The Slave Who Agreed to Lose Control

Marina had been hanging on that profile for almost a year. On his photos, on his short videos, on the cold way he wrote every word. The man called himself Raven and had made it very clear, in all caps, that he did not accept new slaves. He wasn’t looking, he didn’t reply, he didn’t negotiate. And even so, she couldn’t get him out of her head.

She had written to him several times. Long messages, humiliating ones, in which she offered herself without conditions or limits, for whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. She couldn’t lower herself any further. And every time she got the same thing: silence. But silence didn’t put anything out. On the contrary. Every new photo of those women used just for his whim was like fuel for an idea that had settled inside her and wouldn’t leave.

Almost a year had passed since her last unanswered message. And still she kept checking the profile every day, waiting for new material, which trickled in little by little. When something appeared, she watched it over and over until she had it memorized. She would slip her fingers into her cunt while watching other women kneeling in front of him, imagining herself with her mouth open waiting for his cock. She came alone, in her bed, biting her lip so she wouldn’t scream the name of a man who didn’t know her. It was as close as she was ever going to get to him, she told herself. And that was enough.

Until it wasn’t enough anymore, because on some ordinary Tuesday, one with nothing special about it, a message came through.

It was HIM. The entire object of her obsession writing to her. Marina read the first line and had to sit down. Her hands shook so badly it took her a while to open the conversation. This can’t be real, she thought. But it was.

The proposal was risky. Very risky. So reckless that anyone with even the slightest instinct for self-preservation would have said no without thinking. Marina read it three times in a row, and by the third she already knew she was going to accept. She would have accepted anything just to meet him. This was no exception.

She replied that of course. That she would be there on Friday at the indicated place and time, dressed as he wanted. That if he wanted anything else, anything at all, she was at his feet. I hope he wants more, she thought as she sent the message, her heart hammering against her ribs and her cunt already soaked beneath her skirt.

***

She was useless at work on Friday. She got everything wrong, reread the same email five times without understanding it, checked the clock every two minutes. Inside, she was a bundle of nerves pulled tight to the limit. She could barely eat anything at midday. When she finally got out, she went straight home.

She showered thoroughly, slowly, as if the water could prepare her for something she knew could not be prepared for. She shaved everything off, cunt and ass, with the razor resting on the stool, spreading her legs in front of the mirror until her skin was left smooth and red. She got herself ready carefully. She sent a message to her friends saying she was going away for the weekend to a retreat with people from work, an excuse she had rehearsed so it would sound boring and nobody would ask questions. She took her keys and left with time to spare.

The villa was on the outskirts, in an area of large houses separated from one another by tall hedges. Marina arrived before time and stayed inside the car, a street away, watching. She had twenty minutes left and they felt endless. She thought about starting the engine and going home. She thought about it seriously, several times. And each time, the idea of never knowing what would have happened felt more unbearable than fear.

On the dot, she got out of the car, walked to the gate, and rang the bell.

She expected to see him. But another man opened the door, built along the same lines, broad across the shoulders, with a calm expression that revealed nothing. It wasn’t Raven. He let her in without a word, crossing a carefully kept, very private garden, hidden from the street by the vegetation. He left her waiting in the foyer, alone, standing on a cold marble floor.

And then he appeared.

Skinny jeans, a T-shirt that outlined his chest and arms, and an air of confidence that filled the entire room. He smelled of recent sex, of another woman’s cunt and still-warm semen, and that detail, so deliberate, so calculated to remind her that she was last in a long line, made her knees tremble. Marina lowered her gaze without being ordered to.

—You’re the bitch who’s been chasing me for months, aren’t you? —he said, without greeting her—. Do you know exactly why you’re here?

—Yes, Sir —she answered, and she was surprised by how steady her voice sounded—. I know very clearly, Sir.

—Good. —He circled her slowly, looking at her the way someone looks at a purchase before paying for it. He ran a hand over her ass over the dress, squeezing one whole cheek, and she bit her lips—. I’m glad. You’re going to be useful to us this weekend.

He slipped two fingers under her skirt, without ceremony, and rubbed her cunt through her panties. Marina felt the fabric clinging to her, soaked through, and a choked gasp escaped her. He smiled without looking at her, brought his fingers to his nose, smelled them, and slowly wiped them on the fabric of her dress.

—You’re already dripping and nobody’s even touched you. You’re going to serve.

He stopped in front of her and pointed to a closed door at the end of the hallway.

—Now you’re going to go into that room. You’re going to undress, put on what’s on the bed, and take what’s on the bedside table. —He paused deliberately, letting each word land on its own—. Remember one thing: there are cameras in the whole house, except in that room. So if you want to leave, this is the only place and the only moment. After that, no.

—Thank you, Sir.

Marina hesitated. But only for a few tenths of a second. She watched him walk away down the hall, that body that had dragged her into the greatest madness of her life, and knew she wasn’t going to move toward the exit. She pushed the door open and went in.

***

The room was almost empty. A bed that had never been used, with sheets still marked by the folds of the packaging, and a bedside table. Nothing else. No pictures, no visible window, not a single personal object. A room designed so that no trace of anyone would remain in it.

On the bed was what she would be wearing for the next forty-eight hours: a pair of thick leather wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs, with metal rings, and a wide collar, closer to a medical neck brace than to a toy accessory. The leather was new, stiff, and smelled strong. Marina undressed slowly, folded her clothes over the only chair, and adjusted each piece. The wrist cuffs tightened on her. The collar forced her chin high. When she was done, she looked at her leather-gloved hands, her nipples erect and hard from sheer nerves, her shaved cunt shining between her thighs, and she could barely recognize that body as her own.

What came next was the serious part. On the bedside table were two small white pills and a glass of water. She didn’t know exactly what they were. But she knew perfectly well what they were for: to sedate her, to keep her half-way to unconsciousness for hours. From his message she also knew they would not be the last pills of the weekend, and that a doctor would monitor the doses. The result would be the same from beginning to end: forty-eight hours without will, without any way to stop anything, completely surrendered to whatever they decided to do with her.

She had asked for the following week off to recover. Even so, part of her mind wouldn’t shut up. What if they take it too far? What if I wake up in a hospital having to explain to a nurse how I got here? The fear was real, concrete, physical. It had settled in her stomach like a stone.

Here she hesitated more. She picked up the glass, set it down. Picked it up again. She thought about the door, about the only room without cameras, about how she was still in time. She thought about the whole year spent waiting, the unanswered messages, the feeling of being no one to him. And she thought that now, finally, she was exactly what she had always asked to be.

She swallowed the two pills in one gulp and sat on the edge of the bed to wait.

***

A couple of minutes passed. Maybe three. At first she didn’t notice anything, and that only made her more nervous. Then the dizziness began, soft, like the first step of a slow drunk. The room’s walls lost a little of their edges. The weight of her head pulled downward and she had to brace her hands on the mattress so she wouldn’t tip over completely.

That was when the door opened.

Raven came in first. Behind him, two more men, enormous, whom Marina saw in a blur, like figures at the back of a dream. He looked at them, not at her, and spoke like someone giving instructions over a freshly delivered package.

—Here’s what I promised you. She’s taken the first dose. Give her another one every eight hours, not a minute less and not a minute more. Andrés, the doctor, will come by now and then to check on her. —He paused and stepped closer to the bed—. On Sunday at five I’m coming back for her.

Marina tried to say something. Her tongue wouldn’t obey. He grabbed her by the hair, threw her head back against the mattress, pried her mouth open with two fingers, and spat inside. She swallowed on reflex, with no strength for anything else.

—Let the party start right —he murmured, and slapped her lightly on the cheek, almost affectionately.

One of the other two was already unbuckling his belt. The bulge in his jeans stood thick and hard. Marina saw it through a haze, as if the room had filled with water. The man came closer, pulled his pants down to his thighs, and took out his cock, hard, thick, already leaking. He placed it between her parted lips without asking permission.

—Open up, bitch.

Marina’s tongue did not obey her commands, but it obeyed his. Her mouth opened on its own, soft, defenseless, and she felt the whole cock sink to the back of her throat. She couldn’t even gag. She tasted the still-warm semen from the man’s previous fuck, and the smell of another woman’s cunt mixed with sweat. The cock slid in and out of her mouth at a rhythm she didn’t control, her head held by the hair, her neck forced to move because she couldn’t.

The other one opened her legs on the bed without ceremony. He grabbed her ankles by the new ankle cuffs and spread them as wide as her hips would allow. Marina vaguely felt thick fingers parting the lips of her cunt, exploring inside, checking that she was wet. She was soaked. Her body was betraying her even under sedation.

—She’s ready, fuck, look how she’s dripping, the filthy whore.

—Stick it in already, don’t keep her waiting.

She felt the head of a cock pressed to the entrance of her cunt, just for a second, and then the full thrust, all the way in, brutal, with no care at all. The scream stayed trapped in her full throat. The whole bed started slamming against the wall to the rhythm of the man’s hips, who was fucking her like she was a doll whose holes were being tested for the first time. Her breasts bounced in time, nipples hard, rubbing against the leather of the wrist cuffs every time he shoved her upward.

—She has no limits —Raven’s voice drifted from far away, calm, commenting on the scene like a dealer—. But don’t go too far. I want her back in one piece, I’m interested in renting her out again. And remember the whole house records. The videos will leave here only lightly edited, so be careful what you do, because this isn’t just for you.

He turned around and walked out into the hallway, not even turning his head to watch how his new bitch received the first double pounding of the weekend. The door shut with a dry click.

One of the men came fast, with a grunt, emptying himself completely inside Marina’s cunt, holding her hips so not a drop would escape. As soon as he pulled out, the other removed his cock from her mouth, grabbed her by the ankle cuffs, bent her legs until they were pressed to her chest, and slammed his cock into her ass in one hard thrust, taking advantage of the fact that her flesh was still softened by the pills and offered no resistance. Marina felt the distant burn, very distant, like a burn on the other side of a wall. The first man’s semen was leaking out of her cunt, dripping over her open hole, serving as lubricant for the second, who impaled her to the hilt and stayed there for a few seconds, enjoying himself.

—Fuck, how tight she is, even asleep.

—Wait until we wake her up with the next load.

The ceiling moved slowly above her head. She felt the room tilting, or herself tilting, she wasn’t sure. She felt the leather rubbing her wrists, the weight of the collar forcing her chin up even as her eyelids grew heavy as lead, and the thrusts in her ass that shook her whole body against the mattress, each one faster, more brutal, farther away.

The last thing she registered clearly was the second gush of hot semen emptying inside her, and a man’s voice saying in her ear, “we’ve got forty-eight hours, sweetheart,” before the words stopped being words and became only warm, distant noise.

That was as far as Marina’s consciousness went.