said calmly. "I think you're not entirely to blame. That may surprise you to hear, but for a girl to reach the age of eighteen and not know how a young lady should act... well, that's on the parents."

His hand was replaced by something cool and smooth, and I realized it was the item he'd been holding. The realization washed over me with my uncle's next sentence.

"In fact, when I questioned your mother about it, she confessed that neither she nor your father had ever lifted a hand to punish you when you did something wrong. That's the problem, you see. You've never had so much as a spanking in your entire life, Addy. Let's begin by correcting that."

My breath was forced out of me as the paddle hit my ass. There was an intense, burning pain as the leather slapped against my cheek, like a sharp flash of heat. Simultaneously, there was a dull, heavy pain that traveled through my cheek from the force my uncle used.

"Ahh," he said from behind me, in a satisfied tone. "You have that characteristic pale, creamy skin of a redhead, so just that first blow has left a mark. Let's continue. I want to see that full ass of yours when it's as red as the hair on your head."

He began paddling me with consistent, heavy blows. The first few brought grunts and whimpers out of me from the pain, but eventually I was reduced to heavy breathing and gasps. I was crying, and snot was bubbling out of my nose, running over my stretched-out lips and down my chin. I lost track of how many times he spanked me, but my ass felt like it had been set on fire long before he was done.

"Well, then," he finally said from behind me, and I felt his hand roam over my swollen ass. "That's the shade I was looking for."

He stepped aside and hit the switch, and I sagged as my feet hit the ground. He reached up and unfastened me, and I almost fell. He tsked as he steadied me, then pulled me by the cuffs. We approached a small mat, and he directed me to kneel. I was grateful for the small cushioning it provided, even though I wanted to wince from the pain in my inflamed ass. Uncle Mark unclipped the cuffs.

"Put your hands behind your back," he instructed me, and I fearfully did it. He reconnected the cuffs, and I found that with my arms locked behind my back, it forced my chest forward. He pulled a chair over and sat in front of me. His hands drifted down and squeezed my tits gently. I couldn't help but cringe due to the pain of the piercings.

"I wasn't sure about the piercings," he commented. "I mean, they're going to keep these absolutely lovely nipples of yours permanently erect, but when I see them now, I think maybe the size of the barbell ends is a bit much."

He stood up and walked out of my sight for a moment, then returned to the chair. He was holding another leather item in his hand.

"After this next bit, you may actually start to enjoy some of this," he remarked. "In fact, I think you're going to be eager to be a very good girl once I put this on."

He held it up, and I saw that it was a thick, leather collar. My eyes widened in terror as he brought it close and buckled it around my neck. As it tightened, something unfurled within me. I was still frightened, but suddenly a new sensation bloomed. I wanted to please my uncle, more than anything. I wanted to be the good girl he talked about. His hand went to my chin, lifting my face towards me, but I kept my eyes downcast.

"It's okay," he said soothingly, "you can look at me."

I obeyed, looking at his face and feeling adoration. He smiled at me.

"That's it, Addy. Submit yourself to me."

I nodded fiercely. His hands came out and went behind my head, and I felt him unbuckle the gag. He set it on the floor next to me and ran his thumb softly over my swollen, distended lips.

"You want to please me, don't you, Addy?"

"Oh, yes, Uncle Mark!" I gushed, and he shook his finger at me but still smiled.

"No, niece. You haven't earned the right to say my name yet. You will call me either 'Uncle' or 'sir' until you do."

"Yes, sir," I responded meekly. He nodded, then reached for his belt and undid it. He paused and looked at me thoughtfully.

"Your mother went on at some length about your... promiscuousness, Addy. Have you ever given a boy a blowjob?"

I nodded, my heart suddenly hammering in my chest with anticipation.

"Speak up!" he said abruptly.

"Yes, sir," I whispered. He gave a knowing smile.

"Of course you have, a little slut like you." I felt an unexpected shot of arousal at being called 'slut,' but Uncle was still talking. "You've never taken a man's cock, though, I'll bet. That's about to change."

He continued opening his trousers, then lowered them and his underwear down to his ankles. His cock stood erect, thick and throbbing. The head of his dick was like a huge purple knob, crowned by a bead of pre-cum. I stifled a gasp -- he was right, I'd never even seen a man's cock. I could smell its musk, and my mouth suddenly overflowed with saliva. My abused nipples stiffened even more, and I felt a damp heat begin to build in my pussy.

"Oh, you want this, don't you?" he sneered, noting my reaction.

"Yes, Uncle."

"Then you need to beg for it, niece. Beg for it like a good little slut does."

"P-please may I give you a blowjob?" I asked, trembling. His face darkened, and he leaned forward, moving fast as a snake to slap me across the cheek.

"I said beg, bitch!"

Sobbing, I made sure not to meet his eyes as I pleaded, "Sir, please let me s-suck like a good slut."

"Not good enough. Beg."

"Uncle," I whined piteously, "please let me suck your cock."

"Now you're getting the idea." He grabbed the sides of my head and pulled me forward. I had the briefest taste of the bead of precum on my tongue, and then his shaft had forced its way into my throat, gagging me. Tears flowed from my eyes as he began to thrust, pushing deeper with each stroke.

"Gluh gluh gluh ack!" was all that came out of me as my uncle facefucked me furiously. With a loud pop, he withdrew his cock, and jammed a hand into my mouth, stretching out my lips. I moaned as he forced himself into my throat, removing his fingers just as I spit up a flood of drool and possibly vomit onto the mat beneath me.

"Lick it up!" he commanded. I stared down at the puddle on the mat, completely grossed out. He couldn't mean it, could he?

"You're going to learn it's best to obey me the first time," he said, in a tone that chilled me. "Last chance. Lick up every drop."

I leaned forward, trying to get my face close to the mess. I got a whiff of it and jerked back, and he exploded angrily.

"You disobedient little bitch!" His hand went into my mass of red hair and jerked painfully, rubbing my face into the puddle. He rubbed both cheeks in it, then my forehead, then leaned in close.

"I better see that slut tongue getting to work, or I might just tear it out."

Whimpering and gagging, I got to work, trying to keep from throwing up all over. At last, I had licked the mat's slightly nubbly surface clean, and I dared to get back on my knees. I peeked from beneath my lashes. Uncle was sitting in the chair, watching me with one leg crossed over the other.

"About time," he sniffed. "Of course, you didn't obey, so now... we move on to punishment."

He rose and grabbed my hair again, dragging me across the cold tiles. I shrieked and kicked my legs, to no avail. He jerked me up, pulling my torso over the padded bench I'd seen when Miss Strang brought me into this dungeon. He positioned me so that I was left with my ass up in the air. A very short chain on the floor in front of the bench was clipped to my collar, keeping me from moving. I heard his footsteps move away from me for a moment, then come back.

"You've had a taste of the paddle," he commented, "and now you're going to feel the lash. I want you to count each one, niece. And rest assured, if you pass out, the count will start over when you wake up."

The moment between when Uncle stopped speaking and the lash whipped across my ass seemed to last an eternity. I heard it whistle as it came down, and then an agonizing stripe of fire burned across my cheek. I shrieked in pain.

"That didn't sound like a number to me," my uncle said calmly. "I guess we'll just have to start again, Addy."

The lash laid another fiery weal on my other cheek, and I sobbed as I choked out, "O-one!"

"Good. Now we can start in earnest."

He began whipping me methodically, taking a moment between each strike. Through my whimpers and shrieks, I managed to keep count. Each lash burned, and my cheeks began to throb and prickle with a growing, uncomfortable heat. But I felt a different kind of heat elsewhere. My pussy was growing wet, and my poor, hurting nipples were throbbing. Oh God, I was getting turned on by being whipped! After a dozen blows, my uncle paused, and I winced as I felt his hand squeezing my cheeks.

"You've got a nice set of stripes on that lily-white ass, Addy," he said casually. "Each time you sit down over the next few days, those stripes should remind you of the cost of disobedience. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," I whispered with a throat that was raw from screaming. His hand drifted between my legs, swiping at the folds of my pussy.

"Oh ho!" he chuckled, holding his glistening fingers in front of my face. "I think someone enjoyed their punishment. Clean my fingers."

I opened my mouth immediately, and he thrust them into my mouth. I ran my little pink tongue over them, tasting my own juices. He pulled his hand out and lightly slapped each cheek. The slight pain of the smacks just seemed to increase my arousal.

Uncle moved around behind me and pushed my shaking legs apart. His hand dabbled in my cleft again, first one finger, then two moving in and out. I began breathing heavily, and yelped when he suddenly slapped one of my reddened cheeks. He moved in between my spread legs, and I felt the tip of his cock run along my lips, spreading them open slightly. I let out a small, shuddering moan as one of his hands went to my hip.

"N-no," I protested, and instantly both his hands were around my throat, choking me. Panic and fright overwhelmed me, but somehow I was also turned on by the idea that my uncle was about to fuck me.

"Don't you ever say no to me," he hissed. "Here's what's going to happen, Addy. I am going to fuck you. It's not going to be like any of the pathetic boys you've been with. You exist for my pleasure alone. I am going to shove my dick balls deep in you, and I'm going to fuck you for as long as I want."

He laid a couple of agonizing slaps on my swollen ass to emphasize his point, then I felt his head at my entrance. I whimpered, unable to move away, and felt the first couple of inches push into me.

"Good," he commented, "your pussy is nice and tight, so at least your whore ass couldn't have slept around as much as your mother seems to think."

He resumed pushing into me, and I felt myself being stretched by his thick shaft. I'd never taken any dick this big, and it hurt. I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying out. My uncle began steady, aggressive thrusts, going deeper and deeper into my little teen pussy. With a shock, I felt his hip bang against my abused ass, and his heavy balls pressed against me.

"Now," he grunted, "comes the fucking."

He began to jackhammer into me, each violent thrust making me shake. His hands came up to my face, two fingers on each side going into my mouth and pulling each time his cock thrust home. Involuntarily, my tongue stuck out, more drool splattering about. My uncle grunted as he pounded into me, the sound of him smacking into my ass over and over echoing through the dungeon.

His fingers left my mouth, but my tongue remained hanging out as I panted like a dog. He gripped my hips as his tempo increased, and I began letting out tiny little cries of pain as he railed me. Sweat was pouring off of me, and the arousal I felt kicked up a notch as Uncle began muttering as he fucked.

"Tight little snatch!" he'd exclaim, followed by, "You like this, don't you, you little slut?"

I gasped and squealed, and his hands moved from my hips to my shoulders.

"I said you like this, don't you?" he thundered.

"Y-yes," I squeaked out, and he shook me.

"Say it louder!"

"Yes, I like it!" I gasped, a little louder. He thrust all the way into me and stopped, his cock throbbing inside me.

"Yes, what?" he said dangerously.

"Yes, uncle!" I was quick to say, as my arousal unfurled into full-on lust. "I love your cock in me!"

He laughed, thrusting once, twice, and holding it again. I whined, wanting him to keep going.

"Say, please," he commanded, and my words ran into each other in a slurred babble; I wanted him to keep fucking me so badly.

"Please, sir, keep fucking me. I love being your little slut, I love your cock, I love it, I love it, I love it!"

He began brutally thrusting again, and slapping my already pained ass. I cried out with each smack, the pain now pleasure. I felt his cock swell larger inside me, and he gave a final furious thrust, stabbing deep inside me, and I felt a torrent of hot cum shoot into my tunnel. Several more splashes followed, and I could feel each one coat my inner walls. Without a word, he withdrew, and I could feel his cum, still steaming hot, gush out of me and drip from my pussy.

I heard some small sounds, and realized my uncle was pulling his pants back on. A moment later, I heard him speaking, and realized he must be on a phone.

"Miss Strang? I'm finished for the night. Come collect her and clean her up."

Without a word to me, his footsteps receded, and I was left alone, still breathing heavily. I was covered in cooling sweat, cum was dripping from my pussy, and I could feel the painful welts rising on my ass.

*

"Get up!" Miss Strang shouted. I jerked awake, frightened at the sound of her voice. The night before, she had come to the dungeon and unchained me from the padded bench, then uncuffed me. I rubbed at my wrists, trying to restore the circulation.

"Follow," she snapped, and I hurried to obey her. We walked through a door set into one wall of the dungeon, then down a short hallway, where I was surprised to find an immense stall with multiple showerheads. It looked like a bunch of people could fit in the stall, and I realized it was exactly that.

"Turn around," Strang barked at me, and when I did, her hands went to the back of my neck and removed the collar. I felt strangely unsettled without it around my throat. Strang set it down on a counter, and rummaged in a cabinet next to the stall. She turned back to me and thrust a couple of items into my hands. I looked down and saw a loofah and a small container of body wash.

"Clean yourself, you little whore," she said rudely. "Make sure you wash out your filthy little pussy."

A tiny remaining spark in me wanted to tell her to fuck off, but the new part of me that had awakened when the collar first went on me was secretly warmed to be called a whore. I got in the stall, and Strang turned on the water; the spray hit me from all directions, and once I was wet, I poured some of the body wash onto the loofah and began to lather up.

"Hurry up!" Strang scowled. I quickly used the loofah to clean my body--wincing when it dragged over my pierced nipples-- and then my face. My lips felt swollen and still stretched from the gag, and the warm water stung when it hit the lashes on my ass. I rinsed off, and the water stopped. Strang threw a towel into my face, and I used it to pat myself dry. When I stepped out of the stall, Strang stopped me.

"Make sure your feet are dry. I will not have you tracking water through the residence."

After I made sure my feet were dry, she had me turn around and refastened the collar around my neck. I almost sighed with relief when it was buckled back on. Strang turned me around and handed me a garment. It turned out to be a sleeveless nightgown, very plain and beige, that fell to just above my knee. I wrinkled my nose at it; I was a stylish girl, and wouldn't have let any of my friends catch me dead in the outfit.

Strang must have noticed me wrinkling my nose, because a small smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, does the young miss not approve of the sleepwear? If you'd prefer, I can drag you naked through the household once more."

"N-no!" I was quick to respond. "It's fine."

Strang hmmph'ed, but motioned for me to follow. She didn't put the cuffs back on me, but the walk through the dungeon wasn't comfortable. Even the light fabric of the nightgown seemed to aggravate the lash marks all over my ass. I kept quiet as we rode the elevator back up, then followed Strang into the mansion's east wing. From somewhere far off, I heard a piano playing and wondered if it was Uncle.

After leading me through a bewildering set of hallways, Strang deposited me in a tiny room. It contained a bed that looked barely big enough to hold me, and a small dresser. After ushering me in, Strang closed the door behind me. I heard a clicking sound and realized she'd locked me in. I looked around. With nothing else to do, I got on the bed and curled up, pulling my knees up to my chest. I let out a small cry when I accidentally bumped one of the piercings, sending a bolt of pain through that tit. I swallowed heavily as some tears leaked out of my eyes, but after a while I must have drifted off to sleep -- until Strang's yell woke me up.

Strang led me to a bathroom and ordered me to shower and wash my hair. When I stepped out of the shower, my wet hair clinging to my back in a sodden mass, the nightgown had vanished from where I'd hung it on the back of the hook. I used towels to dry off my body and did my best to wring most of the water out of my hair. Strang opened the door and tossed me a thin bathrobe, then led me down more corridors.

I was surprised to realize the room she'd brought me to was set up as a small salon. A thin, nervous girl in a short smock whom Strang introduced as Lexie. Lexie set to work blow-drying my hair, then put it back into two braids and pinned them to the back of my head. She sat me at a small vanity table and began applying makeup to my face. Strang stepped out into the hall, speaking softly into her cellphone, and I took the opportunity to speak to Lexie.

"How long have you worked here?" I asked in a low voice. She paused, her eyes wide with fear as she applied eyeshadow to me. She shot a look at the door, through which we could hear Strang's low murmur, and shook her head.

"Are you not allowed to talk?" I asked. Lexie shot another terrified look at the door and resumed applying the eyeshadow.

"If she hears, she may punish both of us," she whispered. I gave the tiniest of nods.

"I don't understand why she'd punish you," I whispered back. Lexie took a tiny brush to my eyebrows.

"I used to work in Mr. Taylor's office."

"Huh? Why did he have a hairdresser in his office?"

Lexie cast yet another frightened look at the door and stood up. She flipped up her short skirt and pulled down the skimpy panties she had on underneath. I gaped in surprise. She had a tiny set of cock and balls, although her cock was contained in a small cage with a lock on it.

"I wasn't a hairdresser," she whispered, "and my name was Alex."

She straightened her clothing and got back to work on my face. Strang walked back in as Lexie was applying lipstick and inspected me.

"Well done, Lexie," she said curtly, turning me so I could see myself in the mirror. Aside from the very red lipstick that had been applied, my face looked smooth and even, without a lot of contouring. There was a faint hint of pink blush on my cheeks, and a lot of dark, smoky eyeliner and mascara. I looked a little older than eighteen.

Strang crooked her finger at me, and we went to the room next door, which was set up as a dressing room. An outfit hung on a hook on one wall, and I felt a sinking feeling when I saw what it was.

"Get dressed!" snapped Strang. I looked around to see if there was underwear or a bra anywhere, and she smacked me on the cheek lightly.

"You'd better hop to it when I give you an instruction, you little slut."

My cheek warmed from her hand, I scrambled to take the outfit off the hanger. I fumbled with it as Strang watched me, cold and unblinking. I got the garter belt on with no problem, but then faltered when it came to figuring out how to attach the straps to the stockings. She sighed in exasperation and came over, attaching the clips after I managed to slide the stockings up my legs.

I stepped into the petticoat and adjusted it at my waist, then looked at the next piece.

"Raise your hands over your head!" Strang barked. After I did, she slid the black dress onto my body, then put on the lacy white half-apron, cinching it tightly around my waist before she tied it. It made me feel like my ass was jutting out like a shelf behind me. She produced a couple of lace cuffs for my wrists, then the leather collar I had worn the day before. As it was buckled around my neck, I shivered again, feeling the urge to please, to be a good girl.

In the mirror, I took in the outfit. I was in a French maid's uniform, but the black dress was far too short and tight. My tits bulged out of the low-cut top, and the skirt was barely long enough to cover my crotch. With the way the petticoat pushed it out, I could tell that if I bent over, anyone would get a view of my naked ass, and probably my pussy as well.

"Sit!" was the next command. I sat on a bench, and the majordomo produced a pair of patent-leather high heels and slid them onto my feet.

Tottering on the narrow heels, I followed eagerly and dutifully behind Ms. Strang, who led me through the hallways until we entered a room that was set up as a library. A feather duster rested on a side table, and Strang handed it to me. She gestured around the room.

"Get to work. Your uncle wants this entire room dusted."

She left, and I got to work with the duster, using it on the tables and any other flat surfaces. I bit my lip as I looked around. What else was I supposed to dust? I moved the feathers over some of the book's spines, coughing at the dust I kicked up.

"Ah, look at you, niece," my uncle's voice came from behind me. "I'd wager this is the first time in your life you've ever done any work."

I held very still, the duster clutched in one hand, as he walked forward and inspected me. He nodded in approval.

"Slutty little maid." Heat bloomed between my legs at his words. I was frightened and aroused, as I felt my pussy start to get damp. He came closer and slid his hand beneath my tiny skirt, touching my bare ass. I could feel the ache of the stripes from my whipping the night before.

"Go over there," he commanded, pointing to a sturdy table of dark, gleaming wood. I obeyed, and he made an approving sound.

"Lean over, and spread your hands," was the next instruction. I leaned over against the cool wood, my tits squashing beneath me as I extended my arms. I felt my uncle move behind me, and the cool air as he flipped my skirt up. He began to squeeze and caress my ass, and the dampness between my legs quickly became a flood. I was getting so horny, and I silently hoped that he was going to fuck me.

I bit back a yelp when he suddenly smacked my ass, hard. He slapped me again, twice, harder each time, and I gritted my teeth even as my arousal grew. His hand left my ass and swiped along my pussy, gathering my dripping fluids. He held up his glistening fingers and laughed.

"You really are a slut," he jeered. "All wet just from a spanking!"

Without a word, he shoved his fingers into my mouth. My tongue slithered over them, tasting my own arousal. I dared to let out a little moan. He put his hand back between my legs, inserting one finger, then another, into me. I moaned again, and when I wasn't punished for it, I dared to begin pushing against my uncle's hand each time his fingers moved forward into my slit.

"Oh, you like this, don't you, you little whore?" he asked.

"Y-yes sir!" I gasped. He reached forward and took the feather duster off the table, turning it around so the handle pointed toward me.

"Suck on it," he demanded. I opened my mouth, and he slid the handle in. My lips closed around it, and my cheeks sank in as I sucked like it was a cock. He moved the handle in and out, pushing it deeper with each stroke. I felt my saliva building, slicking the smooth wood of the handle. My uncle's other hand went beneath me, grabbing and squeezing one of my tits. I inhaled sharply, trying not to squeal, and he thrust the handle all the way down my throat in one push.

I made gagging and moaning noises around the shaft. Being forced to deepthroat the handle had pushed my arousal up a notch, and I wiggled my ass, squirming with lust.

"Get that handle nice and wet, you little bitch," said my uncle. I slobbered all over the wooden handle, trying to get as much of my drool on it as I could. I felt so hot, obeying what my uncle told me to do. Suddenly, the duster was yanked from my mouth.

"That looks sufficiently slick," he commented from behind me, and suddenly, I felt the tip of the handle poking between my asscheeks, pushing against my tight asshole. My eyes went wide as I realized what my uncle was about to do. His hand pressed against the back of my neck, keeping my face against the table.

I bit my lip as the handle was shoved against my sphincter. Tears leaked from my eyes as it popped through my ring. It felt like I was being split open as my uncle kept steady pressure, slowly moving inch after inch of the wooden rod up my ass. I let out a single sob when it was hilted completely inside me; I could feel the lightest brush of the feather against my ass. It felt enormous, and the pain of it stabbed deep into me.

To my surprise, I felt my uncle's hands lightly stroke my back, and he spoke soothingly.

"Try to relax, Addy. If you stop tensing up, your ass will get used to it quicker." His tone hardened slightly. "My cock is going up your tight little asshole either way, so you may as well get used to it."

With that, he began moving the duster in and out of my tiny little hole, and I tried to do as he said. I took deep, ragged breaths, unable to keep the occasional soft cry of pain from escaping as the shaft stretched out my virgin rosebud. I was drenched in sweat, and astonished to realize that my pussy was practically gushing.

"That's it," he said after a while. "Open up."

The duster was slipped out of my ass, and I felt his fingers at my cleft again, scooping up my cream, then spreading it around my inflamed asshole. One finger pushed an inch or two inside me, lubricating me with my own juices, and I let out a moan. It hurt, but it was also pleasurable.

I felt the tip of something much larger than the feather duster push against my anus, and from the warm throb of it I knew it was my uncle's cock. He thrust into me, and I almost screamed. He paused for a moment, letting me stretch to accommodate his thick dick, then he moved forward again.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Y-yes sir," I whimpered, and almost immediately his hands gripped my head, fingers inside either side of my mouth. I started to drool.

"I don't want to hear a word from you," he ordered, as he continued to shove his cock further up my shithole. He pulled back slowly, then moved forward again, pushing more of his pulsating rod into me. I was panting now, overcome by both pain and arousal. With a hard thrust, I felt his balls slap against my pussy from behind, and then he pulled almost all the way out. There was an instant in which I felt a pained sense of emptiness, and then he began to fuck my ass with long, steady strokes.

My hands, which had been flat on the table, clenched themselves into fists as my uncle's cock began to stab in and out of me roughly. His hands yanked my head up, then he used his grip on my mouth to lift my torso off the table, my whole back arched. I started to let out a little sound each time he fucked into me.

"Ah ah ah ah!"

"Yeah, you like this!" he hissed savagely. "You like taking it up the ass, you little fucking slut."

"Y-yeh-yes, uncle!" I managed to get out through his fingers. His hands let go, and one curled in my hair while the other slid to my lower back, forcing the arch to be more pronounced. I could hear the slapping sound as he pounded me, and I wanted to be such a good girl for him, so I tried to throw my ass back against him when he thrust forward. His pace increased, and I felt both hands on the back collar of my dress. With a loud rip, he tore my dress in two, letting the pieces fall on either side of me.

"Uh uh uh uh!" I cried out. The scraps of my torn dress hung down around my waist, and his hands were at my big tits, pulling painfully on the piercings. My horniness surged to a new level, and despite the earlier command not to make any noise, I cried out. There was no pain remaining as my uncle's cock hammered into my ass, only pleasure as he mauled my asshole and his big balls smacked against me.

His pace increased, frantic now, and one of his hands came around me and began diddling my clit. I came almost immediately, feeling my anal walls clamp down on his cock, which only increased the thrill I felt as he fucked my ass.

"Please, uncle, please come in my tight ass!" I begged. "Please fill me with your cum."

With one hand on my hip and the other pulling my red hair, he flooded my ass with cum. He kept his cock inside me for a moment as my anal walls fluttered around it.

"You best keep those cheeks clenched," he warned as he pulled out, "because if a single drop of cum falls out of your ass onto my floors, you are going to wish you were never born. Turn around. Get on your knees."

I did as he told me, looking up at his still rigid cock.

"Open!" he said, and I opened my mouth wide. He pushed the tip onto my tongue. I could taste his cum and a bitter, foul taste that I knew had come from inside my ass.

"Clean it off, bitch."

It took me a lot of effort to lick and suck my uncle's dick clean without gagging. He seemed satisfied as he tucked it away in his pants. He took his phone out of his pocket and hit a button.

"Miss Strang, come collect Adeline. Oh, and bring a buttplug. What's that? One of the larger ones, I think, and then take her back downstairs. Hmm? Yes, time for the rack. She was told not to make a sound, but she's such a little slut, she couldn't obey that simple command."

I looked up at him from the floor, stunned. I was going to be taken back down to the dungeon? He looked at me coldly as he pocketed the phone, then said something unexpected.

"Program pause."

For a moment, nothing happened; then, like smoke sucked into an exhaust system, I felt Adeline Walker retreat and Aria Franklin come to the surface. I suddenly hyperventilated and tried to catch my breath, my big tits jiggling. On my knees, hurting from kneeling on the floor, I gazed up at Mark Taylor.

"I just wanted to take a moment and express how pleased I am with the job you're doing," he said politely and courteously. "The transformation alone would have been a lot, but this personality splint... wow. I can truly believe that you're my damned niece."

What the fuck? I thought. He brought me out of character just to tell me I'm doing a great job?

Strang came in carrying a small bag, and she seemed to know immediately that something had changed. She shot Taylor a quizzical look, and he held up one finger.

"In any event, from your perspective, the rest of our time together is going to be a long week -- for you. I do hope that as you look out from somewhere inside my bratty little whore of a niece, you're enjoying some of it. I certainly will be."

With a nod to Strang, he said, "Resume program."

The room seemed to swirl around me for a moment, then went still. Had someone else been here in the library with us a minute ago? Who had my uncle been talking to? All thoughts about that were quickly banished as Strang removed an immense black rubber buttplug from the bag. A bottle of lube followed, and I watched fearfully as she applied it to the toy.

My uncle reached out and grabbed my hair, yanking me to my feet, then throwing me over the table again. I shrieked when the buttplug was shoved inside my already abused ass without fanfare, stretching me out even further. Strang removed the remnants of my dress and apron, leaving me wearing only the garter belt, stockings, and heels. I was cuffed and leashed, and then came stumbling behind the majordomo as she pulled me into the hall.

She gave me an evil grin once we were inside the elevator, traveling down to the dungeon.

"May I confess something, Addy?" she suddenly said, leaning in close. "I was hoping that you'd disobey your uncle so that more punishment would be forthcoming."

The door opened, and she pulled me along down the tiled hallway.

"You see, your uncle likes to allow me to take charge as the training continues."

She paused as we entered the dungeon, pointed towards a horizontal rack, and laughed. I felt a chill at the sound.

"My favorite part of the training is when he lets me take disrespectful whores like you, and teach them how to lick pussy like a good slave."

She yanked on the leash once more.

"Come along, Addy. I hope your tongue is ready."