Prologue

It was swelteringly hot. The sun was high in a blue sky, not a single cloud to give respite. Anne’s mind wandered wistfully to the comforts of home, where a comfortable lounger beckoned beside her shimmering pool. She longed for the cool refreshment of a cold beer, to be enjoyed in the shade of her terrace. Instead, she leant against the unpleasantly warm metal of the BMW and glanced once again at her watch.

The distant whine of a high-revving engine broke the peace. Although she knew it was too far away to be seen, she couldn’t resist glancing toward the strip of tarmac that snaked up the hill.

“Finally,” she muttered.

With a sigh, Anne pulled her blouse from her sweaty skin and retrieved her suit jacket and folder from within the hire car. It was hot outside but even more stifling in the cabin, and she was not looking forward to the return ride. Typical that the AC had failed – and when she’d paid extra for an upgrade, too.

Anne sighed again as she slipped the jacket on, grimacing in disgust as the material pushed her blouse against her sticky skin, but one must always look professional, whatever the weather.

Besides, if she sold the house, it would be more than worth it. And, if this turned out to be a waste of time, there were… other ways to get value out of the day.

The engine whine was a lot closer now; the rapidity of its approach was surprising, but then she hardly expected a Prius. Not with that engine noise. And not with this house.

Conceivably they were in a rush because they were late. Very late. Anne allowed herself a flicker of hope that perhaps there was an apology coming, a humble contrition, a recognition of the discomfort she’d been forced to endure for – she checked her watch again – almost an hour in this heat.

But who was she kidding. The wealthy entitled had no use for manners; or if they did, they saved them for their peers, not for people like her.

A bright yellow Ferrari Spider swung in between the gate posts, still travelling at speed, and she had to resist the urge to step back as it accelerated towards her. At the last moment the driver pulled up sharply, and Anne caught an expression of amusement through the windscreen.

Not much contrition there, Anne thought.

It was an effort to make her smile seem genuine as she approached the driver’s door. The roof was down – no doubt the AC was on full-blast too. The girl in the driver’s seat was younger than she’d expected.

“Miss Sinclair, I presume?”

“Call me Red,” replied the girl, not even deigning to look at her as instead she examined her reflection in the driver’s mirror. Anne frowned, before quickly schooling her expression into polite interest – not that the girl would have noticed her disapproval. She seemed rather fascinated with herself, Anne thought, and probably rarely noticed – or cared – what anyone else thought of her.

Anne flicked open her folder and double-checked the name: Jamie Sinclair. No photo, which was unusual for her clientele, but the Sinclairs were old money and very protective of their privacy. ‘Red’ could feasibly be anyone, but it was easy to give her the benefit of the doubt; it was the right time (roughly), the right place, and it wasn’t as if many people drove Ferraris to remote multi-million-dollar houses.

Besides, the girl’s deep, maroon-red hair explained the choice of name. With hair like that she was probably ‘Red’ to everybody, and only her mother and her documents called her ‘Jamie’.

Finally satisfied with her appearance, the girl opened the car door and stepped out.

She was tall, Anne realized: probably 5’8, though her heels added at least two inches. She was slender, attractive, and her cut-off denim shorts and short tee suggested designer labels and a casual indifference to her own presentation. Completely at odds with the heels and the long moment in front of the mirror. No, the indifference must be feigned; the vanity was real.

Red pulled her shades down slightly and peered over the top at the house behind Anne.

“This it?” The shades were pushed back into place. “I expected more.” She couldn’t have sounded less impressed if she’d ordered filet mignon and received a small carrot salad.

Anne turned slowly, taking a moment to respond as she inspected the sleek, gleaming-white, six-bedroom mansion, beyond which the pacific ocean glittered blue in the summer sun.

“Perhaps you’d care to look inside,” Anne suggested, trying to keep her tone light while realizing the sale she’d hoped for was looking less and less likely.

Still, there was always the alternative. If she could get the girl there. Anne glanced at the girl standing beside her, oozing arrogance and entitlement. Yes, Anne would be more than satisfied with that outcome.

“Would you like to see the pool?” Anne tried again, as Red hadn’t moved.

“Well, I suppose I’m here.”

And with such an enthusiastic accolade, Red took the path towards the main door, Anne hurrying to follow behind.

“It’s open –” Anne began, but Red had already pushed the door and walked into the expansive, marble-inlaid foyer, and it was far cooler in here. Anne mentally kicked herself for not choosing to wait in the house, but then she hadn’t expected this girl to be almost an hour late. Besides, it wasn’t her house, and she would have felt she was taking advantage. She would’ve scoffed at herself for such foibles, but manners always matter.

“The entrance hall was designed by Ludovica Palomba, while the…” Anne trailed off as Red walked on through the building.

It was irritating that this girl was ignoring her so utterly. Anne felt she had lost the initiative – though it may be more accurate to admit she’d never had it. That could yet change.

She took her time following Red. While her presence may not have been noticed, perhaps her absence would be. When she eventually found the girl again, she was standing by the pool, looking over the balustrade at the pacific ocean, hundreds of feet below.

Anne came to stand beside her, looking out over the water too. For a long moment, neither said anything – but that was fitting when faced with such a view. It would have been crass to fill it with details of the perlato sicila Italian marble that dominated the design of the pool, or to suggest the oval area at one end might be the perfect place to put a bar. Anne smiled to herself; this was just a job, after all. She didn’t even need the money; it simply served as a useful way to pass the time, and occasionally to meet people like Miss Sinclair. No, the goal was no longer the sale. Now the goal was the girl herself.

Several moments had passed, and Red had not moved. Anne glanced surreptitiously at her; she found it rare that someone so youthful could stay so still, that she could pause in a moment like this, lost in the view. If she wasn’t such an arrogant, entitled brat, Anne would almost feel sorry for her. Almost.

Anne noticed that Red seemed more interested in the steep cliff just beyond the balustrade than the horizon. Her curiosity was piqued.

“It’s quite a drop, isn’t it,” Anne offered, casually.

Red glanced at her briefly, her expression hidden behind her dark glasses. She didn’t reply, but it was the closest she’d come to actually engaging. Telling, really: a rude, selfish girl, isolated from the real world by her family’s money, staring at a drop off a cliff. It didn’t take much to put it all together.

For Anne’s purposes, she was perfect.

Anne laid her elbows on the banister and watched the waves crest below. “Why are you here, Miss Sinclair?”

“Call me Red.” The answer seemed to be a reflex. Perhaps the girl didn’t like her name – or her family’s name.

Anne looked directly at her. “Why are you here, Red? Because it doesn’t seem to me that you’d suit this house. Or that this house would suit you.”

Red scoffed, turning away, and it was obvious that something Anne had said was wrong, though exactly what remained to be seen.

Anne followed slowly as once more the girl led them back into the main house, exploring under her own direction.

Anne was content to let her. She could afford to wait; it wouldn’t be long now until the girl found it for herself.

Red walked apathetically through room after room, giving little more than a cursory glimpse to the opulence about her. She merely glanced into the kitchen, not deigning to enter, and Anne’s amusement began to grow as Red reinforced the impression she’d made. Yes, this girl was perfect, and Anne knew she’d enjoy every moment of what was to come.

Eventually, Red paused at a non-descript door off the side of one hallway. “What’s down there?” It was the first question she’d asked since she’d arrived.

“The reflection room.” Anne smiled to herself. The question suggested curiosity but also apprehension, whether Red realized it herself or not. She must be particularly sensitive. This was going to be a lot of fun.

Red’s brow furrowed slightly above her shades, which even inside she had seen no reason to remove. “I don’t need to see that.”

“Don’t you?” Anne inquired politely. She knew Red would be unable to resist.

Red hesitated for a long moment, her hand held extended, hovering, not quite touching the door. Then, as if compelled, her hand grasped the handle, turned, and pulled.

It was clearly a basement, a staircase leading down that was far less refined than the rest of the luxurious house. But that was relative; it was still the nicest basement that Anne had ever seen, and the steps were broad and deep, curling slightly as she followed Red down. Anne had been in earlier, of course; it had been the perfect place to position her… item, and the name of the room delighted her sense of irony.

Red descended the stairs as if in a slight daze, not really looking around her as they entered a pleasantly designed space; simplistic in its layout, with a feng shui feel. Some small, high windows allowed for natural light while the lofty ceilings gave the room a sense of peace. To one side, an array of stones spiraled through an area filled with grey sand, while on the other, numerous candles sat waiting to be lit about an assortment of comfortable cushions.

But it was the mirror that caught the attention, and Red seemed captivated by it.

Anne hung back, a small smile on her lips, watching as Red finally removed her shades, her face fully revealed for the first time.

The mirror clearly did not fit the décor of the room, let alone the rest of the house; it was easily six feet tall, supported on a stand of some design, and the frame was a gold-plated gothic-style swirl of angles and points, culminating in a demonic visage that crested the apex. The mirror seemed to shimmer as Red stared into it, and she shivered visibly in response.

Anne kept back, watching avidly; there was never much to see, but that wasn’t the point.

A moment passed, then another. Red seemed transfixed, held like a gazelle in headlights, and Anne’s smirk grew. Karma, she thought.

“I think you’re right,” Red said eventually, her voice seeming slightly airy, like she was distracted. “I don’t think this is the house we want.”

“Of course,” Anne replied, “I quite understand.” She smiled gently, though Red didn’t seem to notice. “Thank you for coming.”

She followed Red back to the main door and waved politely as the girl drove away.

The note of the Ferrari’s engine seemed far more sedate as it slowly disappeared into the distance, a contrast to the whine of its abrupt arrival. Perhaps its owner was less focused; perhaps she had something on her mind.

Anne smiled.

And so we begin.

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

Chapter 1 – Downward Spiral

“It was nice enough, I suppose, but I just didn’t like it, Daddy. And it’s so remote. You’d spend half your life driving up and down that damn hill.”

Red flipped her mobile to speaker and dropped it on her bed, pulling off her T-shirt as her father’s voice filled the room.

“Shame, I’d had hopes for that one. But my baby girl has to like it too. Any others on the list?”

“A couple,” Red lied; she’d been apathetic about this particular task and had made little effort in her search. She flicked open her bra and let it fall on the bed beside her tee, picking up her phone again. “I’ll let you know, okay?”

“Sure. Take your time, Jamie – it has to be right.”

“Sure, Dad.” Red ended the call and dropped the phone once more. She unbuttoned her shorts, letting them fall, slipped her feet free of her shoes and padded across the room wearing only her La Perla boy shorts.

Her penthouse had a balcony with an impressive view of the city, but it wasn’t a view that Red wanted. She felt quite discomforted and wasn’t sure why. Her skin seemed to itch; her room felt suffocating, despite its grandness. She pulled open the French doors and stepped out onto the balcony, wanting nothing more than to feel fresh air on her bare skin.

It was exciting, being nude where anyone could see. Even though she was so high up that few would have a decent view, it thrilled her. She wondered what was wrong with her – it was not like her at all to risk exposing her body to complete strangers. Why should some member of the unwashed masses have the delight of seeing her perfection? Yet she rested her elbows on the balcony and looked at the cars and people down below.

They would see her if they looked up. Perhaps realize she was virtually nude. Maybe see her breasts. Perhaps even now someone was noticing, watching.

She reached down and slowly pushed her boy shorts over her ass, letting them slip down her thighs and fall to her feet. Yes, that was better. Yet still not enough. She raised her hands high in the air, stretching deliberately, exposing herself fully to anyone that might see.

Closing her eyes, Red thought about all the people who could possibly notice her. Passersby, glancing up from the street below. Someone in a building across the road, looking out of their window. Another guest in her hotel, perhaps about to step out onto their own balcony and get an unimpeded view. Maybe someone had binoculars or had taken a photo of her with their phone at max-zoom.

She shivered at the thought, and her hands lowered slowly and cupped her own breasts, her thumbs flicking pleasurably over her nipples.

Her eyes flicked open. Fuck, what has gotten into me today? Red thought, and, flashing her perfect ass at all her would-be distant admirers, walked back into her room.

The clock showed the time: shortly after five. Red had a dinner date in two hours – some man her father wanted her to meet. Probably the son of one of his multi-millionaire cronies. Oh, who was she kidding – it was definitely the son of one of his multi-millionaire cronies.

Probably some financier’s kid. Harvard or Yale, as boring as fuck, uptight and misogynistic, looking for a trophy wife. She’d been-there-done-that so many times she was weary of it. It was depressing.

And it was most certainly not what she wanted for her evening.

No, what she really wanted was a good, hard, fucking. God, it had been ages since she’d been laid.

Red walked to the bathroom, shaking her head. Even that thought wasn’t like her. She couldn’t understand why she was feeling so odd, but a cold shower would undoubtedly help.

A brief while later, Red stood naked beside her bed, her skin still damp from the shower, looking down in dismay at the dress she’d just pulled from the garment bag.

With a sigh, she picked it up and held it against her, and turned to the wall mirror across the room. She took a step or two closer, looking at the dress in her reflection.

Expensive, white, virginal, demure, conservative. Exactly what she’d expect her father to choose. Was this how he saw her, or how he wanted her to be? It even had lace around the shoulders. Lace, like it was the 1920s.

Red took another step, her eyes focusing on her face. An attractive, perhaps sad, definitely lonely-looking face. She tried a smile; it didn’t work. She’d save that for later.

Her reflection flickered so quickly she almost didn’t see it, and yet it had looked – just for a moment – as though the dress she’d be holding had been black, not white. Short, not demure. Strappy, not lacy.

But that was ridiculous. A trick of the light.

Yet not a bad idea.

She turned to the hotel phone, tossing the dress onto her bed as she approached.

“Concierge. How may I help, Miss Sinclair?”

“I thought I saw stores across the lobby when I checked in yesterday. Are they still open?”

“Of course, Miss Sinclair. They are open late every day. Were you after something in particular? I will call ahead and tell them to expect you.”

“Ladies’ clothes. I need a dress.” And Daddy can go fuck himself.

“Excellent, Miss Sinclair, I will make the boutique aware.”

Red dropped the call before he wore out her name any further. Yes, this felt right; perhaps the evening was not a total loss after all. Perhaps she could have some fun with the uptight financier’s son – or whatever he was. With the right clothes, she could be herself. She didn’t need to be some Stepford wife.

Red smiled to herself as she quickly pulled on her T-shirt and shorts. She was quite certain this wasn’t the sort of hotel used to seeing a tight tee over naked breasts, but at this point she really didn’t care. Yet even that wasn’t quite true: she was being deliberately provocative, and though that wasn’t at all her, usually, in that moment it felt exactly right.

The bellboy at the elevator took a moment to hide his surprise, and glanced at her more than once as she rode down.

Red picked up some further glances as she crossed the lobby towards the stores, and again she was surprised at herself; she was being blatant, brazen even, and it was so far from how she would normally act. But perhaps a change was needed; perhaps she’d had enough of dancing to everyone else’s tune.

The boutique was small yet with a surprising variety. The man behind the till was about her age, and he did a double take when she entered, then blushed. “Miss Sinclair?” he asked tentatively.

“Yes. But call me Red.”

“Of course, Miss…” he swallowed nervously, “Of course, Red. I understand you are looking for a dress?"

“Yes. Something black. Short.”

“A cocktail dress?”

“Yes.”

“We have several that fit that description,” he seemed more enthusiastic as he stepped out from behind the till. “If you’d care to follow me?”

She looked around the store curiously as she followed him through the displays. There was a variety of dresses in the corner to which they headed, and Red saw a range of lingerie in another. There were blouses, shirts, jeans and trainers – and she didn’t see any of the brands she was used to.

Red smiled to herself. She could just imagine the expression of her date that evening if she turned up in jeans and trainers. It was a shame the restaurant probably wouldn’t let her in. She was almost tempted to try.

The store assistant showed her to the evening wear display. “Please take your time. There are some changing rooms behind that door when you’re ready.”

Red nodded, dismissing him, and turned her attention to the rack. But it took her the barest of moments to find a dress that was exactly like the one she’d seen in that glimpse in her mirror only a short while earlier.

“That was easy,” she muttered to herself, amazed that the dress she’d found was such a close match to the idea she’d had. It was elegant yet sexy, shorter than she’d normally choose, with a plunging neckline and a strappy back. But that was okay – she hadn’t expected to wear a bra anyway.

Red lifted the hanger off the rail and headed towards the changing room. The man behind the till smiled at her, but she ignored him. He was cute, but a little insipid for her tastes. Besides, he was a store assistant.

She shook her head at herself as she entered the changing room: here she was, buying an off-the-shelf dress and finding store assistants cute – two more things she’d never normally do. What was with her all of a sudden?

The changing room was a reasonable size with mirrors on almost every wall, and two comfortably upholstered chairs sat in the corners. It was such a thrill to know that soon she would be naked, to be nude so close to strangers, separated only by a thin wall and the polite understanding that no one looks at you, knowingly, when you come out again. She slowly peeled off her T-shirt, wanting to prolong the feeling for as long as possible, watching as her naked breasts gradually came into view, reflected in the many mirrors surrounding her.

And it felt so good to be naked again. As if her clothes were making her skin itch, and true freedom was nudity. Her shorts were suddenly an irritant, and she unbuttoned them and rapidly pushed them down, kicking them off her heels.

She turned slowly, looking in the mirrors, able to see all of herself in the many reflections. Her ass, which she knew was perfect. Her firm, high breasts. The triangle of hair covering her vulva.

For a moment, it seemed that her reflection showed something different. For a moment – perhaps a trick of the light – it seemed she’d been bare down there, no hair at all. She’d never shaved, yet she couldn’t help but think it had looked attractive. Perhaps… well, one thing at a time.

Red pulled the dress from its hanger and carefully stepped into it, pulling it up over her hips and settling the straps on her shoulders. Again she turned before the mirrors, examining herself. It was perfect, but it was short… perhaps too short. Certainly too short to go commando. She bent, experimentally, and the dress rose up to reveal a hint of the curve of her ass. Red wasn’t sure she was ready to be quite that brazen for her date.

She straightened and checked herself in the mirror again. If she stood tall the dress was decent enough – or rather, not blatantly indecent. But nevertheless, underwear was probably a good idea. They had lingerie in the store; perhaps she could find something she liked.

Red blinked in surprise as her reflection seemed to flicker. The image looking back at her was wearing makeup, and it was… dark. Deep purple eyeliner, black eyeshadow and lipstick. She blinked again, looking more closely, and her face as it should be stared back at her. Did she imagine that? Had it been an illusion? Why was she seeing strange things in mirrors of late? Stress. Yes, it was probably stress… she’d have to have a talk to Daddy about the dates he arranged for her. Yet she couldn’t help but agree that the dark makeup looked amazing with her hair and the dress. Perhaps she was simply projecting. Yes, that made sense.

Perhaps they had a makeup counter too.

Red smoothed her hands down over the dress, feeling the smooth, satiny material against her skin. She really liked the dress, and it was exactly what she’d been looking for. Yet it was very short, almost indecently so. It barely came down past the juncture of her thighs. Experimentally, she lifted the hem at the front, looking to see how far it would have to rise before she would be flashing the room.

Red gasped, for her reflection didn’t show the reality of her naked mons, but instead she was wearing black panties of some design. She lifted the dress higher and gasped again, for the panties in her reflection were thin, lacy, and crotchless. In the mirror, one hand held her dress high while the other gently caressed herself, stroking her exposed lips through the gap in the material. Red felt her own hand touch herself, and now she had become the reflection of the mirror. She was imitating what she was seeing, stroking herself as her reflection did, and she suddenly realized how aroused she was, how wet she was.

Red dropped her hands, releasing the dress, but the reflection didn’t immediately do the same. Mirror Red stroked herself once more before lowering the dress, before slowly closing and opening one eye, winking at her.

Fuck, I’m going mad, she thought, as she staggered backwards in surprise, reaching for the chair behind her and lowering herself into it. Red stared at the floor while her pulse raced, and it was a long moment before she could bring herself to raise her eyes to her reflection again. Now the mirror showed her sitting in the chair, her face pale in shock. It showed exactly what it should show, and Red shook her head. Had she imagined it? She didn’t think she had, but it was so outlandishly impossible that she must have.

She watched her reflection closely while she recalled what she’d seen. The dress in her hotel room. The flash of bare, smooth labia. Black makeup. Crotchless panties. And a wink. Mustn’t forget the wink.

Something very peculiar was going on, but she didn’t feel threatened by what she’d seen. More curious, if anything. Besides, hadn’t every new, surprising image been one she’d agreed with? Whatever she was seeing was only, surely, an extension of her reflection – which was definitively her. Yes, that made sense – perhaps this was just a new way of processing her thoughts. Like a dream.

Mirror Red smiled and slowly spread her legs, and Red gasped again. Evidently, she wasn’t imagining it, and it definitely wasn’t a dream. And that dress was very, very short.

So maybe she was seeing things in a mirror, and maybe she should visit her shrink when she got back home, but she was still in control, wasn’t she? The decisions she was making were her decisions, and she was making them simply because she agreed with the mirror’s suggestions.

She could stop at any time. What was the harm in continuing, for now?

Red stood, a little shakily, and smoothed the dress down again. Her reflection copied her, which was a blessing. But also a little disappointing if she was honest. She winked at her reflection, and it winked back in perfect synchronicity. This really is a bit of a mind-fuck.

She slipped the bolt on the door and wandered back into the store. The cute store assistant behind the till gaped when he saw her, which was gratifying. She smiled, wickedly. It would be a shame not to have some fun with him.

Slowly she walked towards him, a little sway in her hips. “I think this dress is perfect, don’t you?”

He swallowed nervously, then nodded jerkily. “Er… yes, Miss Sinclair, I think it looks… very good on you.”

“It is a little short, though,” Red murmured, trailing one hand down her body to fidget with her hem. “I think I will need to wear some underwear. Do you have some in my size?”

His eyes followed her hand down to the hem of her dress, and the implication that she was nude beneath it hung in the air. She twitched the hem slightly, making it rise. Had she flashed him? Had he had a glimpse? Again, the store assistant swallowed, and Red smiled. “Er… yes… I’m sure we do. Er… did you have… something in mind?”

“Hmm, I was thinking something… perhaps a bit naughty. It would suit the dress, don’t you agree?”

He was perspiring, she was delighted to see, and she smiled at him all the more sweetly. She was quite sure she wouldn’t have had this same effect wearing the conservative white dress that lay on her bed in the penthouse.

“Um… lingerie isn’t my specialty, Miss Sinclair, but I can show you what we have.”

“Yes, please,” Red purred. She’d never purred before. She genuinely couldn’t remember the last time she’d said ‘please’, either.

The man began to come out from behind the till. “It’s in the corner, if you’d like to…”

“Oh yes, I see,” and she turned to lead the way, his footsteps following behind her. As she walked, Red slipped one hand to her thigh and slowly began to bunch the material so that with each step the dress rose imperceptibly higher. She felt the hem slip up towards the bottom curve of her ass, and twisted the material a little more.

Behind her the store assistant took a sharp intake of breath, and she had to restrain herself from giggling.

“The… er… more risqué lingerie is here, Miss Sinclair,” he said, and she turned to see where he’d indicated. “Di… did you want something in black?” His stammer seemed to add to his cuteness. Cute, yes, and fun to tease, but she couldn’t imagine he’d meet her needs. She wanted a man to have confidence, to be able to take control. And he wouldn’t fit that requirement.

Red’s brow furrowed. Since when had she wanted a man that could take control? Yet she recognised it was true. Perhaps that’s what had been missing in her life. A strong man with whom she could lose herself, if only for a night.

She realized he was waiting for her response. “Hmm, yes. Something in black.” She smiled again, slowly. “Do you have something… crotchless?”

It was amusing watching the man’s eyes bulge, and she had to fight to keep a straight face.

“Er… gosh. Um. Yes, I think we do, actually. We try to cater to any needs our guests might have…” It was sounding like a sales-pitch until he trailed off and blushed again.

He pushed aside a number of hangers, each holding skimpy pieces of lacy black underwear, until he pulled one free and held it for her inspection.

Red felt a shiver run across her skin as she regarded the lingerie he’d chosen, for it was exactly the same as the ones her reflection had worn, just a few moments previously. Yet, they were what she wanted, what she’d persuaded herself she needed. Did it matter if the idea had come from her own reflection? Her reflection was still her, wasn’t it? Of course it was. Perhaps it was time to stop questioning her mirror-self.

“Perfect,” she said.

He proffered the hangar towards her as if reluctant to touch the flimsy garment, and she was amused to see a deepening blush across his cheeks and neck.

“Thank you,” Red said with a smile, hooking one finger under the hangar and making her way back to the changing room, her hips swaying gently as she felt his eyes upon her.

She closed the door and slid the bolt firmly across, before releasing a happy sigh. This was so much fun! Whatever effect the mirror was having on her, she couldn’t deny that she was enjoying it every step of the way.

The underwear felt silky smooth as she stepped into it and pulled it carefully into place. It was a completely different sensation to wearing her usual choice of boy shorts or briefs; she felt covered, yes, but with the wide openings not only around her vulva but across her ass too, she was almost worse than naked.

Lifting the dress, she examined herself in the mirrors, seeing herself from all sides. The crack of her ass was hardly covered, with much of both cheeks also bare. And while the underwear hid most of her mons, her labia were prominently displayed, pushing out through the slit at the front. She couldn’t help but caress herself again, and her fingers were quickly coated in the slickness of her arousal.

But she didn’t like how messy it looked with her hair protruding beneath the panties. She would definitely have to shave. The mirror had shown her how much more attractive she’d be completely bare below. She had time to address that minor detail before her date – for her own comfort, of course. Not for the benefit of her dad’s crony’s son.

Red ran a finger lightly across her lips as she watched herself in the mirror, but the mirror had other ideas. It showed Red slowly raising her hands above her head, the dress rising up to reveal just a glimpse of her underwear, just a hint of her pussy framed by the crotchless panties. Then, as Red watched, a man stepped up behind her, appearing in the mirror. She turned with a start, but the dressing room was empty. Yet she could see him in all the reflections, in all the mirrors around her.

The man was far older than her, perhaps in his forties, with a crumpled shirt stretched across his prominent paunch. He had thinning, black hair and coarse hands, and a leer on his face as he stepped into her space, pushing against her side. She seemed small against him, his size intimidating.

She watched in the mirrors as he took both her hands in one of his, lifting them above her head, while his other hand slid between her legs, caressing her, probing her.

Red shivered with a mixture of disgust and arousal even as Mirror Red arched her back, closing her eyes, moaning as the man crudely fingered her. Despite the revulsion she felt for the man, Red couldn’t help the arousal that flooded her body, and her fingers slipped between her legs of their own accord, imitating the movements of the man in the mirror.

But the mirror wasn’t finished, because without a transition it suddenly showed a different scene: Red, bent over the arm of one of the chairs, her ass high in the air, her dress pushed up over her hips. Behind her, the man was thrusting into her, his pants half-down and his shirt open revealing his protruding belly, hairy and obscene. Mirror Red was moaning in passion as he took her, and Red saw that her T-shirt she’d taken off earlier was stuffed part way into her reflection’s mouth, muffling her cries.

She moaned in shock and arousal, her pussy suddenly aching with the need to be filled.

The image in the mirror faded, and Red saw herself as she was in reality: face flushed, eyes wide and glittering with arousal, her breath coming in pants, her fingers moving between her legs.

Fuck, but I need to get laid, she thought. Maybe, if she’d at least had sex sometime in the last six months, she wouldn’t be reacting so strongly to what the mirror was telling her to do.

But not with a man like that. No, thank you very much.

Her thoughts turned quickly to the cute store assistant, who even now stood but a few yards away. There’d been no one else in the store while she’d been here; they were alone. Yes, someone could walk in at any time, but… the risk was appealing too. Appealing enough, even, to add some exciting spice: the possibility of being caught. And that was a good thing, because she doubted he was capable of pleasing her without that spice, given his apparent awkwardness and inexperience.

She wondered if he’d ever been with a woman like her. But of course he hadn’t; hardly anyone had had a woman like her.

Red had slipped the bolt on the door before she’d even consciously decided, and as she walked back into the store, her pulse was hammering in her ears. Was she really going to go through with this? Fuck a stranger in a changing room?

He looked up as soon as she entered the store, and she quickly ascertained that they were still alone – no other customer had come in. Her resolve strengthened; she didn’t know why she was acting so, but she was so aroused after watching the scene in the mirror, and she desperately wanted him to sate her needs.

Red walked up to the counter, conscious of his eyes on her, her hands smoothing down her dress as though she was caressing herself, and her hips swayed of their own accord.

He seemed transfixed, like prey caught before a predator. Nervously, he cleared his throat. “Can… can I help you, Miss Sinclair?”

“Mmm, yes please,” she murmured.

“What can I do for you?” his voice trembled with the question.

“I wonder if you could help me in the changing room.” Red was unsure exactly what to ask. “I need your help…” she paused, then smiled, “…checking the fit of my clothes.”

“Checking the fit of your clothes?!” he gasped loudly, watching her with wide eyes.

“Yes, please.” She smiled at him encouragingly.

“Stan, I’ll take care of this.” The voice startled her, and she turned as a man came out of the storeroom behind the counter. Red stifled a gasp as she immediately recognised him: crumpled shirt, thinning black hair, protruding paunch. “I know exactly what Miss Sinclair needs.”

Red was paralyzed, unable to move as he approached her, her emotions in turmoil as she was suddenly flooded with fear, revulsion, and – overwhelmingly – arousal.

As he walked up to her she saw how large he was, not merely in his girth but also in height. He was a heavy-set man and was easily a foot taller, despite her heels. He could overpower her effortlessly, she realized, and for a moment she trembled in fright.

But she was unable to move, unable to object, and in the fleeting chance that she’d had to resist, he’d crossed to her and laid his large hand in the small of her back, applying a steady pressure toward the changing room.

“Come on, little lady. Let’s you and me go and see what you want.”

Red felt the strength in his hand, her body helped across the floor whether she wished it or not, and to her dismay she soon found herself heading back to the changing room; any protests she tried to make simply wouldn’t leave her throat.

One display nearby held sunglasses with a small mirror for the potential customer. As they passed Red caught the briefest glimpse of her reflection, enough to see that Mirror Red was smiling, a playful and welcoming expression clearly on her face.

As they walked, he steered her possessively, his hand firm against her, and she felt his fingers splay out downwards, sliding over the upper curve of her ass. With each step his hand seemed to slide lower, until his palm rubbed firmly against her bottom cheeks and one large finger pushed itself against the crack of her ass, only the dress preventing him from touching her bare skin.

“I know what girls like you want,” he said gruffly as he pushed open the changing room door, driving Red into it before him. “You think you can get my clothes for free if you just flash your pussy at my store assistant.”

“No…” protested Red with a whisper, but he ignored her.

“You can have the clothes, little slut, but you’ll have to earn it.”

Red couldn’t help but see her reflection smile at him and nod, and to her horror she felt her head nod in imitation.

He sneered at her, “You sluts are all alike, but this is my store and I’m in charge here. You’re going to do as I say.”

Again her reflection nodded eagerly, and again Red felt herself compelled to copy.

His large hands grasped her waist and turned her to face the mirror directly, “I knew what you’d want as soon as Stan told me you’d asked for the crotchless knickers,” he pulled her wrists together and lifted them up above her head, holding them with one large hand. Red realized it would be a struggle beyond her strength to pull free, even if she was able to resist. But her reflection was smiling, her hands lifted too, and Red knew she was helpless.

“’Check the fit’, I think you said?” his other hand came to rest against her groin. “Spread your legs, slut.”

In the mirror her reflection parted her legs willingly, her eyes closing with anticipatory pleasure, her back arching slightly to push more against him. Red felt her own feet part, and immediately his fingers were beneath her dress, touching her, pushing against her.

“Fuck, but you’re already so wet. Right little slut you are, aren’t you?”

Red whimpered in arousal and humiliation, helpless before him, controlled both by his hand holding hers and by the mirror’s cooperation.

The reflection in the mirror changed completely, showing Red on her knees before him, her dress pulled from her shoulders, baring her breasts to him. She was staring up at him with lustful eyes, her mouth open and her tongue out, while his fist stroked his fully erect cock directly before her face.

No, thought Red, that’s too much. I can’t do that.

She was pulled back to reality as he pushed one thick finger between her labia, spreading her wetness around, and again all Red could do was whimper.

“I bet you’re tight, aren’t you? Prissy little slut like you?”

She felt his fingertip find her hole, and before she could even think to protest, he was pushing into her. Red gasped at the intrusion, her body squirming in response, yet held immobile by his strong grasp. It had been so long that anyone but her had touched her so, and now a complete stranger was exploring her body for his own pleasure.

“Oh yeah,” he grunted, “very tight little cunt. Do you want me to stretch it for you?”

All the mirrors in the room showed Red’s reflection nodding enthusiastically, her lips slightly parted with a lustful gaze, but Red could only whimper again as he continued to push deeper inside her. Then she felt her head nod slowly, deliberately, as though something else was controlling it, and he laughed cruelly. “I bet you do.”

Red felt him turn her and lean her forward over the chair. The chair’s arm wasn’t high enough to support her hips and she was forced to bend from the waist. He released her hands and, instead, she felt him push down on her back until her face was pressed against the seat of the chair, her ass high in the air.

The dress was too short for this, Red knew, and she could only imagine the view he had. But it was all irrelevant an instant later when he unceremoniously shoved the garment up over her hips.

“You do have a mighty fine ass, slut,” and his hand came down across one cheek with a crack. Red couldn’t help herself; she yelped in surprise and pain, but he only chuckled and slapped her other cheek even harder. Again Red cried out, louder this time, and her bottom began to throb with the sting of his smacks.

“Can’t have you making all that noise, can we?” she heard him say as his hand momentarily left her back, but then he was leaning over her, and shoving her discarded T-shirt into her mouth. “Cry into that, slut. Then you won’t disturb Stan or my customers.”

Red remembered what she’d seen in the mirror earlier – herself, bent over the chair, gagged with her own T-shirt – and it had come true, just like everything else the mirror had shown her. She realized that at some point she’d closed her eyes, but now she opened them and sought her reflection.

The Red in the mirror was bent over the chair just as she was, but her eyes were closed – not in dread but in rapture – and her chin was tilted up, as if in anticipation. Red’s shirt filled her reflection’s mouth too, and she could only watch as the man behind her lifted his hand for another spank. She didn’t know whether it was just in the mirror or in reality too, until his hand landed on her up-turned ass with a blow that pushed the air from her lungs. Yet her cry was muffled by the shirt and almost no sound was made.

Save for the noise of the spank, Red thought, ironically. It’s not like they can’t hear that in the store.

A feeling of shame filled her as she realized that Stan, at the very least, would know what was happening in this changing room. How could she bear to look at him again?

In the reflection Mirror Red wiggled her ass in pleasure, as if asking for more, and to Red’s horror her own hips imitated the movement.

He chuckled again. “You like this, eh? Slut needs a good spanking?”

Blow after blow rained down on Red’s ass until every inch of her skin felt like it was on fire. She would have whimpered and cried, but the T-shirt muffled every noise she made, and all the while her reflection wiggled her ass at her tormentor, spurring him on.

“Fuck, but you have a spankable ass. Are you enjoying this as much as I am, girlie?”

Red could only moan but her head once more nodded, whatever she might have wished it to do.

He chuckled again, a coarse, masculine sound, and Red braced herself for another slap. But he had other ideas, and his fingers instead probed between her legs. Bent as she was, proffered as she was, nothing impeded his access.

“You’re even wetter than before,” she heard him say, and she closed her eyes in shame. Had she enjoyed the spanking at some level? Had it stimulated her more? Or was it the humiliation that was stirring her? Whatever the answer, with his fingers against her she could not deny how aroused she was.

“The great thing about these crotchless knickers is that you don’t even need to stop to take them off. I bet that’s why sluts like you like them so much.”

She heard the sound of a zipper and felt her blood freeze; opening her eyes she watched in the mirror as he unbuttoned his shirt and pulled open his slacks. His manhood sprang free, turgid and angry-looking, and Red sobbed into her shirt in anticipation of what was about to happen.

But while at some level she wanted him to stop, at another her body was crying out for this – to be filled, to be used, to have his cock pushed into her aching pussy. In the mirror, her reflection wiggled her hips at him, and with shock Red saw the synchronicity was perfect – it wasn’t Mirror Red doing it, it was her.

He pushed into her, thrusting, and she cried out as he stretched her, the T-shirt muffling the sound effectively.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He hadn’t managed to fully penetrate her, but she felt his hands on her hips as he readied her for another thrust. Red whimpered against the shirt stuffed in her mouth, not from revulsion or from distaste, but from humiliation as she realized how badly she wanted to feel him fully inside her.

She didn’t have long to wait as he pushed his hips hard against her a second time, then a third, and finally he was fully inside her. It had been too long since Red felt so full, so stretched, and fuck but it felt good. It was exactly what she had craved.

He paused for a moment, savoring the feel of her sheathed around him, then adjusted his fingers on her hips for a better grip, and began to thrust with a rhythm that made Red whimper with every stroke. There was no attempt to be gentle, no care for her comfort; he was using her body for his pleasure and was indifferent to how it felt for her.

But the truth was it felt divine, and Red’s whimpers grew higher and higher in pitch as he hammered into her, her orgasm began to build and her shame with it, until her channel clenched around him as she began to come. Again she was torn between sheer pleasure, fulfilment, and the humiliating debasement of her situation, but whether it was the pleasure or the shame, something drove her orgasm to heights she rarely reached, and her cries became almost soundless as she was lost in the pleasure of her body.

“What a… little... slut…” he grunted behind her, each word accompanied by a thrust into her. “Made you… come… didn’t… I.”

He was panting with exertion now, and on the last push he collapsed over her, supporting himself with one hand on the back of the chair. “Fuck, I’m too old for this.”

She felt him slip from her and then his hand slid into her hair. He gripped hard, pulling her, and Red had no choice but to rise as he required.

“On your knees, cunt. I’m going to finish in your mouth.”

He pulled the T-shirt from her lips as he pushed her down before him, and Red felt the hard floor of the changing room beneath her knees. She looked up at him, her body still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm, and realized that she already knew what would happen. The mirror had shown her.

Without ceremony he grasped her chin in his hand, holding her still as he pushed his cock to her lips. Red wanted to resist; she’d never been keen to give oral. It was demeaning to be so used, and, too, this man repulsed her. Yet her mouth opened to welcome him in, and now she wasn’t sure if the mirror had done that or if she’d capitulated herself. Irrespective, his hard cock pushed over her tongue, and she tasted her own wetness against the backdrop of his flavor. His pre-cum was salty-sweet, which was a blessing given the slightly sour essence that filled her mouth. Maybe it was just because he’d been working in the stock room all day, or maybe he hadn’t showered recently, but Red couldn’t imagine letting any man fuck her mouth so, especially not a man such as this. Yet he was doing it, and he pushed deeper towards her throat.

“Such a… willing mouth…” he gasped between thrusts, his hands fisted in her hair as he fucked her face, and with each push he went further, until Red could feel him shoving into her throat. She fought her gag reflex, trying to breathe around him, but he was relentless, uncaring, and her throat began to spasm around him.

“Yes… gag on me, slut.” He pushed deeply into her and held her head to him, and Red struggled not to choke. She was unable to raise her hands to push him away – even if she’d had the strength to do so. The mirror was controlling her still, and she had no choice but to give them both what they wanted.

Her face was pressed almost to his groin, her forehead against his bulbous stomach, and he held her still for a long moment while her throat clenched around him.

“Fuck, yes,” he said, the expletive delivered with such vehemence, and he pulled her from his cock. “God, that was good.” Red gasped for air, trying to control her reaction, and hoping against hope that he had finished with her.

But he hadn’t come yet, and she knew he wouldn’t stop until he had.

“Let me see those titties,” he said, and roughly pushed the straps of her dress from her shoulders. The material caught briefly on her nipples before falling to bunch at her waist, and her breasts were bare to his eyes. He lowered one hand, grasping and kneading her breast, while he fisted his cock with the other. All the while he stared down at her face and Red was compelled to look up at him; this man who had fucked her so, taken her like she’d never been taken before.

“Open your cute little mouth, slut,” he grunted, his hand sliding up and down his shaft. “Put your tongue out. I’ve got something for you.” He grasped her nipple between finger and thumb and twisted roughly, pulling, and Red gasped at the treatment.

But she knew what was about to happen. It was inevitable; it had already been foretold. She didn’t need to glance in the mirror to know her reflection was already obeying him, already eagerly waiting for his load to be deposited on her tongue. She didn’t want to see the expression her own face would hold in the mirror: an expression of hunger, of lust, of desperation for her tormentor’s seed.

Red no longer knew if she was obeying or being compelled to obey, but she lifted her chin and opened her mouth, pushing her tongue out as he’d commanded.

“Good… little… slut…” he grunted, his fist a blur as it worked his shaft. His other hand once more took purchase in her hair, holding her head ready for him, and then, with a final heavy grunt, he released his load.

The first spurt missed her tongue, splashing against her cheek, and Red closed her eyes in reflex. The second jet landed directly into her mouth, the salty, creamy taste of him immediately filling her senses. A third and fourth spurt followed, each landing on another part of her face, and then he was pushing once more into her mouth.

“Suck me clean, bitch,” and Red had no choice but to obey. “Yes, that’s right, use your tongue,” he instructed, as Red licked the remnants of his cum from the tip of him. “Tastes good, doesn’t it, to a hungry slut like you.”

Red had never liked the taste of cum, but as his words struck her, she realized that too had changed, for suddenly the taste of him was addictive, and all she wanted was to capture every drop. His cock slipped from her lips, satisfied at last, and both Red and her reflection began to scoop his residue from her face with her fingers, feeding them to her waiting tongue and licking them clean. God, he tastes so good. Why does it taste so good?

“What a little cumslut you are,” he said, watching. “You should shop here more often.”

He stepped back, putting his cock away and refastening his clothes. Red remained on her knees, checking with her fingertips that she hadn’t missed any last remnants of his seed, and licking hungrily whenever she touched something sticky.

He chuckled softly. “I’ve never had one quite like you before. You’ve earned your clothes, slut. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Red watched him unbolt the door and leave, without a further glance at her. The mirrors all around her showed a disheveled girl, breasts bare and kneeling on the floor, hair in a mess and her face glistening where he’d come on her. Slowly she pushed herself to her feet and slipped the straps of the dress back into place, covering her breasts once more. Her nipple still ached from where he’d twisted it, and her pussy was sore from his abuse.

But she felt sated, her needs fulfilled. Mirror Red was smiling – or perhaps she was. She couldn’t tell anymore.

Red ran her fingers through her hair, trying to change the ‘recently fucked’ look into the ‘couldn’t find a hairbrush’ look, then picked up her T-shirt and carefully wiped her face clean. She gathered her shorts and took a deep, steadying breath. Her legs were still trembling, and she knew she should be scared, or shamed, or… but she didn’t. She felt good.

Mirror Red winked at her, and she winked back.

“Thanks for your help, Stan,” she said, as she walked past him on her way out of the store. He stared at her, his jaw fallen open, and she laughed softly as she stepped back out into the lobby.

Red started back towards the elevators but had taken only a few steps before she noticed, amidst the other stores, a small cosmetics store. A few minutes later, carrying a small bag with her purchases and her T-shirt and shorts, Red took the elevator back up to her room. The bellboy watched her all the way to her door, and she was pretty sure he wasn’t doing it for security reasons.

Closing the door to her suite, Red dropped her bag on a side table and slowly slipped her straps from her shoulders. Despite her activities of the past hour or so, the dress still seemed nearly pristine, but she smiled at the thought of going on her date in a dress and crotchless panties that she’d so recently been fucked in. That thought should probably have alarmed her, for the Red of old would never have been so brazen, but so much had happened in such a short space of time that the boundaries of her world had been pushed well back.

She glanced at the clock: six thirty. Half an hour until her date; the perfect amount of time to shower, get ready, and turn up classically late.

It most certainly wouldn’t do to be on time.

She pushed her new – or new-ish, she supposed – crotchless panties down her hips, letting them drop to the floor, kicked off her shoes and headed for the shower. Perhaps she should give them a quick wash, but… maybe it would be her little secret. A thought to amuse her during the boring conversation of the evening: her panties soaked in her own cum, from the fucking she’d received directly before her date.

The shower felt soothing over her sore body, her soft loofah helping to ease the aches in her breast where he’d roughly pawed her and bruised her nipple. Her vulva was sore too, but it was not an unpleasant ache. She put on a fresh razor blade and carefully removed all her hair, while Mirror Red watched on in her reflection above the twin sinks.

Red blow-dried her hair and checked the time: 6.58. A few minutes later her room phone rang, and the concierge informed her that her guest had arrived.

Her new black makeup took several minutes to apply, but she was pleased with the result. It accentuated the dark highlights of her red locks and made her naturally pale skin seem paler still. She’d added deep purple eyeliner and a touch of black eye shadow, and the effect was striking.

Red smiled at her reflection in the mirror, and it winked back in approval.

Attired once more in her new, short dress and black heels, her crotchless panties carefully nestled around her shaved-smooth sex, Red felt perfectly ready to face the date her father had arranged. She took the elevator down to the lobby, quite used, by now, to the stares the bellboy was unable to suppress.

A man stood waiting, the expensive cut of his suit and the arrogance of his stance making him quite easy to identify amidst the few others present. He was tall with a trim figure; a definite improvement over the last date her father had arranged. He was even quite handsome, Red noted. He glanced up as she approached, and his eyes widened.

“Steven?” she asked, by way of greeting. Her father had told her a name but nothing more than that; the man was a mystery, and she hoped he would be at least a little mysterious.

“Well, aren’t you a surprise.” His voice was mellow, cultured, and easy on the ear.

“Oh?”

“Mmm. I was expecting a conservative, demure, vapid girl in a conservative, demure and vapid dress. Not…. this.” He gestured with one hand towards her.

“And I was expecting a stuffy, misogynistic, uptight asshole,” her tone was light and playful.

He feigned a frown, “I don’t think I’m stuffy.” He smiled slowly, and she grinned in return.

“I have a table at Jean-Georges; will that suit?”

“It will,” Red nodded slightly.

He held the door for her when they got to the limousine; a courtesy, Red thought, that perhaps came with the desire to steal a peek. She entered very carefully, her knees touching, but it was the sort of maneuver that her upbringing had made a simple task. He hid his disappointment quite admirably.

The ride was brief, the conversation light. She thought about flashing him when she got out at their destination, but the evening was still young. He offered her his arm and led her to the restaurant, gave his name and they walked inside.

It had an elegant décor with crisp, white tablecloths and cream chairs, but Steven led them to a private booth to one side. Red had been looking curiously around the venue, so it took her a moment to notice, but then she did and stopped suddenly.

Steven glanced at her, curious.

Wooden paneling in cream tastefully covered the majority of the wall around their booth, but set into it, running the length of it, was a perfectly clear and polished mirror.

“Oh no!” she whispered to herself. Mirror Red winked at her.

Anne sat comfortably on her sofa, a box of popcorn beside her. Where most homes might position a television, instead Anne had a large mirror with a gold-plated gothic design and a demonic visage at its apex.

She’d particularly enjoyed watching Red in the changing room; the variety of angles the various mirrors had provided had granted much entertainment.

She cackled with glee at the progress Red was making. Oh yes, she’d been a good choice. But she could fall so much farther, and Anne knew she’d enjoy every minute of it.

It was time for dinner.

* * *

Chapter 2 – Dinner and Dessert

Something seemed to have spooked her, but Steven wasn’t quite sure what. Red had seemed full of confidence when they’d met, quite a different girl from the one his friend had described after he’d met her back in New York. Well… more an acquaintance than a friend; Steven wouldn’t kiss-and-tell and the account he’d received had been detailed, and less than flattering. Steven didn’t go for that sort of indiscretion.

But Red hadn’t been that girl; he’d spent only a few moments in her company yet already knew that she wasn’t the dull, unimaginative, missionary-only wooden girl his… acquaintance… had described. No, there was no chance. Not with that bite to her humor, nor that intelligent look in her eyes. And not with that dress. Or her makeup, come to that – black lipstick and eyeshadow contrasting with the deep, purple eyeliner – it was striking, to say the least.

Yet Steven was momentarily puzzled; something about the booth he’d chosen had her spooked, but he had no idea what it could be. The seating arrangements seemed perfectly normal to him. She’d been alert and curious as they’d walked in, then she’d seen the booth and frozen. Yes, that was the word – she’d stopped still for a good second or two, like she’d seen a ghost, and the blood had drained from her already-pale complexion.

Steven took Red’s arm gently and nudged her towards her seat, and she allowed herself to be so led as though she was quite distracted. The table was close to the booth seats, requiring her to sit and then edge along, and Steven blinked as her dress rose up a little. Red hadn’t seemed to notice; something was clearly on her mind, and she’d been remiss in taking the same care she’d shown entering and leaving the limousine. And while her indelible social training had led her to instinctively keep her grace and poise as she nudged along the seat, the dress was really that short; it had taken only that moment of distraction, and the damage had been done.

Steven smiled to himself as he considered the glimpse he’d seen. He’d expected to see an expensive pair of black underwear – or, perhaps, if she was bold, something in red. Yet while there had been underwear on display, there hadn’t been much of it. Instead, the flash of perfectly smooth and enticing skin had ineluctably drawn his eye.

There was only one conclusion: his date for the evening, this prim and proper girl (or so he’d been led to believe), was wearing crotchless panties. And under a dress of that length – or lack of length, he supposed.

He’d intended to do the gentlemanly thing and seat himself opposite her, but how quickly the situation had changed. Clearly, Red had dressed for a different agenda this evening, and who was he to gainsay her?

Steven gave her a moment to get comfortable, then joined her on the same side of the table. She looked up at him, momentarily surprised, then slipped further along the seat to make room. The draping, white tablecloth hid any further glimpses she may have inadvertently shown, but it didn’t matter; Steven had already seen.

The staff hovered politely, as one would expect in a venue such as this, and were quick to rearrange the tableware before them. They wouldn’t have noticed anything, Steven knew, not least because he’d blocked their view himself.

“Sparkling water, and a bottle of Dom Pérignon.” Red glanced at him again, perhaps irked that he’d ordered for her, perhaps approving of his choice. Steven didn’t much care which it was; she’d inadvertently given him the initiative and he was damned if he wasn’t going to run with it. No, it was clear what Red was offering for the night, and if she wanted to be so blatant then he’d have some fun with it. Perhaps his father expected him to court the girl, but one didn’t look for a wife in a girl who wore crotchless panties under a shockingly short dress on a first date. No, girls like that were for… other purposes.

Steven waited for their champagne to be poured and for the staff to leave before lifting his glass.

“Let’s drink to…” he smiled slowly, “…this evening.”

She still seemed a little unsettled but was hiding it well as she sipped her drink. Perhaps she’d realized her mistake and was having second thoughts. He watched her over the rim of his glass, wondering if her fire would return or if she’d suddenly make some excuse and try to leave.

Even now she didn’t seem to be fully engaged; her attention, if anything, seemed to be on the mirror directly behind him. Steven frowned; she was behaving a little bit oddly. But it didn’t really matter, he wasn’t planning on seeing her after tonight.

Both menus and the wine list were conveniently beside Steven. He picked one up, not bothering to offer the other to Red. “Are you hungry, Jamie?” he let the double-entendre float in the air.

“Call me Red.”

He glanced at her, smiling. “Yes… I’d heard you prefer that.”

“Oh? Who told you?”

“Do you remember Alfie? From New York?” He watched carefully for her reaction.

Red had to think hard; she’d met so many eligible bachelors, a fair few of them in New York where she most often lived, that it was a challenge to distinguish one bore from another. But she’d hesitated too long, and that in itself was an answer.

“Apparently not,” Steven commented dryly, his amusement obvious.

Red blushed, and her eyes flicked again to the mirror behind him. Steven almost felt compelled to look too, wondering what captivated her so.

He turned again to his menu. “So are you hungry, Red?”

“I haven’t eaten yet today,” she replied, and, as an afterthought, “I had quite an active afternoon.”

The added comment seemed to suggest something of significance, but Steven didn’t care to enquire; he wanted to keep her off balance, not give her the opportunity to tell him of her trip to the gym.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.” He closed the menu and gestured towards the politely attentive waiter.

“We’ll both have the tomato and burrata salad to start, with the chateaubriand to follow.” He ignored Red’s pointed look.

“Of course, sir. How would you care for it to be cooked?”

“Rare, obviously.”

“Of course, sir. And some wine?”

Steven hadn’t opened the wine menu. “Chateau Lafite. 2009 if you have it.”

“Very good, sir.”

The waiter took the menus and disappeared.

“Do you always order for your date?” Red asked, and Steven was pleased to detect a bite in her tone.

“No,” he replied frankly, still amused at the direction the evening had taken, and curious how she would respond. But one didn’t dance around a girl in crotchless panties; he already knew what he was going to order for dessert.

“How have I earned the special treatment?” She seemed put out, he realized, and the thought entertained him.

Steven slowly leant back in his seat as he regarded her. “You’re a different type of girl to my usual date.”

He watched as she took a sip of her drink by way of reply. Evidently, she couldn’t argue the point in that dress with that makeup. They both knew this wasn’t the way these arranged dates usually went, not in the circles they both frequented. No, there was a set way of doing things, and this most certainly wasn’t it. Her glass came away with a tinge of black lipstick, as if to emphasize the fact.

“You’re arrogant,” she accused, and he smiled as she went on the offensive.

“Confidence is often mistaken for arrogance.”

“Oh? And what merits such confidence?”

He watched her face carefully so as to not miss her reaction. “Your choice of underwear.”

Red started, her glass jerking slightly in her hand, the champagne almost spilling. A blush rapidly infused her face, the paleness of her complexion making it all the more obvious. Steven couldn’t help but be intrigued; most girls who wore crotchless panties had long since forgotten how to blush. Red was continuing to surprise him, and he was enjoying himself all the more.

But he wasn’t about to let her off the hook.

Steven rested his arm on the back of the seat against which they both sat and leant slowly into her space, keeping her eyes locked with his. He let his other hand lie on the edge of the table before her.

“Spread your knees,” he murmured quietly, giving his confidence – or his arrogance – free reign.

Somehow, he knew she’d obey.

Red looked down, unable to meet his eyes, then once again glanced at the mirror behind him. That was becoming irritating, and Steven wondered what it was that distracted her so. Perhaps there was someone she knew in the restaurant… yes, that made sense. It would explain her sudden nervousness, the way she’d frozen when she’d first glimpsed the mirror. Yes, it seemed obvious now: she’d caught sight of someone’s reflection. To be dressed as she was and then to see someone she’d recognised – she’d clearly been caught off guard. If she could see that person in the mirror, perhaps she thought they would be watching her too. It was one thing to be told to spread one’s knees beneath the protection of a tablecloth, but quite another to do so when someone she knew might be watching.

Steven didn’t care; he had nothing to lose if she said ‘no’ or bolted. And she’d come dressed for this; why else wear such a get-up to dinner? He knew with certainty that she wanted this, and it was his certainty that carried the confidence to which he’d alluded.

For a long moment neither moved. He watched her face, and she seemed to watch that damn mirror.

Then her eyes lowered, her blush deepened, and slowly he felt her shift on the seat beside him, her thigh nudging gently against his knee as she spread her legs.

Steven felt his pulse accelerate and fought to keep a smile of triumph from his face. Instead, his hand slipped gradually, teasingly, from the edge of the table, and he brushed his fingertips against her bare skin.

Red started at his touch, as though it were unwelcome or surprising, yet she’d made no noise of dissent and obeyed his command. He let his fingers lightly caress along the inside of her thigh.

“I know what you want,” he said softly, watching her face as his fingers inched leisurely towards his goal, “what you had planned for this evening.”

Red didn’t reply; didn’t meet his gaze. Probably couldn’t, by this point. He could almost taste her embarrassment and sent a silent ‘thank you’ to the stranger somewhere in the restaurant that was inadvertently adding such spice to their encounter.

Steven’s wandering fingers reached the delicate skin of her inner thigh, a mere whisper from her core, and he paused, stroking gently, content now to prolong the anticipation.

Her breathing had quickened, he noticed; her arousal was evident. Her lips were slightly parted, and he realized he wanted to see her eyes.

“Look at me.”

Red raised her eyes slowly, as if compelled, as if it took effort. It was almost as if she were reluctant, yet he knew she was not. If she were, she would not have dressed so. If she were, there was nothing stopping her getting up and leaving. No, it was obvious she was willing, however reluctant she may pretend to be. Such an opportunity came along rarely, and Steven planned to make the most of it.

Her eyes held a depth of emotion he hadn’t anticipated. Steven had expected her to be excited, or perhaps challenging; what he hadn’t expected was to see such consternation. It almost made him stop, to second-guess her desire. Yet, within, he saw arousal too, for her eyes glittered with it, and as he watched she unconsciously licked nervously at her lip. His fingers nudged closer, for he now knew what he would find: she was unquestionably aroused, and the only question that remained was how wet she was.

The waiter chose that moment to arrive with their entrées, disturbing the tableau, and Steven leant back slowly, lifting his hand.

Red released her breath with a shudder, as though she’d been holding it; Steven felt her thigh move away.

“I didn’t tell you to close your knees,” he said clearly, and to his amusement Red glanced at the waiter, blushed, and once more her leg pushed gently against his.

The waiter kept a perfectly impassive face as he set their order before them and departed as unobtrusively as he’d arrived.

Steven watched her for a long moment as Red sat, her knees still obediently parted, as if awaiting his command. Which she was, he came to understand; her submission, his control of her, was another surprise of the evening, and one that delighted him.

He wondered how far he could take it.

Once more he leant into her, his hand dropping between her legs.

But her eyes had lowered anew. “Look at me, Red.” His voice was assured, and he waited until she’d obeyed him.

It was a pleasure to see the emotions play across her face, but Steven wanted more. He wanted to force her to react, to acknowledge his control of her, to acknowledge what her body craved.

He ran his fingers lightly along her thigh, and this time he didn’t stop.

She was as smooth and as silky as the glimpse she’d inadvertently afforded had promised. Red took a sharp intake of breath as he caressed her, running two fingers lightly over her labia while a third pushed gently between. She was as aroused as he’d envisaged, his probing finger quickly becoming coated with her slick wetness, and his lips twitched in amusement at the confirmation.

He used his outer fingers to spread her lips open more and slid his middle finger between, his fingertip grazing over her delicate entrance, before slipping up in her silky wetness and flicking over her clit. All the while he watched her face.

Red gasped involuntarily as his fingers touched her. Interestingly, it still seemed to him as if she were conflicted, for as he caressed her she squirmed in the seat awkwardly, as though she wanted to pull away, yet could not. She was a bewildering contradiction; evidently, she’d come prepared for this, encouraging it almost, and too she was obviously aroused, yet he kept receiving the impression she was acting against her will. He couldn’t help but wonder if she would stand up, slap him, and storm out – but she hadn’t so far, and still didn’t.

He dipped his finger down towards her opening once more, testing her, flicking the tip across her entrance. Again her body seemed to shiver as though she hoped he wouldn’t penetrate her, even as a small whimper of arousal slipped from her lips. Originally, he hadn’t intended to go so far – merely to lightly tease – but her reaction was so intriguing that he was curious whether she’d allow it.

Watching her face closely he deliberately pushed, his fingertip slipping easily through her wet folds into the entrance of her, yet she merely bit her bottom lip and twitched slightly in the seat. Steven didn’t understand the source of her reluctance or even if he’d completely misread it, but it no longer mattered – his finger had penetrated her, she’d made no sound of protest, and she’d obeyed his every command thus far.

At last he understood: her reluctance was merely a war within herself. It made complete sense, when viewed in the light of her reserved upbringing, the pressures of always having to behave just so. Poor Red was clearly sexually repressed, and yet desperate for someone to draw her from her shell. It explained everything: the consternation, the signs of reluctance, the mitigating arousal and the total absence of refusal.

Perhaps she was a slave to her own needs and desires, he reasoned. Yes, a prim and proper girl held constrained for too long, now away from home, fighting to let out her inner slut. Well, Steven had no issue helping her with that. It was the magnanimous thing to do. It seemed to him then that he could take her anyway he wished, and she would submit to him.

He decided to test her, to push the boundaries and see how willing and obliging she really was.

Steven slipped his fingers from her and raised them slowly, the evidence of her arousal obviously coating his skin, and her eyes were inexorably drawn to them as he lifted them to her mouth.

“Open,” he said softly, and again Red’s eyes flicked to the mirror before her lips parted. He slid his wet finger inside her mouth, penetrating her again, and she whimpered quietly as her lips closed around him, sucking him. He felt her exquisite tongue lick delicately against him, once more confirming to him her utter submission, despite the haunted look in her eyes.

He explored her mouth with his finger, sliding it slowly back and then pushing in again, her black lipstick a startling contrast to the paleness of her skin as her lips wrapped around him. All the while her tongue licked at him gently, unbidden but welcome, and he wondered if she knew how submissive and suggestive that was. Though we are well past ‘suggestive’ now, he thought, as she licked the last remnants of her own wetness from his skin.

Again he sought to test her, and, pulling his finger from her mouth, he once more slipped his hand between her legs. He pushed inside her deeper than before, feeling the silky tightness of her around his finger, watching her face all the while as he proved to her that he could do what he wished, and she would do nothing to resist. Indeed, she merely shivered at his touch and whimpered as he slid inside her, and when he raised his hand to her mouth, she took him in, licking and sucking, without needing to be told.

“Good girl,” he commended her softly, and she seemed to shiver at his praise. Her eyes held his with a pleading expression even as her tongue lapped against his digit, and Steven wondered if she was pleading for discretion, or for him to stop, or for him to take her deeper into her sexual awakening and do what he wished with her. It didn’t much matter; he’d already decided which option he was going with.

Steven slipped his finger from her mouth and turned back to the table, casually picking up his fork and addressing himself to the delicious salad that had been presented. Beside him, Red took a steadying breath, and then another, before slowly lifting her own fork in imitation.

He was amused to feel that she still hadn’t closed her knees. Granted, he hadn’t told her she could, but what an invitation! It seemed cruel to deprive her, and his other hand slipped between them even as he took another bite of his food. He toyed with her, teased her, his fingertips caressing her folds, occasionally flicking over her clit or pushing against her opening. For some moments he carried on so, very much enjoying both the food and the girl.

For her part she ate slowly, clearly distracted by his fingers between her legs, and from time to time she would emit the most pleasing little whimpers, or glance across at him with those pleading eyes.

Steven spiked his last piece of burrata and tomato on his fork, wiped it through the remnants of the balsamic glaze, and lifted it to his mouth. Red’s plate was still more than half-full; his fingers, it seemed, had disturbed her appetite, however hungry she might have been. Yet it was obvious that what she really wanted was something else entirely, judging by how she was now squirming in her seat, whimpering more frequently, and even occasionally pushing herself against his probing fingers. It seemed any dregs of reluctance had lost out to her growing arousal, and if he’d had any doubt, all his fingers were slick with her wetness.

He waved the waiter over with his other hand.

“I’m afraid my guest this evening is not feeling quite herself, and I need to take her back to her room. You will need to cancel the chateaubriand.”

The waiter failed to hide his surprise, “But sir, we have opened the Chateau Lafite.”

“We’ll take it to go. Put it on my account.”

“Very good, sir.” The waiter bowed slightly to cover his relief and stepped away.

Steven slipped his slick fingers from Red’s body and with the same hand grasped her chin, turning her face to his.

“I am curious,” he said, holding her chin firmly while he wiped one slick finger along her cheek, leaving the residue of her own arousal on her face: Red’s eyes flashed fire for a brief moment, before lowering submissively. He grinned, then continued, “Who is it that has distracted you in the mirror since we’ve been here?”

She looked at him in sudden alarm, her eyes widening in near panic, but she said nothing in reply.

“Would you not care to greet them as we leave?” he asked, a note of mockery in his tone.

Again Red glanced at the mirror, and it was clear she could not help the reaction. “I know no one here,” and he knew she was lying.

“My father is quite prominent in this city, you know,” he said, his voice soft and his tone feigning indifference. “I could force you to orgasm with my fingers until you were crying out your passion, and no one here would say anything.”

“Please don’t,” she whispered, consternation written across her beautiful face.

“Why shouldn’t I?” he asked, “You just lied to me. I’m sure I would soon find out who knows you in here, once you’re pinned across the table with my hand inside your cunt, screaming your orgasm while the other diners try to eat.”

She met his eyes with an earnest expression, as if desperate to convince him. “Please, I beg you, there’s no one here I know, I swear it.” Her earnest attempts to persuade him seemed so genuine, so heartfelt, that he almost believed her.

“Then it would hardly matter to you if I do,” he said, and keeping a tight grip on her chin, his other hand dropped once more between her legs.

“No, please, Steven.” Her face was frantic even as he slid a finger inside her, his thumb flicking over her clit. She gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily against his hand, and her eyes yet again – always again – checked the mirror behind him. “Please,” she let slip a small cry as he pushed deeper inside her sex, and from the corner of his eye he noticed a glance or two in their direction. Evidently so had she. “Please don’t. Not in public. I’ll do anything,” she begged, “please, Steven.”

He smiled disdainfully. “Anything?”

“Anything!” and her desperation was exquisite.

“Very well. You are mine for tonight.”

Her eyes flicked again to the mirror behind him and whatever it was she saw clearly affected her, for as he watched her eyes widened as if in shock. What was she looking at? He considered asking, but first he wanted her response to his demand. He waited, watching her expression, his words still hanging in the air. She took a deep breath, her body seeming to shudder with the intensity of some response – whether to him or what she’d seen in the mirror he couldn’t be sure. But then she turned her gaze to him, her eyes still wide with the intensity of her emotions and she nodded. It was slightly jerky, abrupt almost, as if again she didn’t want to acquiesce. But it mattered not; she’d agreed, and without a word of protest, objection, or an attempt to negotiate.

Steven smiled, amused. The frequent glances to the mirror no longer annoyed him; rather, it felt as if whatever she’d seen in there had only helped him.

Such had been her capitulation that he thought to push his advantage, curious as to how deep her submission ran.

“You will obey me, willingly and completely.”

He felt a thrill as she nodded again, but then her eyes looked at him with such desperation, such panic, that he was tempted – for the briefest of moments – to release her. Yet surely that wasn’t what she really wanted? And it certainly wasn’t what he wanted.

“Say it,” he instructed, for he wanted there to be no doubt of their agreement, of what it was she was agreeing to, committing to.

Yet again she glanced at the mirror behind him, and when she answered her voice sounded wooden, disembodied, as though it was not fully hers. “I will obey you, willingly and completely.”

Her confirmation removed what little doubt he had remaining. “What a good little slut you are.” He murmured to her, slipping his fingers from inside her and wiping them on her inner thigh. She shivered most deliciously in response. “There, that should be apparent to anyone who cares to glance at you as we walk out.” He looked at her directly, “You are not to wipe your arousal from your leg as we leave, do you understand?”

“Yes, Steven,” her voice was timid, resigned, and he knew he had her completely.

He smiled in satisfaction and pushed himself up from his seat, watching as she followed him. She was unable to slide along the seat without her dress rucking up, and her arousal, glistening on her skin, was most pleasing to his eyes.

His hand was low in the small of her back as he led her to the exit. “They’ll probably only notice your wetness if they look, anyway,” he murmured reassuringly as they walked. “I can’t imagine anyone would want to look at you in such a short dress, though, would they?”

Head after head turned to follow them as they left, and Steven smiled and walked a little taller, even as his fingers splayed down possessively over the curve of her upper ass. He paused only long enough to accept the bottle of Chateau Lafite.

Their limousine was waiting, and he held the door for her as he had before. Red entered carefully, her knees gracefully pushed close, and Steven chuckled aloud. It was far too late for that.

He walked around to the other side and climbed in. “Take us back to the hotel,” he instructed the chauffeur, before turning his attention to Red. “Did you enjoy dinner?” he inquired politely, smiling.

She glanced at him, her face blushing, then lowered her eyes. “Yes, thank you.”

Steven turned in his chair, angling himself to improve his view of her. “Slip your dress from your right shoulder.”

The chauffeur twitched and glanced up at the driver’s mirror, and Steven saw that Red had noticed too. He’d clearly heard, and it amused Steven. He watched as Red closed her eyes briefly, even as she reached up to the strap and pushed it off. The material fell loose down her arm, and the dress bunched over her breast. A moment later the car jerked slightly over a road bump, and the dress fell completely, her right breast exposed to Steven’s eyes.

Her bare breast was mostly in shadow, the orange glow of the streetlights occasionally illuminating her skin, and Steven saw that her nipple was firm, hard, and straining upwards. He reached across the gap between their seats and flicked it with one finger.

“You have beautiful breasts,” he said softly, even as he grasped her nipple between finger and thumb, and gently pulled.

“Thank you,” she breathed, and he saw that she was chewing on her lip as she had earlier; a self-conscious gesture that seemed to express not only her discomfort but her arousal, too.

Steven pulled a little harder, watching with pleasure as her breast stretched slightly out, and Red took a quick breath. Her hands were tightly clasped in her lap, and even in the shadows he could see that her knuckles were white.

He rolled her nipple between finger and thumb, pulling further still, and was finally rewarded with a small whimper.

He released her and leant back in his seat, but he hadn’t given her permission to cover herself, and she made no move to do so. Steven smiled to himself again; her submission was his to play with, and he reveled in the anticipation.

They spent the rest of the brief journey in silence: Steven watching her, Red sitting quite still with her breast exposed, staring out of the window of the car rather than looking at him.

The car slowed, then stopped. “Your hotel, sir, madam,” came the chauffeur’s voice, and Steven knew he’d have taken the opportunity to thoroughly check the driver’s mirror.

It seems to be a night for mirrors, thought Steven, and smiled to himself.

“You may replace your strap before we go inside… unless you’d prefer not to?”

Red almost seemed to hesitate, as though she was considering it, her fingers seeming to fight her wishes to leave herself half-bared, but in the end, she appeared to think better of it and slid her strap back into place, once again covering her breast. It wouldn’t stay that way for long, Steven knew.

They caught several stares as they walked across the lobby to the elevator, but Steven saw that Red held her head high and her spine straight. Of course, in a dress that short it was the only way to walk without flashing the bottom curves of her ass, but nevertheless it was good to see that she still had her spirit. It would’ve been disappointing if she’d let her standards slip; part of being the elite in society meant that one needed to keep up appearances, especially when life was challenging.

The elevator was empty – unless you counted the bellboy, which Steven didn’t. He took her into his arms as soon as the doors closed.

“Kiss me like you mean it,” he said.

Every elevator seems to have mirrors, and this one was no exception. He almost raised an eyebrow as once more her gaze seemed to slip past him and to one side; clearly there was no one there she knew. He would have accused her of chronic vanity, except that she never seemed to be looking at her own direct reflection. Perhaps it was a habit, or maybe she even had a need to constantly look over her shoulder. Yet a moment later his thoughts were interrupted because Red pushed herself against him, going up on her toes as she did so, and her mouth was hungrily seeking his.

Steven kissed her back, their tongues entwining as she kissed aggressively, pushing into his mouth. He slid one hand swiftly down her back, the other needed to hold the bottle of wine. He reached low, cupping her ass and pulling her firmly against him. Her dress had risen up and his fingers touched bare skin; the crotchless panties only barely covered the middle of her bottom, and he growled his sudden arousal with the combined sensations.

The ride to her floor seemed all-too brief, and as the lift smoothly came to a stop, he broke the kiss. Red seemed to press against him still, her breathing a little ragged, before slipping slightly from him and blushing. It amused him that she had apparently lost herself in the moment, and her reaction showed that at heart she was still innocent. Her behaviour seemed at odds with her nature, yet that only served to make her more interesting to him.

The bellboy seemed to start as the elevator doors opened, and Steven realized the man had been more interested in Red’s ass than his job. Red didn’t seem to notice and walked out, fishing inside her clutch for her room card as she did so. Steven was more amused than angry, but it was one thing the clientele of Jean-Georges enjoying her aesthetic pleasures, and quite another when a mere bellboy overstepped himself. His expression as he passed the man left him in no doubt that his attention should be elsewhere, and the bellboy straightened, swallowed nervously, and began to repeatedly push the button for the lobby.

Steven forgot about him and followed Red. She’d reached her door and had it open as he caught up with her.

The penthouse was conservative by his standards, but still had a reasonable living space. It opened into a seating area, and Steven set down the bottle on a convenient table as he removed his suit jacket and lay it over the back of the couch, while Red hovered nearby, suddenly showing her nervousness.

“We need something for the wine,” he suggested.

“Yes… of course.” She seemed pleased to have something to do, and it helped to break the threat of an awkward moment. He picked up the bottle again as she found two long-stemmed glasses, and as the bottle had already been opened it was a simple matter to extract the stopper. He poured while she held, and the dark-ruby liquid swirled into each glass. He set down the bottle and she handed him a glass, but rather than propose a toast he simply tasted it and went to explore the suite.

It was obvious where the bedroom was, and he showed himself in. The room was grand enough, the décor uninspiring, with a neutral theme common in hotel chains. An array of mirrors covered the wall to one side, and to the other lay the bed. Upon it, casually draped across as if discarded, lay a conservative, white, boring dress, and he raised an eyebrow as he saw it. Yes, that’s what he’d been expecting, and it was curious that she’d had it all along. Intuitively, he realized that the black dress had been an impulse purchase – perhaps even here at the hotel boutique – and it made him wonder if she’d had the crotchless panties already, or whether those too had been a recent acquisition.

He shook his head, chuckling to himself. It seemed so out of character for her, and he couldn’t help but wonder what had spurred her sudden change of fashion. Yet it was not in his nature to question a gift, and a gift she most certainly was.

Beyond the bed was a set of French doors, already open, with a balcony beyond. Steven stepped out into the cool evening air, sipping his wine as he took in the view of the city. He blinked in surprise as he saw a pair of lace panties on the floor of the balcony and chuckled softly to himself. So, that answers the question about her recent acquisitions.

He heard Red behind him and turned, leaning back casually against the rail as he watched her in the bedroom. She still looked nervous, as though she didn’t know what to do with the man in her rooms, as if she wished to ask him to leave and couldn’t find the words. Steven smiled to himself as he watched her; much of her appeal came from her apparent naivety, the conflict within her. It was enticing. The girl who leaves panties on her balcony floor and chooses to dress like this, instead.

Why she’d chosen those clothes was a mystery, but he still didn’t care enough to inquire.

“Remove your dress.”

She took a steadying breath and, with the inevitable glance at the closest mirror, set her glass down.

She slipped first one strap then the other from her shoulders, and in a moment the dress had pooled at her feet. She stepped free of it, brushing it to one side with her foot as though she never wanted to wear it again. Her breasts were stunning, and the crotchless panties delightfully obscene. They framed her beautifully, transforming her from naked innocence into a slutty whore. Her fingers slipped into the waist band in preparation to push them off, but he stopped her.

“No, leave those. I like them.” And indeed he did; the evening would have been unlikely to follow the path it had if, in the restaurant, she’d flashed him something more conservative. Oh, they’d probably have ended up here, even so, but not with the power dynamic they had now.

It seemed only fair to give the panties their due.

“Turn around,” he said, his tone casual yet firm.

A glance at the mirror – by now he’d have been disappointed if she hadn’t – and slowly, she turned before him. The panties were even more revealing from the back; it was as if her ass wasn’t covered at all, and the intriguing crack between her cheeks was more on display than not.

“Very nice,” he complimented. “Look at me.”

She turned and obeyed, standing gorgeous before him, he on the balcony, she but mere feet away, yet still inside.

“Have you been out here?” he asked, sipping his wine, the discarded panties clear evidence that she had.

“Yes.” Her monosyllabic answers weren’t giving him the fun he desired, but there was still time for that.

“It’s pleasant view,” he said as he ran his eyes over her, and smiled again as she tried to work out whether he meant her or the city.

“Yes,” she said again, her voice unsure.

He brushed her discarded panties with his shoe, a deliberate act that drew her attention. “Were you out here naked?” he asked, teasingly.

She hesitated, a sudden blush infusing her pale skin as her eyes were drawn to the evidence of her previous indiscretion. “Yes.”

Steven raised an eyebrow. Who’d have thought she was an exhibitionist? It was one thing to find discarded undergarments, but another to hear her confirm it. Yet still he hadn’t got the rise he’d sought. Something more was needed.

“Ever been fucked on a balcony?”

She glanced at him, and her answer was wary. “No…”

“Would you like to be?” Another sip of his wine as he watched her reaction.

He saw her open her mouth as if to reply, then she paused and looked directly into the mirror beside her. For a long moment she seemed to just stare at it, and he wondered if she was even going to answer him. But as he waited, Red’s hands began to touch her own body; one slid up over her stomach, coming to cup her own breast. The other slipped between her legs, her fingers lightly stroking herself.

Steven swallowed, mesmerized as she put on a show for him. Was this her way of answering him? If it was, then damn… it was a good answer. He stepped quickly back into the room, his wine glass now an encumbrance he no longer desired. A table just inside the door provided the solution.

Red was a vision to behold; she seemed transfixed by her own reflection, the hand on her breast now pinching her own nipple, while with the one between her legs she spread herself open. Yet it was her face that captivated him, for one moment she seemed lost in her own pleasure, and the next she seemed almost scared.

“Red?” he asked softly.

She looked at him suddenly, her expression wrought with her conflict. “Please….”

He took a step closer. “Please what?”

She didn’t reply, but he saw such yearning in her face. Her hand was still moving between her legs, and it drew his eyes. Her fingers were rubbing either side of her clit, not quite touching, as if she was delighting in torturing herself.

He took another step forward, and now they were mere inches apart. He raised one hand to her face, laying his palm against her cheek, and immediately she pushed into it, nuzzling against his hand, whimpering softly against him.

He closed the distance between them, his other hand coming up to fully cup her face. Between them, her hand still moved over her pussy, and it was obvious how wet she was. The fingers on her nipple twisted, pulled, and another whimper slipped out.

“I’m going to take you and make you mine,” he murmured, his own arousal pushing at his self-control.

“I know you will, I’ve seen it,” she whispered, and her body trembled before him.

Steven glanced at her curiously, trying to interpret her comment as figurative, but it seemed oddly specific. Yet it was easier to dismiss it for the moment – he had other things on his mind. He pulled her hands from her with his, pushing them behind her back, holding them and using them to tug her against him, and his mouth came down over hers. She moaned her passion beneath his kiss, her body pushing against him, held by him but pushed by her, her breasts crushed to his chest, her mouth open to him, her tongue licking desperately at his.

He released her hands to reach for the buttons of his shirt, but it wasn’t fast enough for her. She simply took a side in each hand and pulled, and the shirt ripped open, buttons flying free, some clattering against the mirror near them.

Her mouth was on his bare chest, kissing, licking, and as she did so her hands dropped to his belt, tugging it loose. He pulled the shirt from his shoulders, stripped it from his arms and let it fall to the floor, and she had his belt open, and his buttons undone. She dropped to her knees before him, her small fingers working to pull down his zipper and push his suit pants open.

“I know this is what you want,” she whispered as if to herself, but he heard her clearly in the quiet of the room. Yet she was right; perhaps it was that obvious, but he couldn’t deny she was right. “You’re going to come in my throat,” and his cock twitched violently as he heard her words.

She yanked down his clothes, boxers too, and his cock sprang free, at last released from its constraints. Immediately, Red’s mouth was on him, and Steven gasped at the warmth and wetness she offered. Her hands slid behind him to his naked ass, and she pulled him deeper into her. He shuddered with pleasure as her throat opened to him, her tongue sliding against him, the feel of her lips sucking him into her. Red drew back slowly, licking him all the while, before taking a breath and once more driving herself forward onto his manhood.

Steven instinctively fisted his hands in her hair, the hunger with which she pleasured him too intense for a more compassionate reaction. He pulled her against him, aided by her fingers digging into his ass cheeks, and he groaned aloud as again her throat enveloped him. In a moment of clear thought, he marveled at her skills; how could such an apparently inexperienced girl perform as she was? But as she drove forward until her lips were once more against his groin, her throat squeezing him with a pleasure he’d rarely experienced, all coherent thought was driven from him, and he could only shudder in the ecstasy of it.

Red slipped off him, a trail of her saliva making his hardness slick, and as she wrapped her hand around him her tongue licked down to his balls. She looked up at him as she pleasured him with her mouth, any doubt or reluctance completely gone from her eyes; now her only desire was to please him, and she seemed to revel in it.

“God, the taste of you,” she murmured against him, her voice laced with her wanton hunger, but too it sounded as if she was surprised, as if she couldn’t understand the strength of her need for him. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment, and before he had a chance to react, she had taken him into her mouth once more.

She was so eager, so enthusiastic, and her mouth was so soft, willing and wet, her throat so tight about him. Steven felt his climax nearing, his urge to fill her mouth with his seed, and while he might have hesitated, might have sought to save himself for a while longer, Red seemed insistent; her one-handed grip on his ass hadn’t loosened; rather, her fingers were pushing more towards its centre, and his hips bucked involuntarily against her mouth as she slid a fingertip down his crack.

“…Fuck…” he gasped, his hands bracing himself against her head, his cock twitching once more in her throat. She hadn’t even gagged, he realized; it was as if she was possessed with the single-minded desire of sucking his cum from him, and it was all he could do to control himself long enough to prolong the pleasure. Red’s mouth was incredible; an experience unlike he had ever known before, and he was quickly passing the point of no return. It seemed redundant to warn her; hadn’t she told him already she wanted his cum in her throat? He closed his eyes, his head thrown back in ecstasy, and with a grunt he erupted into her mouth.

Red sucked and swallowed, swirling her tongue around him, and then he felt her shudder beneath his hands. She was moaning around him even as he filled her mouth with his seed, and he realized that, remarkably, she was also in the throes of orgasm. The simple act of pleasuring him had driven her to her own peak, and they came together as again he spurted into her mouth.

Steven opened his eyes, looking down at her in wonder as she continued to lap at him. She had swallowed all he had given her without spilling any, and now her hand squeezed his shaft firmly, as if she was trying to milk every last drop of his cum. Her tongue lapped against the head of him, and it was almost too sensitive, almost too much to bear, but she seemed to sense it and lapped more softly, licking delicately at just the tip of him.

She shivered with her own pleasure a final time as she extracted all that she could from his cock, and he looked down at her with amazement, unable to believe his own senses.

“Did you just come sucking my cock?”

She looked up at him, his manhood still held in one small hand, her faced pressed against the underside of him, and even despite what she’d just done, and the position she was in, she still managed to blush.

“I… I guess.” She placed a kiss on the side of his shaft, her eyes closed and her lips and tongue working together, and it was the most sensual, loving kiss he’d ever received. “You taste so amazing,” she murmured. “I… I love it,” and again he got the impression she was talking more to herself than to him.

Steven took a step back, grateful that the bed was so close behind him, and sat down heavily, his legs suddenly weak. He paused for a moment, taking a breath, before pulling his clothing from his legs and dropping it to the side.

Red crawled forward, nestling between his knees, her face once more pushed up against his groin, and slowly she began to lick at him again. It was as if she couldn’t get enough of his taste, as if something was driving her to wallow in his every essence.

“That was incredible,” he said, watching her, and she smiled up at him from between his legs, even as her hand rubbed gently along his shaft, and her lips and tongue kissed him wherever she could reach.

“I need to lie down!” he chuckled, and shifted further back on the bed, shoving the discarded, white dress carelessly to the floor as he did so. He turned, lying prone with a sigh, his eyes closed. He felt Red crawl onto the bed beside him, one hand resting lightly on the back of his thigh. “I’m certainly not done with you yet, but give me a minute. Or five.”

Steven felt her push against him, the delight of her soft breasts as she rubbed them over his back, and then her lips kissed gently at the back of his neck.

“That’s nice,” he said, relaxing beneath her touch.

Red slid over him, her breasts pushing into his back, her hips against his butt. He felt her moist sex rub over his ass, leaving his skin slightly damp. It was not unpleasant. She kissed his shoulders, lips and tongue working in unison to leave a trail of pleasing, damp kisses across his skin. She licked softly across to his spine and placed more kisses on either side. Each time, she would press her lips to his skin then lick gently with her tongue, and the combined effect was more than any kiss or lick he’d enjoyed before. He wondered why no one else had done that to him.

She trailed her kisses lower, her breasts rubbing enticingly over his ass. It was enough for his cock to begin to stir again, and it had only been a minute or two.

Steven felt her hands on his buttocks, her breasts now pushing against his legs. Her kisses trailed down to the small of his back, a trail of wet licks following after.

“What are you doing?” he murmured.

“I can’t help it,” she breathed against his skin, “I have to taste you. All of you.”

The tone of need in her voice should perhaps have concerned him; it seemed too strong for the situation, too out-of-character for Red’s upbringing and expected behaviour. But Steven was enjoying it too much to stop her, and besides, she’d shown such strong reactions all evening.

Her mouth reached his butt, licking and kissing along the curve of his ass cheeks, and occasionally she would punctuate her kisses with little sounds of pleasure. Steven felt her small hands push against his cheeks, and her tongue began to explore the cleft between. His hips twitched beneath her.

“Oh fuck, Red…”

“Please don’t make me stop,” and her quiet words of desperation were muffled against him, her mouth not leaving his skin as she spoke. Her tongue licked firmly, probing his ass, and Steven let out a shuddering breath.

“Don’t stop.”

She mewled with pleasure at his permission, and her tongue immediately drove deeper, her hands pushing his cheeks apart. She licked long, slow strokes, the wetness of her mouth making the crack of his ass slick, then she pushed against his hole with the tip of her tongue, and he felt it wriggle part-way inside.

“…God…” he gasped, his hips involuntarily pushing back against her mouth, lost in the pleasure of the sensations she was creating. Deeper still her tongue probed while her hands massaged his ass, and Steven pushed his face into the bed, his hips raised, the pleasure almost a torture.

Red moaned again and again as he felt her tongue caress and explore him, and her breath began to come in pants against his damp skin. Then her moans gradually increased in pitch, her licking growing wilder, and with a final cry he felt her body tremble against him. Her licking slowed as Steven released his own shuddering breath.

“Did you just come?” he asked in disbelief, his voice slightly muffled by the bed. Perhaps she’d been touching herself as she licked him, he thought… but no, she couldn’t have; both her hands had been on his ass.

“I… I couldn’t help it,” she said, her voice sounding small and embarrassed.

He reached down for her, finding a hand, pulling her up to lie beside him on the bed. She lay on her side, facing him, her face flushed with her recent orgasm, her chest still heaving as she breathed heavily. Her breasts were tinged red with a blush, and her nipples were hard, pointed nubs.

He stared at her. “You lick my ass like your life depends on it and come while doing so, and you… couldn’t help it?”

“The… the mirror made me do it,” she said, blushing deeply, unable to meet his gaze.

“The mirror made you do it?” he asked, half amused and half incredulous.

Red nodded, her eyes still lowered. Steven reached for her, lifting her chin with one finger until he could see her face. “Is it going to make you do anything else?” he asked, teasingly.

“Yes,” she whispered, and reached for him.

Steven let her pull him over her, her legs spreading open beneath him, her hands sliding around his back to hold him against her. Though it hadn’t been long since she’d made him come in her mouth, her tongue in his ass, the pleasure she’d given him, and the feeling of her orgasming against him had driven his arousal, and he was hard where he pressed against her open wetness.

“I need you inside me,” and again her voice held a note of desperation.

“You’re a little nympho, aren’t you?” he muttered, rubbing himself against her.

“It’s… it’s not me…” she gasped, arching her back, “it’s the mirror….”

He didn’t really understand her game, but that didn’t matter. She was naked and wet and welcoming, and oh so eager for him. She reached down between them, taking him in her hand, and they gasped together as she fed him into her waiting sex.

Steven relished her enthusiasm, the way that with every act she performed she held nothing back. It was like she had no inhibitions, as though she was drunk on… something. But he was beyond questioning, and all he wanted to do was drive his hips forward into her.

She cried out her pleasure as he filled her, and she was so wet, so aroused, that he slipped in easily. Yet the silken walls of her pussy gripped him tightly and immediately clenched about him. She shuddered beneath him, and her channel clenched again; he realized to his amazement that she had come as soon as he’d entered her. Her head was pushed back against the bed in rapture, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted with her ragged breathing, and she clutched desperately to him with both her arms and legs, wrapping her limbs around him as he slowly fucked her.

The only sounds were those of their lovemaking: her high-pitched whimpers with each thrust he made, his grunts of effort to push between the tightly-gripping walls of her sex.

She gasped for breath beneath him, sobbing, almost to herself, “It’s too much, it’s too much… no…” but she never relented in her grip on him, and he could only watch in wonder as she experienced yet another, explosive orgasm, her pussy tightening about him as she came.

Steven held himself deeply within her as her body trembled beneath him in the aftermath of her climax, her sex flooding with wetness yet still sending pleasurable after-tremor clenches around him.

It was the best sex Steven had ever had, and he wanted to experience all she had to offer. He knew he’d never get another chance at a night like this. He slipped from her and pushed himself to his knees, looking down at her. She lay open to his eyes, her arms lying loosely against the bed, her milky skin red about her throat and neck and down over her flushed breasts. He had rarely seen anything so beautiful; it was a shame she was so… odd.

“Turn over,” he said, as he pushed himself off the bed. He had an idea of how to finish the evening, to make it as memorable as he could.

Slowly, she rolled on to her belly, extending both her legs and arms out, lying diagonally across the bed. Her perfect ass wiggled at him, and she turned her head to her side so that she could see him. “You could use the ties from the guest robes in the bathroom.”

Steven blinked in surprise. How could she possibly have known what he’d been thinking…?

“…Thank you,” he said hesitantly, his brow furrowing, and walked naked into the bathroom. She watched him, lying perfectly still, waiting for him to do what he wished with her.

Steven shook his head. It was eerie how she had guessed what he’d had in mind, but perhaps it was nothing more than shared lust. It took him but a moment to find the guest robes and pull their ties free of their loops. He’d intended to simply tie her up and fuck her from behind, but she’d anticipated it. He looped the ties in his hands as he considered how he could up the ante.

Her ass drew his eyes immediately when he walked back into the bedroom; two perfectly shaped curves either side of that wonderfully intriguing crevice. He smiled to himself as he changed his plans. She’d anticipated him tying her, fine… but she would still be helplessly his, restrained, and somehow Steven didn’t think Red was the kind of girl who’d had her ass fucked too often. Yes, perhaps that would make her evening more memorable.

The belts from the guest robes were too thick to be truly effective, and she’d be able to struggle free eventually, but they would do to give the illusion of imprisonment.

Steven tied her wrists tightly, looping the rest of the belt around the headboard and securing it.

“I like it when you tie me,” she murmured, sounding peaceful and relaxed.

“Have you ever been tied up before?” he asked as he moved down the bed, laying one ankle over the other and looping another belt around both.

“No. But I knew I would like it.”

“Because the mirror said you would?” he asked, teasingly.

“Yes, exactly,” she replied. He shook his head, laughing softly. “You don’t believe me. I wouldn’t expect you to.” But she didn’t sound offended. It was more as if she didn’t believe it herself – but if she wanted an excuse to indulge in some sexual liberation, she could go right ahead as far as Steven was concerned.

He finished and stood straight, looking down at her: ankles and wrists tied securely, naked save for the crotchless panties that had served as his inspiration all evening. And now they would again, for her ass was mostly bare. Perfect.

“Now then, my little Red, I’m going to fuck your ass.”

“What?” she sounded surprised for the first time in the evening, and he smiled his delight.

“Have you ever had your ass fucked?” he gently traced a fingertip down the cleft between her cheeks, and her hips twitched at his touch.

“No! And… you can’t… the mirror didn’t show me that.”

“Hmm. Well. Does the mirror show you everything?” he patted her ass reassuringly.

“Yes!” she paused, “Well… maybe. I… I guess I don’t know,” she sounded hesitant for the first time.

Steven grasped her cheeks in each hand slowly, deliberately spreading her open. She whimpered delightfully. “Why don’t you ask it? You can see from there, can’t you?”

Red turned her head and glanced at the mirror, and Steven used the opportunity to spit a glob of saliva between her open cheeks.

“Oh no! It tricked me!” he heard her say, and he smiled to himself as he sucked his finger, making it wet, before pushing the tip of it against her asshole.

“What did the mirror say?” he inquired politely, as he pushed his finger into her, penetrating her.

“It… it said…” she moaned, pushing her face into the bed.

Steven slid his finger in past her ring, stretching her virgin ass. He could hardly wait to be inside her. “Yes?”

She pushed her ass back up against his finger, helping him to penetrate her, even as her face buried more into the bed.

Steven slipped his finger from her, and brought his hand down on her ass with a hard slap. “What did it say, Red?” he demanded. He still didn’t understand her fascination with mirrors, but he knew that if it worked for her, it was only to his benefit. He was quite happy to play along.

She gasped at the smack, “It said… it said I have to….”

Steven smiled again, hearing the desperation in her voice, and again his hand came down firmly on her up-turned ass. “Tell me,” and his tone would brook no dissent.

She sobbed into the bedding. “It said I have to… beg you to… fuck my ass.” She paused for a long, shuddering breath, and Steven was about to reply before she continued, “I have to… push back against you… and…” she sobbed again, but it turned into a moan of arousal, and her hips bucked beneath his hand, “…and it’s going to make me… come when you enter me… and… and… come again when you finish inside me!” She ended with a wail of shame, muffled into the bedding, but her ass rose of its own accord and pressed up against his hand.

Steven was slightly taken aback. It would’ve been amusing if she hadn’t seemed so… serious. Yet, it was also as arousing as fuck, and… well… if that’s what she wanted. “If that’s what the mirror said… do we have a choice?”

“No!” she cried, “No… there’s never any choice,” and she sounded bitter.

His finger slipped from inside her bottom. “I don’t have to do this if you don’t want me to.”

“No!” she cried again, turning her head to look at him. “You must! Please!”

Steven felt his face harden. “I must?” and his tone was dangerously cold.

Red glanced at the mirror in panic, and then back at him. “I’m so sorry… of course you mustn’t…” she gazed up at him entreatingly. “What I meant to say is… please… I beg you… please will you fuck my ass? I want it so much. Please… spank me, fuck me, please, Steven!” She lifted her delectable butt up towards him as she begged, and he had to admit she was difficult to resist.

Still, he was tempted to refuse her anyway, just to be a sadistic bastard, but then he remembered her words: It’s going to make me come when you enter me. And suddenly he just wanted to see if that would happen.

It was strange, to be begged by a beautiful girl to fuck her ass, and to hesitate for a moment as to whether or not to say ‘yes’. Not a problem he’d anticipated having when he’d woken up that morning.

“Very well,” he acquiesced.

“Oh, thank you, thank you!” she was so piteously grateful.

Steven realized his ardor had cooled somewhat when she’d told him what to do. He still had wood, but it was more pine than mahogany. He slipped his hand into her hair and drew her head to him. “Make me hard with your mouth, little slut of mine.”

“Yes…” she responded eagerly and opened her mouth for him. He pushed into her, and she licked and sucked with the enthusiasm he’d come to expect from her. He grew fully hard quickly, but her mouth was so pleasurable it was difficult to withdraw. He pushed into her throat with a groan, and reached down and slapped her ass hard as he did so.

She mmm’d around him, looking up with grateful adoration in her eyes, and her ass wiggled invitingly under his hand.

Steven stepped back, his cock slipping reluctantly from her lips. He slipped his hand between her legs, coating his fingers in the excess of her own wetness, and spread it up over her ass. “Are you ready to have your ass fucked?”

“Please, yes! Please…” Red arched her back, her head falling forward and her ass rising. Steven had to admit it was one of the most temptingly erotic sights he’d even seen, especially with her wrists and ankles bound so.

“Do you have any lotion?”

“Hmm?” Her confusion was obvious, and he couldn’t help but chuckle; evidently, she wasn’t lying when she’d said she’d never had her ass fucked.

He quickly found what he needed in the bathroom, a bottle of massage oil that would suit perfectly, and when he returned to the bedroom, she wiggled her ass at him in anticipation.

He moved to sit astride her, one knee on either side, and up ended the bottle over her crack. The oil dripped slowly onto her, viscous and slick, and she gasped softly at the sensation. He dropped the bottle and rubbed the head of his cock through the folds of her vulva. She was so wet he was quickly coated, and he slid it on up to her waiting asshole.

She was so unbelievably tight as he pushed in that he had to force his way, and she sobbed piteously into the sheets as he did so. Yet she pushed back also, and soon the tip of him had pushed past the ring of her sphincter. He leaned forward with his hips, sliding into the tightness of her ass, his cock feeling wrapped and squeezed from all sides. He closed his eyes to revel in the sensations, slowly releasing a pent-up breath of exertion.

“Oh… oh…” her gasps were little noises rapidly increasing in pitch, and her hips pushed back as hard as she could as if to get more of him inside her, but his hips were already tight against her ass cheeks. He felt her body tense beneath him, her gasps turning to whimpers, and her ass clenched tightly around him as her whole body shuddered beneath his. She moaned deeply with the pleasure of her orgasm, pushing her hips back against him even as she came.

Steven had been skeptical, but there was no way someone could fake the involuntary muscle clenches that her orgasm had brought about. Though it was hard to believe, she’d climaxed simply from him fully penetrating her ass… her virgin ass for that matter… just as she’d said she would.

As the mirror had told her to, he reminded himself with a shake of the head. She was clearly crazy… which was a great shame because she was as hot as fuck.

Slowly, Steven began to rock his hips against her, withdrawing a little then pushing back in. Each time, Red moaned deeply, and her hips writhed beneath him with pleasure. He couldn’t help but feel envious; whatever else, he’d lost count of the number of orgasms Red had had, and each one had evidently been massive. But it was his turn to take his pleasure now, and as he lay full-length over her, his hands gripped her upper arms for leverage.

Steven began to fuck her ass in earnest, driving his cock into her. In his experience, anal required a gentle, cautious start – but none of his previous lovers had orgasmed in the first three seconds. Fuck it, he thought, and fuck her too – and he drove into her with all the strength he had.

Red cried out with each thrust beneath him, her hips bucking with the strength of his attack, but whether it hurt her or not, she pushed back wantonly against him, just as she’d promised she would. Her cries turned to sobs the more he fucked her, then her sobs turned to whimpers. But she felt so good beneath him, so silken and tight around him, that he didn’t want to stop. Couldn’t stop.

His breath became ragged as he felt the pressure build in his balls, and his hips slapped noisily into her ass with each thrust forward. With a cry Steven released his control, and jets of hot sperm shot into her waiting, welcoming ass. Red immediately cried out in echo, and her body shuddered beneath him as her own orgasm reached its peak. Her ass tightened around him, milking him, and he collapsed over her, his hips pressed hard against hers.

For a long moment they simply lay there, waiting for their hearts to stop racing and their breathing to calm.

“Thank you,” Red whispered, and Steven wasn’t entirely sure whether she was speaking to him or the mirror.

He slid off her, slipping from her, and walked to the bathroom. It would do her no harm to be left tied up for a while.

Steven ran a lukewarm shower and stepped beneath it, reflecting on the intensity of the evening he’d experienced. Red was, without a doubt, the most incredible of girls. It was regretful, really, that she was just a little bit too crazy to consider as relationship material. His father would be disappointed but not, Stephen admitted with a sigh, as disappointed as Stephen was himself. He hadn’t expected to fall for her – it was just sex, after all – but something about her vulnerability, her innocence, and, in no small part, her voracious sexual appetite, made her incredibly desirable.

Yet it wasn’t realistic, and he knew that. He would bid her a fond farewell, and perhaps look forward to her next visit to this area. New York was a long way away, but from time to time he made it over there too. There were future possibilities. And who knew? Perhaps they could stay friends. Friends with benefits.

He smiled to himself. The benefits were certainly very nice.

Steven walked out of the bathroom, still damp from his shower. Red was a picture, lying on the bed. Her head rested on her arm, her hair was matted with sweat. Her body had the freshly-fucked look that Steven found quite attractive, and his cum was leaking from her ass, trickling down to her aroused, swollen pussy.

It was too good an opportunity to miss, and he took a small detour to collect his phone from his jacket.

“Red,” he said as he walked back in, and she opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him.

He pressed the photo button on his phone, and it delivered a most satisfying click.

“I know you don’t remember meeting Alfie,” he said, “I’d hate for you to forget this too. Now I have a memoir I can send you if you need it.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said testily, only now testing the bonds on her wrists and glaring at him, “because the evening has been pretty forgettable so far.”

He chuckled as he examined the picture on his phone. Yes, he could see both her face and her recently-fucked ass. He made sure it was safely uploaded to the cloud, and then wondered if it was too early to untie her.

The flight back to New York had been smooth enough; first class helped, though Red did hate waiting with the general population. Daddy was using the plane though, so it was either fly commercial or stay another week in the hotel.

Red’s mind flitted back to the hotel room. To Steven, more specifically. She still couldn’t quite believe what she’d done, what the mirror had made her do. But she couldn’t deny she’d enjoyed it. It had been probably the most fulfilling sexual experience of her life, and she pushed her thighs together as she remembered it.

Their goodbye had been a little awkward; he’d almost spent the night before deciding, in the end, to leave. She’d been relieved, though she’d immediately missed him too. She’d felt so vulnerable afterwards that she’d sat in the bottom of the shower and cried, hugging her knees to her chest. At least down there, she was out of sight of the mirror.

The mirror… was a problem. And yet, everything she’d done – everything it had made her do – had been an amazing, life-changing experience. Embarrassing, shameful, degrading, yes – but amazing, nevertheless. The mirror had made her into… what had Steven called her?... a nympho and a slut. What scared her was that it was her reflection, and perhaps the mirror was simply reflecting who she really was.

But she’d enjoyed every minute of it, hadn’t she? She’d certainly come enough times, and with orgasms better than she could ever remember having… prior.

She caught a cab back to her apartment and the concierge helped her with her bags. She hadn’t kept the black dress in the end. Or the crotchless panties. She’d briefly considered keeping the latter for the memories, but they weren’t in a great state by the time Steven had finished with her.

Her apartment was as she’d left it – large, tastefully decorated, opulent, safe… save for the large mirror above her mantel, visible as soon as she entered. She glanced at her reflection as she entered, and it showed only a slightly anxious, slightly more experienced girl looking back. Red tipped the concierge and closed the door behind him, sliding the locks in place.

She pulled off her travelling clothes, leaving them where they fell, and headed to the shower. Afterwards, she slipped naked into her bed, enjoying the feel of crisp, clean sheets against her skin. She usually slept in a camisole and panties, but she was too tired to bother. Besides, it was nice to sleep nude. Perhaps that would be her preference from now on.

Sleep came quickly.

Red was awakened by the dual-toned chime of her doorbell and sat up with a start. She wasn’t expecting visitors, was she? A quick glance showed it was later that same afternoon, and she was sure she had nothing in her calendar for the remainder of the day. But she hadn’t intended to sleep for long anyway, so it was a convenient excuse to rouse herself.

She slipped her silk kimono over her nudity and padded through the apartment to her door just as the bell rang again.

“I’m coming,” she muttered.

She flicked back the locks, one by one, a small frown creasing her brow. Not just anyone could gain entrance to this building – they had to get past the front desk below, and it was manned 24/7. Perhaps it was just the concierge, delivering a package.

Red opened her door a little, not wishing to show more than she needed while wearing only a thin robe and nothing else.

A striking woman stood on her threshold. She was quite a lot older than Red, perhaps in her early 40s, with a face that hinted at a few extra lines but a very good skin-care regime. She was dressed smartly enough in a professional-looking suit, though the clothes weren’t expensive.

Red opened the door a little wider. “Yes?”

The woman smiled slowly, as if enjoying something. “Don’t you recognize me, Red?”

Red blinked twice, then her hand flew to her mouth in surprise. It was the woman from the house. The estate agent. It took her a moment to remember the name. “Anne! What are you doing here?”

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

Chapter 3 – A Visit

“Anne! What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d drop in and see how you’re doing.”

“Oh, well,” Red furrowed her brow in puzzlement, wondering how Anne had discovered where she lived. Surely her address hadn’t been in Anne’s files. “Er… this isn’t a great time. I’ve just…”

“Do invite me in, Red.”

“Won’t you please come in?” Red blinked as the words left her mouth. But then, it was only polite, wasn’t it?

“Thank you.” Anne smiled. Red opened the door fully, revealing herself in the process. “Oh, what a lovely kimono,” Anne commented as she entered. “Very short and suggestive. It suits you.”

Red closed the door behind Anne, her mind still puzzled as to why Anne was here. Red valued her privacy and had so few visitors… in fact, now that she thought about it, Anne was quite possibly the first she’d had, if she didn’t count her father.

Red considered her expansive apartment, trying to envision it from Anne's perspective, as if seeing it for the first time. To Anne’s right, there sat a collection of plush black leather sofas and chairs emanating comfort and luxury, sharing an open-plan space with the spacious kitchen that lay directly ahead. The kitchen had come furnished with modern conveniences yet was noticeably absent of the usual clutter of cooking utensils and spices one might expect. Red had never needed to learn how to cook, rendering the space largely unused in that regard.

To Anne's left, situated on the far side of the room and partially concealed by the protruding bathroom wall, was the bedroom. A wall acted as a divider between the kitchen and bedroom, creating two separate areas within the apartment; the entrance to the bedroom was an open arch, too sizable to be deemed a mere doorway. A section of the bed was visible, giving an impression of its considerable size and offering a glimpse into its unmade state, suggesting that Red had recently occupied it. She couldn’t help but cringe at the trail of garments scattered across the floor, discarded as she’d removed them only two or three hours earlier.

A deep-pile cream carpet extended throughout the apartment, harmoniously blending with the cream walls that ascended to high ceilings, with light sconces spread evenly throughout. Above the bed hung a small chandelier, adding a further elegant touch.

Anne took a few steps forward, scanning her surroundings before turning to Red. "It's very spacious," she remarked, her appreciation evident. Red nodded her agreement, her brow still furrowed at Anne’s unexpected arrival. Yes, the apartment was large – but then what would one expect at an address such as this?

Red noticed that her silk robe had slipped within the sash, exposing more cleavage than intended—a familiar situation given the smoothness of the material. Out of habit her fingers dropped reflexively to adjust it; she was completely nude beneath and had no wish to flash her guest, or indeed inadvertently offend.

“Oh, don’t do that on my account.” Anne interjected firmly, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. “I was enjoying the view.”

A flush spread across Red's cheeks in response to the older woman's comment. She was aware that her fair complexion accentuated the contrast when she blushed, and it always made her feel self-conscious. She hardly noticed that her fingers had stopped short of her sash. More disconcerting was the inexplicable hardening of her nipples, their prominence pressing against the silk fabric of her robe. It seemed as though her body had reacted to Anne's casual appraisal or, perhaps, the tone of her voice.

Red was flustered that her nipples now protruded against her kimono, the material so delicate that Anne was sure to notice. What ever would she think? Red had never been attracted to women, making her physical response all the more surprising; yet there was something different about Anne… she seemed somehow more sensual, more confident than Red remembered. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed when they’d originally met, a mere day ago. Could someone change so much in such a short span of time?

It was difficult to reconcile the fact that so little time had passed since their original encounter, considering the distances involved. They had met on the other side of the country only yesterday, and now, surprisingly, Anne was here. Obviously, it was no coincidence, and just as clear was the realization that Anne was no simple estate agent.

Red was about to ask for an explanation when Anne spoke again. “It’s such a lovely kimono. Perhaps you could model it for me. Walk over here for me.” Anne gestured gracefully, indicating a path across the plush carpet.

Red was already moving before Anne had quite finished speaking, which was slightly disconcerting; why had she obeyed so readily? But then, Anne had asked in a gracious manner, and the request itself was undeniably flattering. In response, Red added a subtle sway to her hips: it seemed to harmonize with Anne's intent.

There was a brief silence as Anne observed Red’s slow and deliberate walk through her apartment, modelling as bid. Red tried to imagine what Anne was seeing: the kimono, clinging to Red’s slim figure, the delicate fabric not concealing the shape of her firm breasts; her hardened nipples pushing embarrassingly against the silk, evidence of the arousal she was inexplicably feeling; the robe draping over her ass, barely covering it yet revealing its contours; her long legs, showcased to perfection by the robe’s brevity; and her bare feet, which perhaps contributed to an overall sense of vulnerability in her portrayal. Why did the thought of vulnerability come to mind? She didn’t feel vulnerable… did she?

“It’s not quite as short as the dress you wore for Steven, but it’s not far off,” Anne noted as she watched. “I imagine you couldn’t bend very far without hinting at that delicious bottom of yours.”

Anne's comment caught Red off guard, causing her steps to falter and her confidence to waver. The weight of Anne's words settled upon her, leaving Red with a whirlwind of thoughts to process. How was Anne aware of the dress she wore for Steven? Had she been present at the restaurant that night? If so, what had she witnessed? For that matter, how had she known Steven’s name? And the mention of her bottom...! It was an unexpected and audacious remark that left Red momentarily speechless, her mind racing to comprehend the implications of Anne's knowledge and bold commentary.

“Would you like to show me?” Anne inquired, a playful smile on her lips.

“Excuse me?” Red's voice wavered with a mix of confusion and indignation; she was quite discombobulated, feeling as though she had been struggling to catch up with Anne ever since her arrival.

“Turn around and bend for me, dear. I would love to see what happens when you do.”

Phrased like that it seemed a most reasonable request, and Red turned gracefully, presenting her bottom for Anne’s inspection. She modestly leaned forward, feeling the hem of her silk robe rise marginally as she did.

“Oh, wonderfully tantalizing, but it is just a smidge too long. A little more, please.”

Red complied, reaching for the dividing wall for support while maintaining the straightness of her legs. She bent further, her sash slipping another inch as her breasts pushed more firmly against the silk. At some level, Red questioned why she had so readily followed Anne's suggestion; she was little more than a stranger, they hardly knew one another, and now she was obeying mere moments after her arrival. But surely that was a churlish thought: Anne had been nothing but polite and inquisitive.

“Mmm, perfect,” Anne purred, “A delectable hint of curve. Stay like that for me.”

Red's mind filled with consternation as she contemplated whether she had bent enough to inadvertently expose her bare vulva to Anne. Yet if the curve of her lower bottom was visible, so too would be the gap at the top of her thighs. She silently hoped that Anne wouldn't take offense.

Red held her position as had been requested of her, wanting very much to instead stand up and adjust her kimono, but for some inexplicable reason, she did not. Perhaps it was simply that to do so would be rude, when Anne had simply done little more than request that Red model for her, or perhaps it was that events had happened so swiftly, Red found herself unable to object. But whatever the reason, she held still, bent over, her bottom pushed back toward the older woman and her kimono offering little cover.

It was quite a surprise when Anne’s fingers glided over Red’s lower bottom, just beneath the hem of her robe. The thick carpet had clearly muffled Anne's approach, and the overly intimate caress caused Red to startle and release a small gasp. Again she wished to stand, and again some force kept her where she was. Was she merely reluctant to disobey? Her compliance was confusing, and her brow furrowed even as Anne trailed a delicate path from one firm cheek to the other. Nervously, Red chewed on her lower lip, her mind running wild with thoughts. Did Anne prefer girls? It seemed likely. That wouldn’t have bothered Red at all, were it not for the compromising position in which she found herself.

Red did not consider herself attracted to the same sex, beyond aesthetic appreciations – she recognised the female form was undeniably beautiful – but apart from a drunken kiss or two at parties long forgotten, she had never found herself drawn to other women. Yet despite this, Anne seemed to purport herself with a confidence and dignity that Red did find appealing, and at some level she wanted to be found pleasing by the older woman. So it was that she found her stomach clench with nervousness and but with other sensations too, and her cheeks began to heat as she blushed.

“There is nothing more beautiful than the feminine form,” Anne murmured quietly, her fingers lazily brushing across to the curve of Red’s other cheek. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Anne's gentle strokes and caresses stirred the growing arousal within Red, making her response of "Yes" slightly rushed and breathy, betraying her heightened state.

“Arch your back and push your bottom out, please,” Anne said, and Red knew it was a command and not a request.

Her body was already obeying, her ass pushing back against Anne’s hand, the hem of her kimono rising even higher. Red knew the position Anne had instructed her to adopt was lewd in its presentation, and a whimper of humiliation slipped from her lips.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” Anne’s fingers lingered, tracing across Red’s smooth skin, her touch brushing across Red’s ass then lightly along the exposed, offered folds of her sex.

Red chewed nervously on her lip, feeling her skin flush in embarrassment at the combination of her exposure, the intimacy of the touch, and the audacious of Anne’s question. How could she possibly answer? Why was she even in such a position?

“Answer me.” Anne murmured, quietly insistent.

“Yes… yes, I like it.” Red admitted, a mixture of nervousness and arousal evident in her voice, Anne’s firm tone compelling her to respond.

“Why? Tell me.”

“It… excites me… and makes me feel vulnerable.” Why had she admitted to that?

As Red said ‘vulnerable’, Anne’s fingers stilled for a fleeting moment on Red’s skin, so brief she might have imagined it, before continuing their lingering caress.

“Well, I do enjoy you presented like this. You have such a delicious little bottom.” Anne gave one cheek a couple of pats. “However, we’ve much to do. Turn around, let me look at you.”

A mix of relief and a natural inclination to obey surged within Red as she gratefully seized the opportunity to straighten up. It felt almost instinctive to comply—to want to comply. She turned, presenting herself to Anne, ensuring her posture remained impeccable with a straight spine, relaxed shoulders, and chin held high. For some inexplicable reason, it felt crucial that Anne found her pleasing.

Anne took a small step closer, encroaching upon Red's personal space. Though their heights were comparable, the difference between them was obvious. Red, barefoot and clad only in her ever-slipping kimono, stood in contrast to Anne's formal suit and elevated stature granted by her heels. Both elements served to emphasize the control Anne had wielded since Red had opened the door, amplifying the inexplicable sense of vulnerability that still permeated Red's being.

Was she afraid of Anne? Or was it simply the sudden desire to please that made her feel vulnerable? She wasn’t even sure why she wanted to please Anne; Anne wasn't typically the type of person Red went out of her way to impress. She was aware of the strength of Anne’s personality, the quiet power behind even the simplest of her uttered commands. Red couldn't deny that she had willingly and diligently fulfilled every request since Anne's arrival, giving her utmost effort to comply – she just wasn’t sure why.

“Such a pretty little thing you are,” Anne murmured, as one hand came up to cup Red’s cheek while the ball of her thumb rubbed across Red’s lips. It was a possessive gesture, and Red’s lips parted submissively upon Anne’s touch. Anne smiled, clearly relishing Red’s response, and with a hint of dominance she guided the tip of her thumb between Red's slightly opened lips, venturing into her mouth. Red closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation as her tongue tentatively flicked against Anne's probing digit, an unconscious response driven by her sudden arousal.

It was as if she couldn't resist.

Red knew she was responding, her desire fueling the natural parting of her lips—an implicit permission that Anne had taken advantage of – but conscious or not, Red could no more control her response than she could refuse Anne’s wishes. The sudden, overwhelming sense of submission she felt caused a shiver to run down her spine, even as Anne’s thumb ventured further, the intrusion eliciting a mix of pleasure and surrender within Red's mouth.

The recognition of her submission served to reinforce their dynamic, further shifting the balance of power in Anne's favor. Remarkably, in the mere moments since Anne's arrival, Red had willingly modelled, presented herself in the most revealing of positions, held that position unresistingly while Anne intimately caressed her, verbalized her arousal and vulnerability, succumbed to Anne's penetration of her mouth, and was now licking submissively in response. Emotions swirled within Red's mind, creating a whirlwind of conflicting feelings, but one thing was clear: she no longer had any control. Complete dominance was now Anne’s, asserting itself from the very moment she had stepped into Red's apartment.

“Gosh, I’m ever so fond of this kimono,” Anne murmured, slipping her hand from Red’s face and lightly trailing her fingers down… over her chin, her neck, her throat. The robe had parted such that it was open almost to Red’s navel, and Anne’s light touch served to emphasize how much skin Red was showing. Glancing down, to her embarrassment Red could glimpse the curves of the sides of both breasts, her erect nipples barely covered. Anne’s fingers traced a path between Red’s breasts, yet she refrained from allowing her thumb, moistened with Red’s own saliva, to make contact. The movement of her hand mesmerized Red, and she could only watch as it slipped slightly to the side, beneath the silk, Anne’s wet thumb depositing Red’s saliva over one stiff nipple.

A small whimper escaped at the touch, but still Red was unable – or unwilling – to resist, her breath catching in her throat as Anne gently toyed with her.

“You will enjoy doing as I say, won’t you?” Anne said, though it was as much a statement as a question, her thumb flicking idly back and forth over Red’s nipple, sending tremors of sensation through her body. Red’s saliva made the contact ever so slightly silkier, which, in Red’s mind, added immeasurably to the sensuality.

Red nodded jerkily, fully aroused by the older woman’s simple touch. “Yes… yes, I will,” and it wasn’t just a reply; it sounded like a promise. ‘I will’? What am I saying! Red thought. Why had Anne made her so flustered? What had gotten into her? It was so hard to think clearly through the fog of her own arousal.

“So tell me, Red, have you enjoyed your reflection of late?” The ball of her thumb rubbed slight circles around Red’s stiff nipple, and such was the distraction that it took Red a moment to register Anne’s comment.

And then it was obvious that Anne knew everything, even though Red could not fathom how. Anne was intricately connected and involved, though how or why Red could not begin to see. While these revelations should have given Red pause, prompting her to question and hesitate, she found herself already forming a response. It was so perplexing how she was unable to hold back!

“Yes... but the mirror has made me do so much," Red admitted, and even to herself the words sounded like a protest. Yet too, they carried the weight of understanding, an acknowledgement of how the mirror had influenced her actions and choices – even if she still couldn’t quite believe it. It was an admission of the transformative power the mirror held, the way it had guided her decisions and shaped her experiences.

“Have you enjoyed it?”

Red felt herself blush and looked down in shame and humiliation.

“Answer me,” Anne insisted.

And when Anne used that tone, Red knew she couldn’t help but respond. Her reply was a bare whisper, “Yes, I have.”

"The mirror shows only what is already inside you, is that not true?" Anne's words hung in the air, the very question Red had asked herself so many times.

Red desperately hoped it wasn't true. After all, hadn't the mirror revealed things to her that had not yet come to pass? And yet, as time unfolded, those visions, too, had become reality.

“Yes... I... I suppose so." Red's response was reluctant, for while she could not deny that part of her had wanted to do all the things that had happened, hadn’t the mirror controlled her, somehow?

Perhaps what Anne had said was true, perhaps the mirror did only show true reflections, and its magic was to show the future, too. The thought was both unsettling and fascinating; she thought she might have been compelled, even hoped she had been compelled, because at least then she need not blame herself for what had happened. But if she hadn’t been compelled, perhaps she’d merely been guided, and that meant the decisions she’d made – the things she’d done – were entirely of her own choosing. The ambiguity of it all filled her with a sense of unease, intermingled with an undercurrent of shame.

Red had come to terms with the fact that the mirror was magic in some way – as impossible as that sounded. At first, she’d thought she was going mad, but the influence of the mirror had been so strong it proved to her that it was more than merely what Red saw within. Hadn’t the mirror made her orgasm, from only the slightest of touches? Hadn’t it physically affected her in ways that Red couldn’t have done herself? When she’d felt that overwhelming desire to taste all of Steven’s body, and come when she did so… or when Steven took her ass, as another example… would she have climaxed as she had – when she had – if the mirror hadn’t somehow influenced her?

Yet, Anne's assertion remained undeniably true, regardless of any resistance Red might have had. Perhaps every action Red had taken, driven by the mirror's influence, had actually aligned with her own desires. It was impossible to ascertain the truth, and that uncertainty, above all else, made her doubt herself.

"Do you like who you are becoming?" Anne's question jolted Red out of her contemplation, snapping her back to the present.

As she looked up, fear flickered in Red’s eyes. "It... scares me. It's an overwhelming experience."

Anne’s hand slid fully beneath the kimono, cupping and squeezing Red’s breast, and Red couldn’t help the little gasp it stimulated. Anne smiled as she heard it; it seemed to please her. "Intense, yes... but do you like it?" Anne pressed further, seeking a direct response.

Red contemplated the sexual awakenings she had undergone, that the mirror had introduced her to – whether or not it had directly compelled her or simply given her a push. She shivered at the possibility that it was the latter, cringing with another wave of shame at the thought of what she had willingly done. Yet she could only admit that she had found enjoyment in each of those encounters. Shame, yes, degradation too… but so much pleasure. It was a truth she couldn't deny: she had liked it.

The orgasms alone had been more intense, more fulfilling, than any she had ever previously experienced. Even in that moment, as Anne’s fingers flicked over her nipple, her awakening continued, for never before had she been with a woman, or even thought she was attracted to women, yet she could not deny how aroused she was.

But it was embarrassing to discuss such things with Anne, who was still a near-stranger – despite the hand that was gently squeezing Red’s breast – so she stayed quiet, unable to find her voice.

Anne didn’t seem pleased at her lack of response, and her fingers moved to pull and twist Red’s nipple. “Answer me,” Anne demanded.

“Yes, I like it,” Red gasped even as Anne tweaked her nipple, and she blushed deeply at her own admission, unable to meet Anne’s eyes, and worse, fearing from Anne’s tone that maybe she had displeased. Yet Anne’s smile had returned when she’d heard Red’s response, and her hand had gone back to gently cupping and squeezing Red’s breast.

“Please… may I ask a question?” Red didn’t know why she’d asked so submissively, it had just seemed appropriate.

“Of course you can, my dear.” Anne’s fingers continued to play with Red’s breast, as though it was the most entertaining toy.

“How do you know about the mirrors?” Red chewed nervously on her lower lip, trying to resist the building feelings that Anne’s hand was causing, while worried that it was not her place to ask such questions.

But Anne didn’t seem upset, for she merely smiled and ran Red’s nipple through her fingers. “The answer to that is complicated, dear girl. Let me simply say that I am the mirror’s… caretaker.”

Red’s brow furrowed; Anne seemed to be referring to a single mirror, but Red’s reflection had influenced her from a diversity of mirrors. Then with a jolt she remembered the mirror she’d seen in the house Anne had shown her: ornate, ancient-looking, ill-suited to that house, and with the horrible face at its apex. How could she have forgotten? Unless that too was part of the mirror’s magic.

“The mirror you showed me in the house. With the leering face.”

Anne smiled. “Yes. I am surprised you remember it. But you’ve always been particularly sensitive.”

Red didn’t know what Anne meant by being ‘sensitive’, but other questions seemed more important. “Is the mirror yours?”

“After a fashion,” Anne replied whimsically, holding her hand slightly away until only Red’s nipple brushed her palm.

“Can… can the mirror make me do things?” Red asked desperately, pushing her breast more firmly into Anne’s touch.

Anne smiled, “Make you do things?” Her hand closed again on Red’s breast, squeezing firmly. “How would it do that? As I said earlier… it reflects only what is within you.”

Red felt another wash of shame and embarrassment as Anne confirmed her fears: the mirror hadn’t compelled her, she’d retained her free will, her freedom of choice, and what she’d done was entirely on her.

Yet at some level Red still struggled to reconcile this. Hadn’t she felt her body be moved by the mirror? Her head, forced to nod in the changing room, for example. Or was that her imagination, her wishful thinking, her defense for the degrading acts she’d willingly committed? Oh, it was so confusing, and still Anne’s hand caressed her breast. How could she think clearly when Anne stoked her arousal so? But there was one more thought she’d had, one more question she needed to ask.

“Can you make me do things, Anne?”

Anne’s smile widened. “What do you think, dear girl?” she asked, even as her fingertip flicked over Red’s aching nipple.

Red thought about it, considering what had happened since Anne had entered her apartment, such a short while before. To be sure, Red had been ever so quick to obey, almost as if she were being compelled – although it didn’t feel like it. Perhaps she’d responded in ways that were a little out of character, but then Red now recognised that Anne was a very special woman. True, Red had fulfilled all of Anne's requests, but she found solace in the fact that Anne's appeals had been reasonable, courteous, and even polite. In fact, Red had to admit to herself that she had genuinely wanted to comply with the things Anne had asked of her.

“No… I suppose that would be too far-fetched… and, besides, there’s no mirror here.” It was as if she spoke to herself as she voiced her thoughts.

Anne’s smile remained. “How true, dear, how true, and how clever of you to realize it so.”

Red felt a warmth suffuse her at Anne’s admiration, and she smiled gratefully at the older woman.

A knock at the door startled Red, but Anne was apparently unsurprised.

“Ah!” she slipped her hand from inside Red’s robe as she turned toward the door, “The first of our deliveries is here. Be a good girl and go and see who that is.”

Red obediently made her way towards the door, her hands instinctively reaching for the sash at her waist, but Anne’s voice came from behind. “There’s no need to adjust your kimono, dear.”

No doubt Anne was correct; she certainly sounded sure. No doubt Red looked respectable enough as she was, but she couldn’t help think that her robe was now so open that her breasts were almost fully on display, her nipples barely covered – and that is if she was faced directly. From any side angle, anyone would certainly be able to glimpse her tight, pink nipples. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, the two sides of her kimono now barely overlapped beneath the sash, which meant that any movement at all risked flashing her perfectly smooth pussy to any interested party.

She chewed her lower lip nervously as she approached the door.

On balance, she’d have much preferred to rearrange her kimono, but if Anne felt it was unnecessary, perhaps Red was merely being prudish.

She opened her door with reluctance, while keeping herself as much behind it as she possibly could.

“Morning, Ma’am,” a man dressed in a UPS uniform stood in her doorway, holding a large box in a way that suggested it was quite heavy. “Delivery for Miss Sinclair?”

“Um… yes,” Red’s brow furrowed. “How did you get past the front desk?”

“Oh, that was me,” Anne clarified helpfully, and Red saw she’d moved near the sofas. “I let your concierge know that you’d have several visitors today.”

Red stared at Anne. Several visitors? With her apartment in the state it was in, clothes strewn about? And… Red herself, dressed like this? Perhaps Anne wouldn’t mind if she went to put on some proper clothes – perhaps immediately after this delivery.

The UPS man cleared his throat. “Sorry, miss, but this box is quite heavy. Could I…?”

"Let him in, Red," Anne's commanding tone left no room for any refusal, prompting Red to step back and fully open the door as instructed.

The man's reaction was quite well controlled, for his eyes betrayed only a slight widening before swiftly glancing over Red's figure. His gaze lingered, seemingly caressing her from head to toe, observing the blush on her face, the bareness of her toes twisting uneasily against the carpet, and every detail between.

"Pop it down over here, would you?" Anne gestured towards a spot beside the coffee table, positioned in front of the sofas.

"Of course, ma'am," the man responded obligingly, drawing his eyes from Red with obvious reluctance. He carried the package through Red's apartment, providing momentary relief as his back turned towards Red, putting an end to his ogling. Red's fingers twitched with the desire to readjust her kimono, but Anne had been quite clear that she should leave it as it was. Perhaps she could at least position herself by the door and avoid drawing too much attention to herself. Surely the man would soon depart.

He carefully lowered the box to the carpet beside Red's coffee table, letting out a relieved sigh as he straightened up, a hand easing the small of his back.

"Perfect. And I wonder if I could impose on your kindness, young man," Anne smiled.

"Ma'am?"

"Well, it's such a hassle to unwrap a package as heavy as this, and someone as strong as you would do it so much more easily than either of us ladies."

He hesitated, "Well... we're not really allowed..."

"Oh, but wouldn't you, just this once?"

After a moment's contemplation, he shrugged. "No problem, ma'am. But..." he reached for his mobile pad, drawing it from his belt, "...you will have to sign for it first."

"Red will take care of that," Anne replied, casting a glance towards the door. The UPS man turned to look as well. "Red?"

Red swallowed nervously. There was no way she’d be able to walk to the sofas without giving the man quite a show, but there was no other option. Chin up, shoulders back, and small movements, she decided; yes, perhaps that would help keep her robe from flapping too much and offering teasing glimpses of her vulva with every step.

The man watched her intently as she approached, his eyes roaming over her. Even Anne was enjoying the view, a small smile on her lips. Red fought the urge to shiver beneath their gazes and tried to maintain her composure.

She edged around the corner of the sofa and approached the man directly, trying to keep as square on as possible so as to avoid affording him glimpses of her nipples. Nipples which, she was well aware, were hard, pointy nubs, jutting obscenely against the thin silk that barely covered them, making it clear to anyone who saw them just how aroused Red was, and had been since shortly after Anne’s arrival.

The UPS man proffered his device towards Red. “Please sign on the screen, miss.”

She raised a hand to do so, trying not to think how that might make her kimono gape further – or worse, rise at the bottom, where there was already an opening in the fabric that aligned with the top of her thighs – and concentrated on writing her name even as the man’s eyes seemed to roam over her.

“That’s a lovely kimono,” he murmured, his voice slightly husky, then seemed to collect himself and added a belated, “…if you don’t mind me saying so, miss.”

Anne stepped slightly forward. “Isn’t it though?” She smiled at the young man, then fixed her eyes on Red. “Perhaps you could display it properly for us both. Raise your arms up and give us a twirl, Red.”

Red looked at her in shock. “A twirl?” but even as she voiced a protest her body was obeying, her arms extending gracefully like a ballerina, her body turning, her weight perfectly balanced over one straight leg. Raising her arms had caused the robe to rise several inches; as it rose, she felt it brush against her ass much as it had when she had bent for Anne, and that could only mean she was also bearing her naked, perfectly smooth vulva and the glistening shine at the apex of her thighs that she had tried, and failed, to hide in the shadow of her kimono.

She completed her turn, facing them again, a deep blush tingeing her cheeks. The UPS man was staring with wide eyes at the hem of her robe, and Red lowered her arms quickly – perhaps too quickly, for she felt the sash slip another inch – much more and she may as well be fully nude. She couldn’t help but glance down to check the damage her twirl had done, and her blush deepened. Now it was obvious that there was a hint of pink nipple on each side of her gaping robe, her areola peeking out, even when she was facing straight; she had likely widened the gap at the bottom, too, and couldn’t help but wonder if the kimono now offered her any modesty at all. There was no doubt in her mind that her little display had given both the UPS man and Anne ample chance to see her bare breasts, the bottom curve of her ass, and more likely than not a glimpse of her sex. She lowered her eyes in mortification, unable to meet their gazes.

“Lovely!” Anne remarked, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would indeed,” the young man’s voice seemed strained, and since Red had so shamefully exposed herself to him like this, at least she could take sadistic pleasure in his blue-balled discomfort.

“And such a beautiful material, too,” Anne added, a wicked smile curling her lips. “Would you like to touch it?”

Both Red and the man glanced at Anne in surprise, Red’s expression one of utmost consternation, while his showed unguarded lust. He swallowed obviously, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Er… if the Miss wouldn’t mind…” he said, returning his hungry gaze to Red. She could only stare at him, still stunned that Anne would suggest such a thing.

“Oh, I’m quite sure she wouldn’t mind,” Anne murmured. She fixed Red with a look. “Would you like him to touch you? Yes or no, answer honestly.”

Red looked between them, seeing Anne’s appraising stare and the man’s lustful gaze. She wanted to pull the kimono closed and run off into her bedroom. But no… that wasn’t quite true, was it? She was aroused – she had been for so long – and their eyes on them as she’d turned had done nothing to lessen it. She knew she was wet; she was wet enough to feel it every time she squeezed her thighs together or even just took a step. How would it feel for him to touch her? She knew it would feel pleasurable. She tried to tell herself that he was a stranger, a man she’d barely met, but did that really matter?

Anne’s words rang in her ears: Yes or no, answer honestly. But if she was honest with herself… there were so many reasons to say yes. Were there really any reasons to say no?

“Yes,” she whispered.

Anne’s lips curled up in a smirk. “Hands behind your back, then, and keep still.”

Red felt her cheeks heat at this added humiliation, but already her hands had slipped behind her, clasping tightly together, and the movement had caused her breasts to lift and push forward, as if in offering.

The UPS man tentatively raised one hand, as though he expected to be immediately prevented, then laughed at, the butt of some private joke, but neither woman said anything. Almost reverently, as though he didn’t quite believe what was happening, he reached forward and brushed his fingers across Red’s silken kimono, over her flank, just above the sash. Her breath caught, and she chewed her lip.

Emboldened by his small success, the man ran his hand up the lapel of Red’s robe, slipping his fingers inside, ostensibly to rub the material between fingers and thumb. But the action brushed the back of his fingers up across Red’s breast, his knuckles grazing her nipple. She gasped softly at the touch, even as the man pulled the material away from Red’s chest, baring her breast on that side, and for a long moment the man simply stared at her, the touch of the silk forgotten.

“There’s some very fine thread work in the hem,” Anne suggested.

He dropped his hand immediately, taking the bottom of the kimono in his fingers, but it was as if Anne’s comment had given him permission, and that was all he’d needed.

His fingers dipped below the material and brushed up between Red’s legs, and Red gasped again as she felt his light touch slip up over her smooth vulva.

“Silky, isn’t it?” Anne murmured.

“God, yes,” moaned the man, and his finger pressed between Red’s labia, instantly slick in her wetness, and slid up to flick over her swollen clit.

She moaned, her back arching slightly; she wanted to move more, but Anne had told her to keep still. Instead, she closed her eyes, focusing on the touch of that single fingertip as her breathing came in short, sharp gasps.

“Well, that’s probably enough,” Anne decided, and immediately the man’s hand fell away from Red’s body. She rocked forward slightly, taking a moment to regain control of her balance, and her legs felt unsteady.

The man rubbed his fingers and thumb together, and Red knew he was feeling her arousal on his skin. He gazed at her, the kimono now so open that he could see what he wished.

Then, in a move that surprised Red, he reached for her again, taking the sides of the kimono and pulling them further around her, covering her. He tugged on the sash, tightening it. It had hardly made much difference, Red saw, but it had, at least, made some. She was now only as revealed as she had been before her twirl – still showing considerable amounts of skin – but the gesture from the man was unexpectedly kind and sweet. She smiled at him gratefully.

“Yes, yes. Very nice. The package if you will, please.” Anne reminded him, and the man started slightly, as though he’d been lost in thought as he’d stared at Red.

“Mmm, yes. Of course,” he responded, reaching for a Stanley knife from his tool belt. Red observed him discreetly adjusting his clothing as well, attempting to make himself more at ease. It would have been more subtle and less overt if he hadn’t been quite clearly aroused and standing opposite two women. Anne, however, appeared to find the situation amusing. The man blushed and swiftly turned his attention to the package on the coffee table, effortlessly slicing through the shipping tape. He glanced up at Anne and asked, "The cardboard box as well?"

“Please,” she nodded.

Red stood watching, her hands still behind her back. Anne hadn’t yet said she could move. She squeezed her thighs together, wishing that the man had touched her for longer.

He slid the knife through the box with some well-practiced moves, cutting all four corners and through the top, until the box fell open like the petals of a flower, cascading small pieces of polystyrene packing across Red’s carpet and revealing the elegantly-crafted wooden chest hidden inside.

“Wonderful, thank you,” smiled Anne, and the man nodded as he slipped the blade away. “Red will see you out.”

Her name gave him permission to look at her again, “After you, Miss.”

Red knew she could move again, Anne’s instruction overriding her previous. She turned to lead him to the door, and he walked in step beside her, his eyes roaming over her blatantly, no longer trying to hide the hunger in his gaze.

“Thank you for helping us,” Red said politely as she opened the door, intending it as a dismissal.

“It was my pleasure,” he said, stepping through, “very much my pleasure.”

He was staring at her openly right up until she closed the door.

“Well that was nice of him, wasn’t it?” Anne suggested cheerfully. She tapped her fingertips on the wooden box. “Shall we see what we have here?”

Red retraced her path across the carpet, chewing nervously on her lower lip. “Please Anne, may I get dressed before further visitors come?”

“Oh, don’t bother with that now. We really haven’t the time. Come here, please.”

Red made her way towards Anne, dismayed that her request had been brushed aside so dismissively. She mustered the courage to try again. “Please, may I adjust my kimono?” her request was timid, tentative.

“Didn’t the nice young man just do that for you?”

Red glanced down, seeing how open it still was, her breasts barely covered, and she wasn’t at all sure what could be seen below the sash. “Um… could I please… close it some more?”

Anne fixed her with a stare. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I… I feel exposed,” her voice filled with unease.

“Yes, and?”

Red swallowed nervously; that had hardly been the encouraging response she’d hoped for. “You… you said we were having other visitors.”

Anne nodded, “Yes. And?”

Did Anne require her to spell it out? Red hesitated a moment before finding the words. “Um… they might… see… um… me,” she finished, her voice trailing off weakly.

“Yes. And?”

She still needs more? Red considered. “It makes me feel… uncomfortable.”

“Oh, does it?” Genuine-sounding surprise. “Why?”

“Because… because I’m practically naked,” her voice trembled.

“Not really, dear.”

“Well… um… bits of me are.”

“Yes, well that’s true.” Anne acknowledged, her gaze briefly drifting towards Red’s almost-exposed nipples as if to emphasize the point. “But why does it matter to you?”

With an effort, Red suppressed a sigh. “Because having strange men’s eyes on my nakedness makes me uncomfortable.”

“Does it indeed? Why’s that?” Anne seemed genuinely curious.

“I… I don’t know, it just does.” Red admitted, her confusion and agitation evident as she cast her gaze downward.

“That’s not much of an answer, dear. If that’s the best you have, I think the robe can stay as it is.”

Red glanced up, alarmed. “But… but it makes me feel so objectified!” she blurted out, “As if… as if all they want to do is... is… touch me. Like he did…” she trailed off, her tone bitter as she reflected on the many men of her acquaintance who saw her only as a rich trophy wife. “I don’t want to be revealed like this to strange men. What if I couldn’t stop them touching me?”

Anne smiled slowly, and her eyes held Red’s. “Did you enjoy it when that man touched you?” Red’s eyes widened at the forwardness of her question, but Anne wasn’t finished. “Did you want him to push your kimono off your shoulders and bare your nakedness to his eyes? Did you want to feel his hand on your breast, groping and squeezing it? Did you like his touch between your legs?” She leant forward slightly, her voice lowering, “Did you want more?” Red’s head began to shake in denial, but Anne had one more thing to say: “Answer me honestly.”

“Yes… yes I did!” and she whimpered her own arousal and shame at the admission that Anne had forced from her.

“Well then, dear,” Anne smiled sweetly, leaning back again, smug. “I don’t really see the point of adjusting the kimono, do you? It’s serving its purpose precisely, isn’t it?”

Another knock on the door punctuated Anne’s sentence.

“Ah! What fortuitous and ironic timing!” Anne declared. “Would you get that, please, dear?”

With alarm, Red glanced towards Anne, but her feet were already taking her back to the door. Another stranger into her apartment! And what was in the packages Anne had ordered?

She swallowed nervously as her hand reached once again for the latch, but hesitated and took a deep, steadying breath. If she was going to reveal her near-nakedness to whoever was fortunate enough to be on the other side, at least she could do so with what shreds of dignity she could yet cling to. She lifted her chin, blinked a few times, and took another breath. Then she opened the door.

Her barely found confidence faltered immediately as she came face to face with a group of half a dozen workmen. Each one of them stared at her in surprise, their eyes roaming over her nearly-naked body.

“Well!” the man who had knocked said, a grin slowly developing as he deliberately ran his eyes up and down, “You must be Miss Sinclair.”

“…Yes,” her voice barely above a whisper.

He raised an eyebrow. “We’ve come with the mirrors.” He jerked a finger over his shoulder, and Red saw that several of the men carried large, thin, flat objects, wrapped carefully in bubble wrap and brown paper. He frowned at Red’s evident surprise. “Expecting us, right? Rush job, right?”

“Let them in, please, dear.” Anne’s voice had its usual effect on Red, and she found herself stepping to the side, leaving the door open wide for the men.

The first man stepped into her apartment but paused next to her. One hand came up, faster than Red could react, and his fingers grasped her chin. His touch was firm; she could feel the strength in his fingers, and her breath caught in her throat with surprise.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he grinned at her as he gave her chin a playful little shake.

That he dared to touch her so, to take such liberties with her! Under any normal circumstances, she would have slapped him and reported him, and maybe thrown a tantrum until everyone around her was groveling an apology. But these circumstances were far from normal: she’d invited him into her house; she was scantily dressed, her body on display to him; yet worse than that, she had admitted to Anne and the UPS man just some moments before that she’d wanted to be touched… and he had.

Red didn’t know why she hungered for such things, only that she did; and now this man had grasped her face as though he had every right. Would he do more? Would he go further?

The man was watching her intently, and Red knew that something of her thoughts had played across her face, written in the intensity of her emotions. He had seen it all. But then he simply dropped his hand and Red felt a wave of disappointment at the thought that he’d finished with her. But he hadn’t quite: he leaned in, deliberately, so he could see unimpeded inside Red’s kimono, his eyes running over her exposed breasts as his grin widened.

“Nice robe.”

Anne cleared her throat pointedly from behind Red, her disapproval evident, conveying her dissatisfaction with the man's audacity. It seemed she’d wanted the UPS man to touch Red, but these other men, for some elusive reason, had not yet earned that right.

Undeterred by Anne's reaction, the man confidently entered Red's apartment, followed by the other men who carried their packages with them. Some packages were sizable enough to require the assistance of two men, their efforts clearly visible as they strained to carry them. As they passed by, their gazes lingered on Red, their eyes repeatedly tracing her form. Occasionally, a man would greet her with a flirtatious ‘Miss’ or a suggestive ‘Cutie’, further fueling Red's embarrassment.

Red knew that any one of them could reach out and touch her. She trembled in anticipation, yet not one of them made a move toward her. Disappointed, dejected, and consumed by shame for her own desires, she left the door open and made her way back to the relative safety of Anne’s presence.

The foreman, who had approached Anne, stood and watched Red with a grin bordering on a leer. “My name’s John. You ladies order some mirrors?”

“Indeed,” Anne’s tone seemed to emphasize her cultured accent, as though she was trying to separate herself disdainfully from the workmen who now filled Red’s apartment. “I believe you know where they are to go?”

“Well,” John scratched his stubble covered chin and glanced around the room. “I know about the big one, sure, though that light’ll have to come out.”

“Yes, that’s fine.” Anne confirmed, while Red wondered which light he meant. She was particularly fond of the wall sconces, and hoped the men wouldn’t make too much mess.

“As for the others… symmetrically around the bed, right? Angled as per the diagram we were sent?”

“Essentially, yes.” The man’s cavalier attitude didn’t seem to impress Anne. “Can I trust you to use your professional judgement, or do you require me to provide specific direction?”

“Nah, we’ve got it. We know our shi… business.” He grinned again, and Red couldn’t help think he was actually quite charismatic, despite his rough manner. “We’ll get straight on with it.”

“And the pulley with the hook,” Anne prompted.

John’s eyes flicked towards Red before returning to Anne, as though whatever Anne had meant affected Red somehow. But of course it does, she thought, all of this – whatever ‘this’ is – is Anne’s plans for me. “Yep, the hook and pulley too. Not really our area, but easy enough to do. In the middle somewhere, right? Away from the bed?”

“Precisely that.”

He nodded. “Kinky. Got it. We’ll crack on.”

“Very well,” Anne nodded, and John winked at Red before returning to his men.

The men were efficient, Red saw quickly. Some quickly wrapped her bedroom in dust covers while others went out through the open door, presumably to fetch more equipment. One of the men picked up her discarded bra, a mischievous grin on his face as he briefly glanced in Red’s direction, causing her cheeks to flush with embarrassment. But a curt word from John prompted the man to set it aside and resume his tasks.

Red clearly hadn’t been privy to Anne’s plans, but evidently everything had already been decided. She couldn’t help but be impressed by how efficiently Anne had organized everything, and so swiftly, too. If she wasn’t exposing herself to a room of unfamiliar men, Red would have been curious to observe their work.

“Let’s leave them to it,” Anne suggested as she sat on one of Red’s sofas, her back to the bedroom and the working men. “Why don’t you open your box?”

Red had been curious about the box, but in the midst of the excitement caused by the arrival of the tradesmen, it had slipped her mind. Yes, ‘excitement’ was one way to describe the current situation, Red thought as she released the sturdy latch securing the lid. She couldn't deny that there was an element of excitement to it all, not least of which was the state of her body. The men would occasionally glance in her direction, and she was aware that even from across the apartment they were catching glimpses of her near nudity.

The other men returned, carrying several ladders between them and a couple of hefty-looking toolboxes.

"Red," Anne nudged her, bringing her attention back. She started, realizing she had been staring at the men. "The box, if you will.”

“Yes, Anne.” Red obediently opened the lid, peering inside.

The box had a luxurious velvet lining, showcasing its exquisite craftsmanship. Cut into the lining were carefully proportioned slots to accommodate the contents. While the box itself had a timeless charm, the contents inside had the untouched shine of things that were new. Red glanced quickly through, and it took her a moment to recognize what she was seeing. Then she gasped and looked at Anne in surprise.

“Perhaps you should unpack it. One at a time, if you please.”

Red chewed on her lip as she nervously reached for the first item; it lay across the top of the box, hiding some of the other objects beneath it. She lifted it out carefully, curious. It was quite heavy, well-made, comprising a circular bar an inch or two in diameter, with another one inside, allowing for extension or retraction. Two steel rings adorned the ends while a solid-looking dial occupied the middle.

“Do you know what that is?” Anne asked.

“No…” Red turned it over again and experimented by turning the dial. The bar slowly extended, locking at each point until she turned the dial again.

Her naivety appeared to amuse Anne. “Spreader bar. The rings are for the cuffs you should find next.”

Red blinked in shock and placed the bar carefully down on the coffee table. Why would she need a spreader bar? The cuffs followed, exactly as Anne had said; a larger pair for ankles, a smaller pair for wrists. A matching set in a high-quality and supple leather, lined with sensuously soft suede, complete with rings and locks that would match those on the spreader bar.

“A little noise, ladies,” John’s voice called out across the room, and for a moment Red had all but forgotten they were there. She glanced up. Her room had been swiftly wreathed in dust sheets, the ladders were extended, and two members of John’s team were armed with power tools. They had certainly worked swiftly, but then there were a lot of them. It took them but a few moments to unfasten Red’s beautiful chandelier from over her bed, and a moment longer to carefully detach the wiring.

Red still hadn’t quite worked out what their goal was, but the gaping hole in her ceiling was an eyesore.

“Carry on, Red.” Anne’s voice pulled her attention back.

Red continued to unload the box, placing each item on the coffee table as she did. After the cuffs, Red discovered a large metal butt plug with a red-rose jewel in its tip, an egg vibe with a remote control, a riding crop, a leather-handled flogger with two-dozen long suede strands, a ball gag, several bundles of Shibari jute rope, a bottle of lube – thoughtful – and a bundle of cable ties.

With each new item, Red’s trepidation grew in tandem with Anne’s amusement, until at last the box was empty and the coffee table was full.

“Good.” Anne gestured to the carpet before her feet. “Kneel here, dear.”

Red slipped gracefully to her knees before Anne, her kimono rucking up slightly as she did so.

Anne slipped her feet free of her shoes and placed one bare foot on Red’s lap. “A foot massage would be delightful. Be so kind, dear.”

Red took Anne’s foot in her small hands, pressing her thumbs into her sole as Anne sighed with pleasure. “Which of your presents do you like best?”

Sucking her lower lip between her teeth, Red considered the items on the table. She’d never seen most of them before, and though she owned a vibrator or two, it seemed trite to choose the egg vibe merely on the grounds of familiarity. For a moment she considered picking the lube, but Anne hadn’t shown any signs of having a sense of humor. Her eyes flicked over the butt plug, the gag, the rope… and she remembered how it felt to be tied by Steven, how relaxing she’d found it.

“The rope, I think,” her voice quiet as her hands continued to massage Anne’s foot.

“Ahh yes,” Anne nodded, “there’s a comfort in being restrained, is there not?”

Across the room several electric drills started up in tandem, distracting Red. She was able to see the ceiling of her bedroom over the back of the sofa on which Anne sat, and her eyes widened. Several men were holding an enormous mirror against the ceiling, while the power tools made short work of affixing it.

Red looked up at Anne, her eyes wide. “You’re… putting a mirror over my bed?”

Anne smiled smugly. “It seemed appropriate, don’t you think?” Anne’s other foot pushed gently against Red’s knee, and so distracted was she by the implications of where the mirror was being mounted that her knees parted unthinkingly. It was only as Anne’s toes brushed lightly down her inner thigh that she became aware of what she’d done, and her legs began to close again. “No, no, your knees apart. In fact, a little wider, if you please.”

Red chewed nervously on her lower lip as her knees spread wider as Anne had bid, and she knew that nothing impeded Anne’s view of her core; her robe lay rucked across her lap, with insufficient material for it to fall between her thighs. Red was fully exposed. Her breath caught in her throat; Anne’s toes were inching towards her apex, and it took little imagination to deduce the older woman’s intent.

“Carry on, please,” Anne murmured, reminding Red of her massaging duties. Her thumbs resumed their progress along Anne’s sole, even as Anne’s other foot brushed higher on her thigh, now only a whisper away from Red’s exposed, bare sex.

“Tell me, dear. Are you more aware of the men, or of me?” as she asked the question, Anne gently nudged Red’s folds with her toes, the intimacy of the touch sending bolts of sensation through Red’s body.

Red opened her mouth to answer, compelled by the imperative tone in Anne’s voice, but she hesitated. Across the room a group of six men worked, their foreman a rough, charismatic man who had already laid his hand on Red. Perhaps they could not see Red where she was currently knelt, the sofa blocking most of their view, but she was acutely aware of their presence. At any moment one might wander over to ask a question and see her kneeling all-but nude, her knees spread wide and the lips of her vulva kissing Anne’s toes.

Yet before Red sat Anne, an amused smile on her face, who had taken liberties with Red’s body from the moment she’d arrived. She’d allowed – if not encouraged – the gradual exposure of Red’s nudity, stoked her arousal, fondled and played with her breast. She’d even had Red display herself before the UPS man – then encouraged him to touch her.

Even as Red hesitated, still contemplating Anne’s question, compelled to answer but unable to do so until she had an answer to give, Anne’s toes pushed further forward. Her foot was gentle but insistent, caressing Red’s labia, but then Red felt herself parted, spread open, as the foot between her legs pushed between. Red felt Anne’s toes wriggle in beneath her bottom, the bridge of her foot nestling firmly against her pussy. Her lips were pushed against Anne’s skin, and more than anything the contact served to remind Red of just how aroused she was and had been for so long. She was wet, she was soaked, and her juices were being deliberately spread by Anne, over the top of her foot.

“I… I can’t answer. I can’t decide,” Red lifted pleading eyes to Anne’s face, her breath catching in her throat as again Anne ground against her.

“Perhaps because you are equally aware of both me and the men.”

“Yes,” Red gasped, “yes, that’s right.”

“Mmm, how interesting,” Anne murmured. “Did you like it when I touched you earlier?”

“Yes, I did,” Red whispered, unaware that Anne had merely asked a question; there had been no command to answer. Red had admitted it of her own volition.

Anne nodded thoughtfully. “And now?” even as she asked Red felt her push her foot more firmly against Red’s spread sex.

“Yes,” Red whispered again.

“Have you been with a woman before, Red?”

“No… never.”

Another nod. Anne pulled her foot from between Red’s hands, switching it with the one between her legs. Reflexively, Red began to massage Anne’s other foot, even as the first nestled firmly up against her moist labia. The skin on Anne’s foot was damp and slick from Red’s own arousal as she held it between her fingers, pushing her thumbs firmly into Anne’s sole as she continued to provide a massage.

“You’re very good at that.”

“Thank you,” Red whispered, her reply merely a reflex.

“In fact, I’d say you are very good at kneeling naked, at my feet. And that makes me wonder, Red: what aroused you more, the touch of my hand on your body, or the realization you would do whatever I asked of you?”

“Your control of me. The vulnerability you made me feel,” and again Red had answered willingly, without being instructed. She squirmed against the foot between her legs; even merely voicing those words had pushed her arousal higher.

Anne smiled. “I’d wondered as much. In the changing room yesterday afternoon, you seemed so eager to taste that horrible man’s cum. Do you recall?”

The change of subject may have been sudden, but Red would never forget that encounter; it was etched into her memory for all time, every moment of it. She nodded, unconsciously licking her lips as she remembered the taste of cum in her mouth. Steven’s too, for that matter. It hadn’t even occurred to her to question how Anne knew.

“I see you do recall,” Anne observed, and her tone was amused. “Have you always been hungry for the taste of cum, Red?”

“No… no, not at all,” Red shook her head for emphasis, recalling that, until very recently, the thought of a man’s seed in her mouth had filled her with disgust.

“And are you now? Tell me.” Anne’s imperative was not lost on Red.

“Oh, fuck yes,” she breathed, her eyes glittering as she looked up at Anne. “I love it. I didn’t always love it, but now I do. I don’t know why… but… I love the taste of it so much.”

“And behind me there are six men, all with cocks that could be used to penetrate your holes, fill you with their seed, and make you eat their cum.”

Red’s body twitched like a marionette on a string, her eyes looking past Anne and over the sofa. She whimpered at Anne’s words, her mind filled only with thoughts of the men such a short distance away.

“Would you like to crawl from my feet, pulling open your sash as you do so, and head slowly, vulnerably… nude… into the midst of all those men? Tell me.”

Red’s body trembled with lust. Merely the idea Anne had proposed had almost made her orgasm. “More than anything.” She lifted her eyes entreatingly to Anne’s. “Please, Anne, may I?”

“Tell me what you would want them to do to you.”

“Oh…” Red moaned, “grab me, pull me to them… throw me over the bed… rip off my robe… pin me down. And then use me… take my mouth, my pussy… force me to please them… use my body for their pleasure. All of them. In my mouth and in my pussy at the same time. And then… then to turn me over… to use my ass, while another uses my mouth again… until I am covered in their cum… full of their cum…” Red trailed off, her eyes wide, her skin flushed with the images in her mind.

Anne cleared her throat softly. “Would you enjoy that?”

“Yes,” an answer truthful in its simplicity, as earnest as Red could deliver it.

“Merely sex, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you such a slut, then?”

Red lowered her eyes, unable to look at Anne. “I… I didn’t used to be. The mirror has made me one.”

“Do you like it? Tell me.” And despite the command, Anne’s voice was soft, gentle.

“Yes… so help me but yes, I love it.” Red blushed with shame as she whispered her admission, unable to meet Anne’s eyes.

Behind them, the men had finished installing the mirror over Red’s bed, and she could hear them drilling into her walls. She wondered briefly what they might be doing, but the answer was so obvious it came immediately: more mirrors. And a hook and pulley, she remembered, whatever that meant.

“Last questions, as I think the men are almost done. What if I were to order you to crawl forward, between my legs, and taste me?”

Red’s eyes dropped to Anne’s skirt, where it fell across her lap covering her. “I would obey you, willingly.”

“Do you wish to?”

Red nodded, again pleading with her eyes, yet she knew she could not move until Anne had given her permission, and she remained kneeling before her, her body quivering with need.

“Think carefully on this one. Would you prefer to beg me to let you taste me, or would you prefer me to simply order you to do so?”

“I… I…” Red hesitated, her mind in turmoil. She had already shared so many of her most intimate, private desires with Anne. Yet she was still constrained by her upbringing, both parental and societal, and a girl such as she simply did not give voice to the answer Anne sought.

“Tell me, Red.”

“I would want you to make me beg… to order me to beg.” She cringed with shame. Had she not just chosen to remain quiet? A simple command from Anne, and she answered as though her reluctance was inconsequential.

Anne smiled slowly. “It is as I thought.”

Behind them the noises of construction had finished, and the men were chatting as they packed away their tools.

“Last question,” Anne spoke quickly, as if she expected to be interrupted soon. “If you had to choose between gratuitous sex with these men, and being ordered to beg by me, what would your decision be? Tell me, now!”

“Being ordered to beg!” Red whispered, her eyes wide.

Anne smiled, apparently satisfied. “You were always a perfect specimen, my dear.”

A man cleared his throat, approaching from behind the sofa. “Am I interrupting?”

“You are not to move unless I expressly permit it,” Anne hissed at Red, even as she pulled her feet from her and slipped her shoes back on. Red remained kneeling, her body trembling from arousal. “No, we were about done,” Anne replied in her normal voice.

John came around the sofa, his eyes widening as he saw Red kneeling, an easy grin spreading over his face. Red wasn’t sure what he could see from the angle at which he stood; for sure, her breasts were exposed as they had been, one probably fully given the angle of his approach and the way her kimono now gaped open as she knelt, but whether he could see between her spread knees… that wasn’t clear. It was enough, of course, that he knew her to be kneeling, legs wide. She blushed in shame, but his eyes on her pushed another tremor of arousal through her body. If Anne hadn’t insisted she didn’t move, she knew she would have crawled to him and begged to suck his cock.

Whether Anne had done her a favor or not, she couldn’t be sure.

Red's gaze followed Anne as she rose, leaving Red kneeling on the carpet like an abandoned and discarded toy.

“Are you all done?” Anne asked. Though Red couldn’t see much past the sofa, she saw some of the men whisking away the dust sheets and bundling them up with care.

“Yes; both sides, and the mirror above the bed.” He smirked at Red. “It was an interesting commission. And a rush-job, too… very rare.”

“Yes, yes,” Anne clearly thought little of the man’s opinion. “You were well paid for the extra speed.”

“And then some,” John confirmed.

“Then our business is concluded. I expect you to vacate the premises immediately.”

John bristled, his face clouding. “As you say, ma’am, but there’s no need to be rude.”

Anne ignored him, dismissing him with a turn of her head, and John grumbled to himself as he walked back to his crew.

To Red’s surprise, Anne positioned herself directly behind her, her legs gently pressing against Red’s back. Red felt Anne's hands slide into her hair, the touch soothing and possessive, a combination of gentle massage and playful twirling of her maroon locks. From her vantage point over the sofa, Anne kept a watchful eye on the men, ensuring their departure.

A moment stretched into another as Red listened to the fading sounds of the men leaving her apartment, accompanied by the comforting pressure of Anne's fingers delving deeper into her hair. The sensation was pleasant, gradually easing the tension that had built up in her body, despite the lingering arousal that coursed through her. Closing her eyes, Red surrendered to the tranquility of Anne's gentle touch, though it was difficult to relax when her body had been stimulated for so long, her desires remaining unfulfilled. She hoped Anne would not keep her waiting for long, once the men had left.

The apartment door shut with a resounding thud, likely a display of John's dissatisfaction at Anne's abrupt dismissal.

"Good, we're alone again. It took much longer than anticipated," Anne expressed her dissatisfaction, and Red silently hoped that her actions hadn't played a part in Anne's displeasure. However, Anne's tone softened as she glanced down at Red. "Shall we see what they've left us?"

"Please," Red replied, her response clipped with anxiety as she anticipated seeing the mirrors that had been installed.

"Oh, one moment before you do," Anne interjected, swiftly crossing behind the sofa. "You need to see it at its best, and it's getting murky in here." After a brief pause, all the sconces flicked on, flooding the apartment with light. "Too much," Anne muttered, locating the dimmer switch to soften the lights into a gentle glow. Anne reappeared from around the edge of the sofa.

"Up you get then," she said casually, and Red smiled with gratitude. She had been given permission to move, and it felt like a hidden force had been lifted. Surprisingly, Red felt light on her feet as she pushed herself up from the floor. Even her legs didn't feel too stiff, despite kneeling for so long.

She gasped in awe as she laid eyes on her bedroom. Even from a distance, the mirrors were impossible to miss. Enough of the room was visible from where she stood that she could see the size of the mirrors that had been installed. Even looking in through the entry archway allowed Red to see much of the room, such were the way in which the mirrors were angled.

With cautious steps Red approached her bedroom, then paused mid-step as there was yet another knock on the door.

“Oh, finally!” Anne exclaimed with more than a hint of exasperation. “I thought it would never arrive! Don’t worry dear, I’ll take care of this,” she said as she made her way to the door, “You go ahead and take a look inside.”

Red smiled gratefully in Anne's direction before making her way slowly into her bedroom. As she entered, her reflection appeared and multiplied across each mirror, offering her a multitude of perspectives. The arrangement of the mirrors was simple yet ingenious, allowing Red to observe herself from any corner of the room.

Placed strategically on the walls were four large mirrors angled to reflect Red’s bed as the obvious centerpiece. Below each mirror was another, angled more sharply to point at the ceiling mirror directly above the bed. Red envisioned that when lying down, a slight tilt of her head would allow her to see one or more of the wall mirrors, each in turn enabling a captivating, elevated reflection of the entire bed through the ceiling mirror. She shivered at the implication: there would be no avoiding seeing what was happening on the bed, and from numerous angles.

Against one wall they’d mounted a small electric motor, rope wound around its drum and fed up to a ring affixed in the ceiling. From there dangled a pair of pulleys, the rope wound between, terminating in a hook. Red glanced at it curiously; it looked for all the world like the sort of thing one would find in a butcher’s shop, to suspend a slab of meat… Oh. She looked away, her unease growing.

She paused before one of the mirrors, examining her own reflection. Her kimono was in complete disarray, revealing much of her nakedness. Her nipple on one side had slipped free, the other only barely covered, while the gap at the bottom showed a hint of her vulva even when she stood quite still. Yes, she didn’t fancy facing another delivery man exposed as she was.

She made her way into the middle of her bedroom, close to the bed, the mirrors all around her reflecting her scantily covered nudity. She paused, contemplating the portent of all her new mirrors (and the hook) while Anne dealt with the late arrival. The sound of their exchange reached Red's ears, with Anne reprimanding the man and receiving a half-hearted apology in return. Soon, the door closed once more, leaving Red and Anne alone again.

As Red looked around, she couldn't escape the reflections of herself and the unmade bed in the mirrors that surrounded her. She swallowed nervously; the mirrors were beautiful, the workmanship perfect, but to Red it meant nothing less than full exposure, full control.

"How do you like it?" Anne inquired, unwrapping a substantial package and leaving a trail of discarded brown paper on the carpet as she moved closer. She glanced inside, assessing the contents to her satisfaction before letting the package fall to the carpet. Evidently the contents were neither fragile nor weighty.

"It's... beautiful," Red replied with a touch of apprehension, her eyes shifting between Anne and the mirrors, trying to avoid looking at the hook but seeing it dangling forebodingly in every reflection. "But also somewhat daunting."

“Most of the beauty comes from you, my dear. Why don’t you remove that kimono, now – it’s hiding so little anyway – and lie down on the bed.”

Red’s fingers fell to the sash at her waist even before Anne had finished talking, pulling it free and letting it fall to dangle either side of her. In the many mirrors, the front of Red’s nude body was reflected around the room.

"We don't need this," Anne declared, swiftly pulling off Red's rumpled duvet and discarding it to the floor, leaving only the sheet below. Red’s kimono landed on the floor at the same time, and now in every mirror she could see herself fully nude, for each mirror was angled to reflect another, showing Red from multiple perspectives wherever she looked.

Anne circled around the bed while Red approached it. "Or these," Anne commented, swiftly removing Red's pillows and tossing them onto the discarded duvet. She smiled at Red, her eyes running casually over her nakedness. “There, aren’t you beautiful? All we need is you.”

Red carefully crawled into the centre of the empty bed, surrounded by her numerous reflections. It was unnerving, seeing herself in so many ways, even more so knowing that at any moment, one of them might wink at her. Or worse.

Her pulse was racing, her heart beating fast in her chest.

Anne appeared to have noticed her growing anxiety. “Lie down, dear,” Anne encouraged her. “With every passing moment you’ll feel more relaxed, and so much happier with your new setup.”

It was as if Anne’s words were exactly what Red needed to hear, for she immediately felt calmer. Indeed, the mirrors Anne had chosen suited the décor of her apartment perfectly, and they really did look beautiful.

She stretched out on her bed and rolled onto her back, looking up at the mirror directly above. It showed the entirety of her bed to perfection, her own body nude in the centre, pale against her dark-blue sheets, and the clarity was flawless. That mirror was stunning too, and so large; Red found herself relaxing further as she admired it. Even her reflection was beautiful, she had to admit; she had always been secretly fond of her body but rarely had she been fully nude, and never arrayed like this. Always in bed she’d worn something – at least, prior to yesterday. Her vulva, too, perfectly bare, carried its own beauty, as the mirror had shown her back in the changing room; was it really only just the previous day? So much had happened.

“How do you feel? Better?”

Red considered. She was certainly much more relaxed than she had been a few minutes previously and couldn’t remember the reason for her apprehension. “I feel quite fine, thank you.”

Anne nodded, smiling. “Don’t forget… this bedroom is a most exciting place now. Whenever you are in here, whether by yourself or not, as the case may be,” Red blushed slightly at that implication, “you will know how beautiful it is, how erotic the possibilities, how sensual a creature you are, and how much you like to see yourself nude in the mirrors.”

It was true, Red realized as she listened to Anne. The room had been enhanced significantly, and the mirrors added tempting possibilities. Slowly, she trailed her hand down her own body, fingers spreading across her skin. She turned her head to look in one of the wall mirrors, seeing her reflection side-on, but also, in the lower angled mirror, a reflection of herself from above. It was as if she was watching an erotic film where she was the star, and it was deliciously sensual. Her fingers dipped between her legs, exploring her arousal, and it was like watching a stranger touch herself in all the reflections about her. She shivered with pleasure.

“If you’re in here with others,” Anne spoke softly, her voice resonating with Red’s emotions, “at first you will feel reluctance. They may have to force you, to order you or compel you; you will resist, but only so that your final capitulation is that much sweeter. You will rile against them, you will struggle, you will deny them much – but not all – of what they wish from you. But as time passes, you will grow more compliant, more responsive to their desires.”

She paused, walking around the bed, watching Red pleasure herself.

“Ultimately, your pleasure is achieved through theirs. When you bring them rapture, your own ecstasy will be that much greater. The longer you have a visitor in your apartment, the greater will be your desire to please them, until there will be nothing you want more than their happiness, and nothing you won’t be willing to do to achieve it. When they are satisfied, your reward will be great.”

Anne stood near the bed, observing her intently, and Red suddenly saw herself to be on display. She needed to put on a show, to demonstrate to Anne how much she appreciated all Anne had done. Anne had been with her most of the afternoon, and in all that time, had Red really shown her how important she was? She would make up for it now. Anne liked to watch her; she knew that much. She found Anne’s eyes with her own, holding her gaze in the most intimate of ways as she slowly spread her legs wide, revealing herself fully. She had a burning need to share herself with Anne, in any way that Anne might wish of her.

She spread her fingers against her own sex, opening herself fully to Anne’s gaze, revealing how wet she was, the inner-most pinkness of her core, the most intimate part of her. And as Anne watched, she slowly pushed her middle finger inside herself, keeping herself held open as she did so as to not impede Anne’s view, and a small whimper of desire, of need, slipped from her lips.

“Perfect,” murmured Anne. “Turn over for me, dear.”

Red slipped her hand from between her legs, turning swiftly, eager and willing to please. Her head looked to the mirrors at her side, seeking her reflection. Slowly she extended her arms up the mattress, her fingers winding sensuously around the iron bars of her headboard.

“Exactly like that. Hold still, please.”

Red didn’t feel a need to move for any reason; if Anne wished her like this, then this was how she would remain.

Anne silently moved away, her steps muffled in the plush carpet, yet Red's eyes remained fixed on her through the myriad of mirrors. Observing Anne's graceful movement towards the coffee table, Red could feel the heightened rhythm of her pulse, a delightful anticipation building within her; this was a sensual room, and Anne was right to have brought Red all those gifts. She would doubtless need every one of them if she were to fully realize the erotic potential Anne had envisioned.

She watched Anne returning in the mirrors, a collection of items clutched in her hands. Red felt her arousal rekindle as Anne approached, almost as if her stepping away had been a fleeting reprieve. Her mere proximity caused Red’s pulse to accelerate once more.

“Let’s start with these,” and Red felt Anne’s fingers on one ankle, followed by the feel of supple leather. A metallic chink followed as Anne fastened the cuffs in place with a tiny padlock. The cuffs she’d ordered were of the highest quality, and the fit around Red’s ankle was snug but comfortable. Red purred with pleasure at the thought of Anne equipping her as she wished and couldn’t wait to discover what she might wish to do next. Anne grasped Red’s other ankle, fastening the second cuff in place as she had the first, another small padlock affixed. “These look good on you,” she murmured, and Red saw in the mirror that she was right: the cuffs and their locks added a fitting sense of ownership to Red’s nudity.

Anne moved around the bed until she could reach Red’s wrists, wrapping them tightly in the last pair of cuffs. Red saw that the cuffs were adjustable, slotting over themselves and fastened with a simple popper, while the padlock slipped through a metal hoop, holding the cuffs securely. A second, larger hoop remained unused – presumably Anne would address that too, in time.

“Hmm, what next. I think…” Anne murmured to herself as she returned to the foot of the bed, and the collection of items she’d left beside Red’s feet. “Yes, perfect.”

Red felt Anne tugging at one ankle cuff as she attached something through its hoop, the same repeated with the other ankle. It felt like something was weighing down her legs a little, and she recognised it as the spreader bar.

“Now… how wide…” Red heard the dial click through its traction and her ankles were pushed slightly outwards. She watched in a mirror, seeing her reflection into the mirror above her bed, as her legs were slowly forced apart. “Hmm,” Anne murmured to herself, “we need…”

Anne retrieved the package she had casually dropped earlier and swiftly removed the remaining packaging. Unveiled was a large, wedge-shaped cushion, leaving Red intrigued and curious about its purpose.

“Lift your hips, please, dear.” Red complied eagerly; it was so fulfilling to show Anne how willing she could be. Anne slid the wedge beneath Red’s hips, taking care to ensure it was centrally placed. “Lie down again, please. Keep your thighs against the wedge.”

Red obeyed, feeling the pillow tilt her pelvis forward, her back angling down, her hips elevated. In the mirrors it looked like she was offering herself, and that was perfect – it was exactly how she wished to present herself for Anne.

Anne had returned to the foot of the bed, and Red knew that her view was much improved. The dial clicked again and again, spreading Red’s legs apart as she watched in the mirrors, seeing her vulva now prominently displayed.

“Much better,” Anne murmured, trailing one hand along the back of Red’s thigh and up over the smooth curve of her ass. Red shivered with pleasure to be touched so, her hips squirming slightly beneath Anne’s hand. “It is possibly the most perfect bottom I have seen, but…”

Anne’s hand slipped from Red’s skin and she whimpered at its loss. She appeared at Red’s side, the chrome metal plug in one hand. “Open, please, dear. I need you to make this slick for me.”

Red parted her lips, enjoying the opportunity to look up directly at Anne, rather than watching her through the mirrors. The plug was cool on her tongue and an alien feeling in her mouth, but there was pleasure to be gained from being penetrated by Anne, and she moaned softly as she licked and sucked on it. “You look cute with a plug in your mouth, dear.” Red squirmed with delight at her words.

Anne pulled gently, and Red let the plug slip from her mouth. She laid her head back on the mattress, her bottom wiggling slightly in anticipation of feeling Anne’s hands on her again. She watched in the mirror as Anne stroked her ass. “You really do have quite a lovely bottom.” The plug was cold as she pushed it against Red’s puckered hole, and she forced herself to relax. It was quite a large plug; it had filled her mouth, and she knew it would stretch her.

Red could not help but gasp as Anne pushed, the tip of the plug slowly penetrating her, each subsequent inch stretching her more. Her breathing became ragged as she tried to avoid a whimper of discomfort; Anne wanted this, and she was determined to accept it willingly and without protest. In the end, it proved almost too much; her ass was too tight, the plug too large, and a small cry escaped her lips. But Anne didn’t seem disappointed and with a final push, the plug slipped fully in, the jeweled base nestling between her cheeks.

“Good girl,” Anne patted her bottom, and Red felt another surge of pleasure. Her ass felt fuller than… well, since Steven had fucked it just the night before, but that too seemed such a long time ago, and she could just make out the red of the jewel in the mirrors’ reflection. It matched her hair perfectly; a thoughtful touch.

“Almost there,” Anne muttered, and Red gasped as Anne touched her exposed sex with her fingers for the first time. Perhaps Anne intended to play with her there, and she tried to envision how she must look: her legs held apart by the spreader, her ass raised, and her hips tilted forwards, as if in offering. Her vulva would be prominently on display, easily accessible, and Red could think of no better way to present herself for Anne’s pleasure.

Gently Anne parted her labia, the sensation electric, sending pleasure through her body, and she shivered with bliss as Anne pushed something firm and egg-shaped inside her moist canal. Another pat on her ass, and Anne moved beside her, showing Red what she held in her hand. “Remote control, five settings. Let’s start with level one, shall we? It’s quite a powerful little thing, this model.”

She pushed the button and Red jerked in surprise, moaning softly as her body trembled. Anne stayed beside her for some moments, watching the play of emotions across Red’s face. “How does that feel, dear?”

Red gasped softly as she tried to speak. “…It feels…” arousing, artificial, intrusive, sensuous… “…pleasant, thank you…”

“Oh good, that’s nice. I wouldn’t think you’d reach orgasm on level one. Level five, mind you… well. For now, let’s leave it at level one.”

Anne returned to the coffee table as Red watched in the mirror, chewing on her lip as the vibe continued to send tingles through her body, stoking her already significant arousal. It wasn’t enough to take her higher, but it was far too much to ignore; she whimpered as she clenched around it, but that seemed to make little difference.

Anne was back, the flogger, paddle, rope, and ball gag in her hands. These she left on the small table near the foot of Red’s bed, easily within reach.

“A couple of final touches, I think…” she took Red’s right wrist by the cuff and cable-tied the hoop to the headboard. “That should hold you.” Red tugged experimentally, but the cuff hardly moved at all. “I’ll leave these spare ones on the table, I think,” Anne muttered, as if to herself.

“Well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” she asked Red, smiling down at her.

Red glanced at her in the mirror, then caught sight of herself from the reflection in the mirror above her bed. Her ass was up in the air, the butt plug twinkling red. One wrist bound, her legs held wide by the spreader bar. Her sex, gratuitously on display, pulsed in time to the vibe inside it, and with the pillow beneath her and her ankles bound, she was restrained and displayed. She whimpered softly at her reflection.

Anne pulled her phone from the pocket of her suit jacket and took pictures from various angles; Red heard it click several times as Anne slowly crossed behind her. “Lovely.”

Once more Anne returned to her side, kneeling beside the bed so she could watch Red’s face more closely.

“The thing is, Red, your willing subservience isn’t of much interest to me. I want to see you humiliated, shamed, and begging to be allowed to come.” Red whimpered at her words, her eyes full of longing. She desperately wanted to please Anne, but the older woman had just told her she wasn’t interested. She didn’t know what to do, and the pain of her helplessness was vivid.

“I so much enjoyed watching you being abused by that horrible shop keeper yesterday afternoon,” she smiled at Red’s surprise, “Oh yes, you see: I can watch through the mirrors, too.” She laughed slightly, enjoying the shock on Red’s face. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Red. There is a degree of compulsion that I have over you, now that you’ve been exposed to the mirror – quite a large degree, actually. I could have you merely submit, in every single way, but where would the fun be in that?”

She pulled another phone from her pocket. “This is called a Nokia 3310. I wouldn’t expect you to know that: it’s almost as old as you are. This one still works; please take good care of it, I might want it back. You will have noticed it has a very small screen, no internet access here, no texts either. I’ve pre-programmed it with a single number; no other number will work. Well, 911 probably works too, and however much you might like several burly firemen to find you like this, you are not to dial it. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Anne,” Red acknowledged, trembling as the full helplessness of her situation was made apparent to her.

“I’m just going to leave it here, beside your hand. You can use it whenever you like; I wouldn’t wait too long, if I were you, for there’ll be no escape otherwise. Oh, and the battery isn’t fully charged… let’s just call that an extra incentive.”

She rose, giving Red a smile. “For the avoidance of doubt, you are not to attempt to move from your current position until given permission to do so.” Anne trailed her fingertips over Red’s bottom and made as if to leave.

“Wait! Please!” Red cried out in desperation, though she hardly knew what she could say.

Anne paused, turning. “Yes? You may ask one question.”

Red hesitated; it was difficult to form a coherent thought in her current predicament, let alone an intelligent question. “Whose number is it?”

“Hmm, a surprisingly pertinent question. Do you remember Alfie? Never mind, I know you don’t. He remembers you, though. He doesn’t live too far away, does he? Don’t worry, I’ve already told the concierge to expect him.”

Anne smiled again and gave Red’s bottom a little pat.

“I’ll be leaving you now. I do hope you have a very pleasant evening. I’ll be watching, of course.”

Anne hummed a little tune as she flicked the latch off the door and let herself out, the door closing lightly behind her.

Red sobbed once, eyeing the phone beside her hand.

The vibe continued to gently buzz.

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

Chapter 4 – Red Gets Rescued

The vibe was making it hard to think.

She had to escape; that much was clear.

The pillow beneath her was easy, the spreader bar locked to her ankles more difficult. The butt plug a humiliating inconvenience; the vibe a distraction. But the cable tie that locked her wrist cuff to the headboard was a significant obstacle.

Best to start with the pillow, and then the vibe. At least, then, she could move a little more freely and think a little more clearly.

It was a simple matter. Move her free hand to the pillow, grab, pull. The decision was made. The plan – such as it was – ready to be enacted.

So why wasn’t she doing it?

Her arm refused to move. Oh, she could wiggle her fingers and bend her elbow perfectly normally, but when she tried to grasp and pull the pillow, nothing happened.

Red sobbed in frustration, her fist thumping ineffectually into the mattress, serving to do little more than make Anne’s phone jump slightly.

She took a steadying breath, then another. In the corner of her eye sat the mirrors, reflecting her helpless nudity, her body displayed obscenely. Was Anne watching even now? Perhaps she could watch through any mirror, not just the one Red had seen in the house. Red knew Anne wouldn’t want to miss this show. Yet if she couldn’t use just any mirror to watch, then she must have the mirror nearby, which meant she had a home in New York.

Fat lot of good that conclusion does me now, Red thought bitterly.

So she couldn’t move the pillow. Perhaps, at least, she could stand up. Even with the awkward hampering of the spreader bar, if she could slip her legs to the side, she might be able to stand. Maybe find a way to apply some leverage to the cable tie holding her cuff to the headboard.

There was no way she was calling Alfie for help if she could escape on her own. Whoever the hell ‘Alfie’ was. Oh, she’d met him – both Steven and Anne had confirmed that – but if he’d made so little impression on her that she couldn’t even pick him out of the list of dates her father had arranged for her, then how did that reflect on him? Or on me, a voice in her head added, but she wasn’t in the mood to listen.

No, escape first. Self-reflection and recriminations later.

Why weren’t her legs moving? The spreader bar didn’t feel that heavy. In fact, she knew it wasn’t – she’d held it herself.

Had Anne fed her some kind of paralytic? No… she’d eaten and drunk nothing. And she could wiggle her toes, flex her muscles.

So why couldn’t she swing her legs to the side? Or roll her hips? Or move the damn pillow?

Tears of frustration spilled from her eyes.

Think, she told herself, think.

And then, with a lurch in her stomach that made her feel nauseous, she realized.

“For the avoidance of doubt, you are not to attempt to move from your current position until given permission to do so.”

No. It couldn’t be. Could it? But she didn’t want to obey Anne anymore! It wasn’t a game anymore!

Had it ever been merely a game? She’d obeyed, yes. She’d done so willingly; she had to admit that. But she’d been ever so aroused, felt ever so submissive.

Why had she wanted to please Anne so badly? She sure as hell didn’t want to please her now. She was almost twice her age, and a woman. Red wasn’t into women, why had she responded as she had? Oh sure, objectively, Anne wasn’t unattractive. Far from it. But it was hardly as if she was the most stunning creature Red had ever set eyes on, with an animal magnetism second only to Henry Cavill. No, Red knew she wouldn’t have given Anne a second look.

So why had she given her a second, third and fourth look? Obeyed her, so completely?

Red shuddered with the memory of willing bending before Anne, her robe rising high over her ass, revealing herself in the most intimate and obscene of ways, Anne’s hand caressing her skin. She’d wanted to move but hadn’t. Yet it had aroused her, in spite of herself. Hell, the memory was arousing her now… or maybe that was just the vibe Anne had left inside her.

It was so hard to think, dammit!

What had Anne said, after she’d had her bend over? “Stay like that for me,” or something similar. And Red had done so. She’d been unable to move.

But no, that was impossible.

With a sense of dread, she remembered kneeling before the sofa, John approaching. Wanting to crawl to him and being unable to do so. “You are not to move unless I expressly permit it.”

Red shuddered with horror. Once, was perhaps arousal and submission. Twice, a misremembered coincidence. But three times? Three separate occasions where she’d been physically incapable of moving, merely off Anne’s words?

And then the twirl, before the UPS man. Hadn’t her body responded of its own volition?

It was too much to rationalize, and yet the evidence was right before her – as blatant as her complete inability to grasp a light-weight cushion and pull it from beneath her hips.

Red took another shuddering breath. It would have been so much easier to think through all that had happened if that damn vibe wasn’t buzzing inside her, sending jolts of unwanted pleasure through her overly sensitive body.

She whimpered despite herself. Damn, but that vibe feels good. How bad would it be to just take a moment to enjoy it?

Red gritted her teeth. No. She mustn’t let herself be distracted. She had to figure this out.

What else could she remember? Why could she remember so little? Why was it so hard to remember? It wasn’t just the vibe inside her, distracting her with pleasurable tremors, her sex clenching around it, her nipples tight, her eyes closing in bliss… No, dammit! Red bit her tongue to distract from the sensations.

“Don’t forget… this bedroom is a most exciting place now. Whenever you are in here, whether by yourself or not, as the case may be, you will know how beautiful it is, how erotic the possibilities, how sensual a creature you are…”

Oh no. Oh no, please, it couldn’t be. No, that was too much to accept. Surely, a mere turn of phrase? Could those words from Anne possibly have had the same power of influence as her commands for Red to hold still, or to twirl?

It was the hardest thing Red had ever done to recall other things Anne had said to her. Each memory, each recollection, seemed an insubstantial wisp, hidden in the fog of her mind. And even that didn’t seem right; was it really so difficult to remember what someone has said?

Anne had asked her to remove her kimono; she remembered that. She’d done it too, willingly. Why had she done it? Anne had told her to lie down, and that too she had willingly done. But then she hadn’t tried to resist, so maybe she’d wanted to.

Oh, but it was so confusing! So difficult to understand where her desires stopped, and Anne’s had taken over!

Yet, Red had come to realize the truth: that Anne had been compelling her, controlling her, as incredible as it seemed.

And in that moment another memory surfaced: a shocking, alarming, terrifying memory: “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Red. There is a degree of compulsion that I have over you, now that you’ve been exposed to the mirror – quite a large degree, actually. I could have you merely submit, in every single way, but where would the fun be in that?”

It hadn’t made an impact on Red at the time. It did now. Why hadn’t it made an impact? And then Red remembered: because Anne had, but a moment before, told her she could watch through the mirrors, and so shocked had Red been by this revelation that perhaps it had suppressed her recollection of what had followed.

Red closed her eyes as she fought to focus. She could remember all that had happened without issue, except for some of what Anne had said to her. Many of her memories of what Anne had said seemed obfuscated, each requiring an effort to recall. Some of the other memories had been confused with her own sense of arousal; maybe that was why... she couldn’t easily discern what Anne had said when it so closely matched Red’s own latent desires. To expose herself, which Red had to admit was arousing. To hold still, under the eyes of a lustful man, feeding her own sense of shame, vulnerability and helplessness… and arousal. Lying naked on the bed, touching herself before Anne… “how sensual a creature you are…”

Yet this seemed a poor excuse for the effort it took to remember what had happened. Was Anne somehow affecting her mind? Comments, remarks, she could remember… no, it was just Anne’s instructions that seemed to elude her grasp… “there is a degree of compulsion…”

Her pulse was racing, her skin covered in a sheen of perspiration, as much from terror as the levels of arousal that still persisted within her, and all along the hellacious vibe buzzing in her sex, a constant reminder of Anne’s perverted control over her.

Alright. So. Anne could control her. Incredible – impossible, even – but she could no longer deny it was true.

“Can you make me do things, Anne?”

“What do you think, dear girl?”

And Red had persuaded herself that Anne could not. Oh, how delicious must Anne have found that moment!

Yet if she could now recall the compulsions Anne had placed upon her, could she not fight them? Perhaps, if she focused enough, she could resist… yet no matter how hard she tried, still she could not bring herself to move her hand to grasp the pillow and pull it free. Such a simple task, yet beyond her.

She cried out her frustration, thumping her fist down into the mattress.

And in that moment Red made herself a promise: she would find Anne and make her stop all that she was doing. Whatever it took. However long it took.

But first, she had to escape.

Red glanced at the phone Anne had left for her. Could she risk it? Could she trust Alfie?

There was no answer to that. She didn’t know him at all.

But surely her father only set her up with gentlemen. Perhaps she could trust him after all.

Gentlemen like Steven? the voice inside her head reminded her, and again she shuddered.

Yet in Steven’s defense, he hadn’t forced himself upon her – no, as much as anything, it had been the other way around. Red had turned up in crotchless panties and a dress so short she could’ve legitimately claimed it was a crop top. She’d spread her knees for him, said nothing when he’d touched her. Later, in the bedroom, she’d played with herself before him and then pulled his cock out and devoured it.

She shivered as she recollected the hunger and desire she’d felt. The unbelievably heady taste of his wonderful, delicious cum in her mouth… so divine, so sensual, so...

Red gritted her teeth and dug her nails into her palms, fighting to resist her own desires to submit to the sensuality that Anne had forced upon her. No, Steven was not to blame for what had happened; that was all on Red, but it was the mirror – the mirror had made her do it.

“Can… can the mirror make me do things?” she’d asked Anne.

“Make you do things?” Anne had replied, “How would it do that? As I said earlier… it reflects only what is within you.”

But that wasn’t true either, was it? Another of Anne’s lies. And yet, for all that, a half-truth, for much of what Red had done she had, ultimately, at least at some level, been willing to do.

It had been the same with the UPS man.

“Would you like him to touch you? Yes or no, answer honestly.”

“Yes,” she’d whispered.

She shuddered at the memory. She had wanted the man to touch her. She’d been that aroused, and Anne had forced that honest response. Was it Red’s fault she couldn’t think of a reason to say ‘no’?

Perhaps she deserved the predicament she now found herself in. Perhaps, if she was honest with herself… maybe she was the slut the mirror showed her to be.

A flash of movement caught her eye. The screen of Anne’s phone was flashing… no, it was the bar in the corner. Battery: and it was almost gone.

Oh no. Oh no. She wasn’t ready. She hadn’t decided! But if she didn’t call… what would happen?

She imagined herself lying on her bed, unable to move, her cries unable to be heard through the thick walls of her luxurious apartment, as she grew weaker and weaker over time. A day, two… would Anne return? She was the only one who knew Red was here; she never had other visitors.

Her trembling hand picked up the phone, saw the number already on the display. Closing her eyes in dread, she pushed the call button.

A moment to swallow, her throat dry and constricted, and the line began to ring.

What would she say? She hadn’t taken the time to think about it, so preoccupied had she been with trying to understand what Anne had done to her.

The line rang on, and she began to panic. What if he didn’t answer? What if he answered and then the battery died?

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank god. Alfie?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Er… it’s… er… Red.”

“Who?”

“Red. It’s… Jamie Sinclair.”

A long pause on the other end of the line. “Jamie Sinclair?” his tone was intrigued, curious.

“Alfie, I don’t have long, and I… I… need your help.”

“What’s the matter?” he sounded more serious, which was reassuring. Perhaps he would be responsible. Perhaps he could be trusted after all.

“I… I need you to come over to my apartment.”

“You what?”

“Um… please could you come over to my apartment. Um… now. Please. Quickly.”

“Why?”

“I…” it was so difficult. What the hell was she supposed to say? “I… just need your help. Please come. I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Look, Jamie, it’s… a quarter past seven, and I have a date tonight. Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“No!” Red closed her eyes in anguish: the thought of having to lie here all night, unable to move in any way, the vibe tormenting her until the battery ran out. “Please, Alfie, please. I know you don’t know me very well, but please. You’re the only person I can… you’re my only chance. Please.”

“Oh… very well. I’ll come,” his reluctance obvious, “But this had better be important – and you owe me.”

“Thank you, Alfie, thank you!”

“I don’t know where you live.”

She closed her eyes, committed. “116 Central Park South. Apartment 34a.”

Another long silence: she almost checked the phone hadn’t died before he responded, “Of course you do. Figures. Very well… about thirty minutes, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Alfie, I am so grateful! The concierge will…” one moment the line was there, the next it was not: the complete silence obvious in its contrast. The screen showed nothing; the phone was dead.

Red exhaled slowly, laying down the phone on the bed. She’d just asked a man she didn’t know to come to her apartment while she was nude, bound, and unable to move.

Dear god, what had she done? She’d done the only thing she could.

Damn Anne! Damn Anne and her evil, manipulative… Red chewed her lip nervously. The vibe continued to buzz within her. What would Alfie do when he found her? She was so helpless, so vulnerable, so… achingly… wet…

Alfie stepped out of the cab and glanced up at the building before him. He shook his head. Stupid prissy little rich bitch, wasting his time on some fool errand. She probably couldn’t open a jam jar or something. Some emergency.

There was a manned front desk; no great surprise in a place like this.

“Evening. I’m a visitor for Miss Sinclair. 34a?”

“Ahh, Mr. Tomlins. Yes, we’ve been expecting you. You may go straight up,” the concierge nodded towards the elevators. “It’s the top floor.”

Jamie must’ve called down. Perhaps that’s why she ended their call so abruptly, even though it had seemed strange at the time. In fairness, he might’ve not come if the call hadn’t dropped so alarmingly. It added a small modicum of credibility to her pleas for help.

She probably wants me to find her phone charger. He pushed the button for the 34th floor.

The entrance to her apartment was a large, double door in some expensive dark wood. Everything about this girl reeked of money: this apartment, this address, her attitude, the staggering indifference with which she’d rebuffed his advances some months prior.

He shook his head again. I must be a fool, this is a total waste of time. He pressed the bell. A two-tone chime sounded inside, muffled by the door and the thick walls of her apartment.

Alfie waited impatiently, checking his watch. He’d told his date he’d be a bit late; pushed back the table with the restaurant (they hadn’t been happy about that), and now Jamie Sinclair was keeping him waiting. Some emergency. He pushed the bell again, then knocked hard on the door for added measure.

The door drifted slightly open under the impact, as though it hadn’t been on the latch. That was odd.

He pushed it further ajar, seeing into her apartment: spacious, cream, soft lighting.

“Jamie?”

“Oh Alfie, thank god!” he heard her voice and stepped in. “I’m in here!”

He frowned. She couldn’t even be bothered to meet him at the door – and yet her tone was off, the note of desperation unmistakable. Something very strange was going on. He stepped in, pushing the door almost closed behind him.

“Where are you?” he said, projecting his voice slightly to fill the quiet of her nauseatingly enormous apartment. His eyes glanced quickly around: black sofas, unused kitchen, some brown packaging paper torn and strewn across the floor. And a disconnected chandelier propped up against the wall, apparently discarded. Peculiar.

“I’m in here! I’m… I’m in the bedroom!”

The bedroom? Alfie felt his eyebrows climb rapidly towards his hairline, and followed the sound of her voice.

Her bedroom was to the left of the door, slightly obscured by a wall that jutted out, a large open archway marking the entrance. Through this he could see several mirrors, and it took him a good second or two to recognize what his eyes were showing him in the reflections, but by that time he’d made it to the archway anyway, and could directly see in.

Alfie stopped abruptly, stunned into immovability.

Her bedroom had mirrors everywhere, a confusing cacophony of visual imagery, but it was her ass that captured and held his gaze. She was lying on the bed naked, but that word was insufficient to describe the blatant sexuality of the position she was in. Her bottom was raised, flagrantly proffered in the most provocative of ways, her legs open, her sex prominent and conspicuously on display.

He took another step, his mind trying to process what he was seeing even as he noticed more details: the spreader bar; all the mirrors; a small table with a riding crop and a flogger; was that… a suspension hook?

Alfie ginned slowly, his eyes drawn back to her ass. Oh, and a butt plug. In red. Of course.

“Seems like you need my help after all, Jai…” the butt plug was the lewd reminder. “…Red.”

“Thank god, Alfie,” he realized she could see him as he noticed her face reflected in the mirror opposite. Her skin was flushed, her expression desperate, her hair slightly matted to her forehead with her own perspiration. “Untie me, please. My wrist…” she pulled ineffectually, and he saw that her small wrist was held in a cuff, somehow affixed to her headboard.

He took another step into her bedroom. “Well, well. You’ve had an eventful evening. Abandoned by a lover?”

He ran his fingers over the contents of the small table: the flogger and riding crop that he’d already seen; a gag, some bondage rope, a small bundle of white cable ties, and a bottle of what looked like lube that he’d only just noticed. “…Quite the party.”

“Please, will you just untie me?” her voice seemed small, vulnerable.

He picked up the riding crop, testing its rigidity between his hands, the creak of the leather loud in the quiet of her bedroom. “I’m surprised he left, whomever it was. I’m not sure I would’ve done.”

“Alfie, I… I want you to untie me,” she sounded desperate, afraid. “Now.” Ah, that was the Red he remembered. The effort to add a sense of the imperative was laughably inadequate, even without the context of her full and sexual exposure.

“Where is he, your lover? I didn’t meet him on my way up.” Alfie took a moment to glance into her bathroom, the door ajar next to one of the mirrors. He pushed it open all the way with the tip of the riding crop: empty. The rest of the apartment he’d already seen. It did appear they were alone.

“There wasn’t… there isn’t anyone here.”

He turned to her in surprise and amusement, taking some paces towards the bed. “You mean to say you did all this yourself?”

“Um…” she was blushing furiously, he noticed now. He was taking in more details with every passing moment as his brain caught up with all the stimuli she – and the room – offered. To be fair, there was quite a lot to take in.

An ancient-looking phone lay on the sheet beside her hand. Clearly with his number in it – tied up as she was, she couldn’t have contacted him through any other means. He hadn’t even realized she’d had it – and for all this time. For that matter, he didn’t even recall giving it to her. How had she got it? What a minx! The screen was blank, suggesting the battery was dead. Maybe that explained the abrupt ending of their call.

There were cuffs on her wrists and ankles, the latter securely fastened to the spreader bar. One wrist free, the other held securely by what looked like a cable tie. He glanced towards the small table, and the other cable ties.

Yes, it made sense… she could do all this herself except for securing the final wrist. Perhaps she was alone, as she’d maintained. Which meant she’d done it all for him. She’d had his number all along, evidently saving it despite her attitude on their failure of a date, and now she’d done… all this. Well, well. The restaurant was going to be seriously pissed when he didn’t show. His date too, for that matter.

He crossed back to the table, replacing the riding crop and picking up a single cable tie. “Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, thank you!” her gratitude was evident, her relief obvious. He lifted her free wrist by its cuff, readying the cable tie. “What are you… no! No! Stop!”

She pulled against him, stronger than he’d expected, but he had the advantage of leverage and greater strength. If this was the game she wanted to play… It took but a moment to loop the cable tie through the hoop on her cuff, pinning her wrist to the headboard while he did so, and another second to thread the cable tie and pull it taut.

“There,” he said with satisfaction, straightening back up, looking down at her fully secured. “If a job’s worth doing, as they say…”

“Alfie, please,” she sounded deliciously anxious; she really was a very good actress. “This isn’t funny. Untie me. Please.”

“I… don’t imagine I’ll be doing that.” he trailed the back of his fingers over her soft skin, his touch almost tentative, reverent, still not quite believing the situation.

“Don’t touch me,” her comment was a reflex, but she made no effort to pull away. Granted, she wasn’t going very far, but she hadn’t even tried, within the realms of freedom that were clearly available to her. What a tease.

“Doesn’t seem to me that you’re in much of a position to make demands.” he trailed his hand lower, letting it slide down towards her deliciously proffered ass. He turned it as he caressed her, wanting to feel the curve of her cheek with his palm.

“No… no, don’t do this, please,” her pleading was comical, yet the tears in her eyes seemed almost genuine, and he felt a heady sense of power.

“Your begging is a nice act, but not very convincing.” his hand continued lower, stroking her as he marveled at the flawlessness of her skin. He’d never imagined she looked as good as this naked. His fingertips dipped into the top of her ass crack as his hand continued its exploration of her.

“No! Don’t touch me there! And… and I’d thank you to be a gentleman and untie me!”

His fingers met the jewel of the plug inside her, and his hand stopped in surprise. “Red…” his tone half-puzzled, half-amused.

“What?” hers was angry.

“Why is your butt plug vibrating?”

She took a shuddering breath, her body trembling under his hand. “It’s not, okay? Now… for the last time, untie me!”

“Oh, but it is. I can feel it.” His fingertips closed more firmly about the red-jewel tipped base, nestled between the taut mounds of her ass cheeks. “Can’t you feel it? I would expect you could feel it, given where it is. There’s definitely a tingle. I didn’t know chrome butt plugs could…”

“I have a vibe inside my… my… vagina, okay?” She pushed her face against the bed, her whimper suddenly muffled.

He chuckled in delight. “You have a vibe in your pussy as well? My, you have pulled out all the stops.” His fingers slipped down to her sex, finding her spread open and drenched with her own excitement. It was easy – and immensely satisfying – to slip a finger inside her. She gasped at his touch, but it took him the barest of moments to ascertain the truth of what she’d said, and his finger slipped away again. “You really do, don’t you? I never knew what a little slut you were.”

He patted her ass cheek gently, wiping her moisture on her skin as he did so.

“There’s… there’s a remote… on the table. You… please… turn it off.” She seemed to be having difficulty forming coherent sentences, and her voice was breathy with arousal. He smiled to himself.

“A remote control, you say?”

“On the table.”

He glanced over, “Hmm… not there, I’m afraid.”

“It must be!”

“Well, sorry, but it isn’t.” He glanced around briefly. “Oh, look, is this it? It was on the bed by your feet.” He turned over a small, grey, plastic rectangle and saw a digital display with arrows up and down. The display showed ‘1’. “I’ve found it.”

“Thank god. Turn it off, please.”

Alfie pressed the up arrow, and the display showed ‘2’. Red twitched beside him, a whimper escaping. “No… no… off! Off!”

Alfie pushed the up arrow again. “It says 3. How many settings does it have?”

Red shuddered, her muscles tensing as she gritted her teeth. “Please, Alfie, please turn it off.” She was begging now, and he smiled again.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” His fingers rested gently on the jewel of her plug; the tingle was certainly more noticeable.

She raised her head from the mattress and turned to look at him. Her face was flushed, her eyes glittering, her mouth slightly parted as she sucked in air, “For the love of god, please turn it off. I can’t… I can’t take any more.”

“How many settings did you say?”

“Five, okay?! It’s fucking got five! Turn it off!”

“Five, eh?” he looked down at the device in his hand. “And this is only number 3?”

He pushed the top arrow again.

“Gnnn,” Red whimpered, her jaw clenched as her head came up, her back tensing as her bottom clenched quite delightfully.

“I can hear it now,” he commented sagely. “It’s quite a powerful little thing, isn’t it? It seems size doesn’t matter after all.”

“Please, Alfie,” she gasped out the words, but it seemed to take quite some effort. “Please no more.”

“No more?” He leant down beside her, propping himself on one elbow near her head, watching her face as he pushed the top arrow again. “I told you that you’d owe me. I’m going to take what I’m due.”

“Oh! Oh!” she gasped, her body twitching, and her mouth opening as if in a silent cry.

“Yes indeed, Red. I’m due quite a lot from you. I’m going to remind you of how you were such a prissy little bitch last time we met. I had a nice date lined up for tonight, too. You’ll be making up for that while I’m here.”

He watched her for a while, a small smile playing on his lips, and let the moments crawl slowly by. Her eyes screwed tightly shut and she whimpered again, and at that moment he pressed the top arrow once more, and the ‘5’ flicked over to a ‘0’. The muffled buzzing sound that he could only vaguely hear disappeared entirely.

Red slumped against the mattress, breathing heavily, and a whimper of frustration slipped from her lips.

It was such fun to torment her that he was quite content to wait.

“Thank… thank you.”

“You think I’m done?” he replied, amused.

“Alfie, please… you’ve had your fun. And I don’t begrudge you that. But… untie me now, please.”

He pushed the up arrow, and the display flicked over to ‘1’.

“I haven’t even begun to have my fun with you, you little bitch.”

She wailed and pushed her face into the mattress. “No! Please!” her whimpers were muffled, but no less exquisite for all that.

“Since you’re not going anywhere, Red…” he tapped the end of the remote control against her bare shoulder to get her attention.

She seemed to ignore him, hiding her face, her breathing ragged.

He flicked the display up to ‘3’. Her body shuddered and he heard her gasp; it was but a moment until her head came up. “Please don’t! Please… I’m… I’m listening.”

He dropped it down to ‘2’. “Why did you call me, Red?”

“To… to help me.”

He chuckled to himself. Oh, he was going to help her alright. For a price. “But why me? Who else did you call?” Not that he resented her reaching out – well, not anymore – but he was genuinely curious. And it was important to know if she’d called anyone else. He didn’t want to be disturbed.

He picked up the old Nokia, examining it. Definitely dead, assuming something so old had ever worked – but obviously it had to have been the phone she’d used, given that no other was within reach. He vaguely wondered why she bothered with such an antiquated device.

“I…” she looked up at him, and he saw the fear in her eyes. “I called a friend, but she said she might be a bit longer.”

He grinned. “That wasn’t even remotely convincing. I don’t think anyone else is coming, are they?”

“They are! I… they will be here soon!”

He pushed himself up from the bed and stood. “Great, I’ll be getting back to my date then. Glad you’re all sorted.” He flicked the remote up to a ‘4’. “This should make your wait more fun.”

She moaned into the sheets, her hips twitching, but he didn’t stay to watch.

Alfie made his way back through the apartment, an easy grin on his face, dropping the phone on the small table as he passed but keeping the remote. He knew she was lying, and she was about to confess it. And, if she wasn’t… well, he’d still have time with her.

“Wait!”

His grin widened. Oh, she was so going to pay.

“Wait! Please, Alfie… don’t go!” her words came around gasps; it appeared that ‘4’ was making it difficult for her to talk. He wondered how much longer the batteries would last.

The door wasn’t properly closed, it merely rested lightly against the jamb. He pushed it shut with one finger and flicked the latch on. It wouldn’t do to be interrupted.

He walked back and stopped against the open archway of her bedroom, watching her hips twitch in the most delightful of ways. With the spreader bar and her hips angled so, the view was incredible… he’d never have anticipated having the stuck-up little Jamie Sinclair so in his control. The possibilities were almost endless.

She’d noticed him in the mirror. “Please, Alfie, please… the vibe… I can’t think.”

He dropped it down to a ‘1’, if only to hear what lame-ass story she would contrive this time.

“Th… thank you,” she was gasping for breath; it took her a moment to steady herself. “I’m sorry to call you, to waste your time. I… I just wanted you to untie me. I wanted you to rescue me. To set me free.”

He shook his head and flicked it back up to ‘3’. “Try again.”

“Stop!” her reaction was immediate. “Untie me!” she wailed, her eyes closing as she fought to repress the sensations the little vibe was obviously stirring.

He took a couple of steps towards her, watching her face in the mirror. “I’m going to make you pay, instead.”

“Fuck you.”

“Wrong answer.” He flicked the display up to ‘5’.

“Fuck you,” she spat at him. He was toying with her, it was obvious he wasn’t going to help her, and she was done with it.

He was such a toad of a man! She’d finally remembered him. Not immediately, of course – he hadn’t made that much of an impression last time they’d met – but his arrogant, selfish attitude, his short-man syndrome poorly hiding his insecurities, his smug demeanor, and his creepy little eyes were exactly the reminder of why she’d wanted to forget him.

“Wrong answer.”

The vibe jumped inside her, buzzing harder than before, and she screwed her eyes shut as she fought to resist the sensations.

Why had she sworn at him? That was such a stupid thing to do!

“…At first you will feel reluctance. They may have to force you, to order you or compel you; you will resist, but only so that your final capitulation is that much sweeter.”

Anne’s voice suddenly played through her memory even as her channel clenched involuntarily around the vibe deep within her. It was hard to focus, hard to think about the words, but she knew she had to resist him. Hadn’t that been what Anne had meant?

“You won’t… make me… come…” she gritted her teeth as she fought him, fought her body.

“Oh, I’m going to make you come alright,” he flicked the vibe off, and the relief was sudden and tangible. She drew a steadying breath. “…but first I’m going to make you beg for it.” The vibe started again, a slow buzz: a low setting. But she knew he would ramp it up whenever he so wished.

“Stop! Stop it, you…” she trailed off, glaring at him even as another wave of pleasure threatened to undo her.

“Yes…?” he took another step closer, looking at her expectantly. “Do go on. ‘You…?’”

“Asshole!” she couldn’t help herself. Why was she provoking him so? He held all the cards. She was playing with fire; he was playing with her.

His jaw clenched. “Asshole?” His thumb on the remote, the vibe buzzing more. And more.

Red couldn’t hold her glare, the sensations were too much. Her head fell forward, pressing into the mattress as she closed her eyes and fought for control.

“I’m going to enjoy this, Red. We could’ve just had some fun, you and me. But now… now I’m going to really enjoy this.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s twice.” His tone was venomous, “And a surprisingly dangerous choice of insult, given our relative positions.”

She glanced up at him then, her eyes widening. “You… you wouldn’t dare! You don’t have the balls!” She couldn’t seem to control her words. It was possibly the most stupid thing she could’ve said, unless her intent was to provoke. Had this been what Anne had meant? To resist, to make the final taking of her that much sweeter? In which case…

“I wouldn’t dare?” and no longer was he attempting to hide the contempt in his tone. “You’ll be licking my balls before we’re done.”

She whimpered, her pussy clenching at his words. Why was she suddenly picturing herself on her knees before him? The mirror changed, drawing her gaze: Red, kneeling naked at his feet, her hands bound in front, lapping desperately and hungrily at his testicles, her eyes staring up at him in adoration. She shook her head, trying to push away the images.

He flicked the remote off and crossed to the table. She’d have felt relieved if she wasn’t anxious about what he might do next.

“You’re a rude, disrespectful and haughty girl, Red.” He’d picked up the riding crop again, examining it carefully with his back to her, but she could still see his profile reflected in the mirrors. “Do you know what happens to rude, disrespectful and haughty girls that don’t know their place?”

Red swallowed nervously. She wanted to apologize, to explain it wasn’t her doing, that Anne was making her say these things. But no words would come.

He turned to look at her, flexing the crop in his hands. “You’ve only got yourself to blame for this.”

“Only small men hit women.” Again the words slipped out; she might have been thinking it, but she most certainly never intended to say it.

His lips tightened. “You’re just begging for it, aren’t you?”

She watched him past the curve of her own arm, stretched taut and held immobile by the cuff on her headboard. Never in her life had she felt as vulnerable as she did now.

He took a threatening step forward, “And still you lie there, glaring at me.” Glaring? She wasn’t glaring! She… her eyes flicked to the mirror, her reflection showing her anger, her defiance. But she wasn’t angry or defiant, she was scared! Why was her reflection showing something different? Oh… oh no. The mirror was making her… and he was seeing it too. “You don’t learn, do you?”

He took a step closer, flexing the crop as he came. “You deserve this, Red. A little reminder of your place.” The expression on his face made her quail inside. He let the tip of the crop fall lightly against her raised ass.

“Please…” she’d found her words. One word, anyway.

“It’s too late for ‘please’, Red, but you’ll get your chance to beg.” His arm swung back and she desperately tried to tell him she was sorry, but again the words wouldn’t come. Then the crop landed, and she could only gasp with the sting. He hadn’t even hit her that hard.

“A shame to mar such a beautiful behind, but…” again the crop cracked down, and this time it was harder. Red tried to stifle her cry, but still it slipped out. “You know what they say. Spare the rod, spoil the… already-spoilt girl.” A third strike, this time hard across both cheeks. Once more Red cried out at the pain. She wanted to beg him to stop, but Anne’s words – or the mirror – were preventing her.

Anne was watching, she knew with sudden certainty. She was watching Alfie take out his frustrations on her ass, his pent-up fury at her rebuff when they’d first met, his anger at being provoked by her now. His misogyny, his insecurities – she’d goaded him in the worst of ways. The crop cracked down again and again, and each time Red jerked against her bonds, a cry pulled from her lips.

“It seems I was wrong. Your ass looks even better now.” And the vibe started up inside her again, rapidly accelerating. Not a low setting.

Again Red tried to beg, and again her words were refused her. The crop landed across her ass, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a combination that was overwhelming; she could only cry out, repeatedly, as he took out his ire on her vulnerable bottom. Never before had she been so mistreated; never before had she been so helpless.

A half-dozen more strokes, and he ramped the vibe up to the next level. She whimpered; her ass on fire, her sex throbbing, suffering and joy, anguish and rapture.

“Please…” she begged him, but it came out as little more than a whimper.

“You can beg better than that.” The crop came down again; he was panting with exertion now.

“I’m sorry, Alfie, please! I will behave, I promise!” she cried out. Thank god she could speak again.

The vibe slowed but did not still. He drew level with her head and dropped into a crouch so that he could look directly into her eyes. “I enjoyed that. Did you?”

No. “Yes.” Goddammit, mirror! She wanted to yell, to scream, but she couldn’t. And… well… maybe she had enjoyed it too, at some level. Her ass was in agony, yes, but… she’d deserved it. She looked up at him, towering over her. She’d insulted him, goaded him, sworn at him, and he’d asserted his male superiority over her. Her pussy throbbed again.

Wait… ‘male superiority’? The fuck? But even as she had the thought, she realized it was true. His dominance was exciting her, but moreover, he’d treated her exactly as he should’ve, given how she’d spoken to him. She blushed with shame, lowering her eyes.

“My, so demure. Have you so quickly learnt your lesson?”

Another memory came to her: “…but as time passes, you will grow more compliant, more responsive to their desires.”

No… no, surely not that. She still wanted to resist him, didn’t she? She wanted to hold on to that feeling of resistance. She would not give in to this small, misogynistic man. She wouldn’t become the willing, compliant slut she had been for Steven. For Anne. For the shopkeeper. Not for Alfie. Please, not for him.

But it seemed the mirror had other ideas. She heard herself reply. “Yes, Alfie, I’ve learnt my lesson. I deserved my punishment. I’m so very sorry.”

Red felt a wave of shame at who she had become. Yes, she had been compelled and controlled, but secretly, deep down, she had enjoyed every moment of it. She’d loved being a slut; a helpless, vulnerable, willing slut.

“…how sensual a creature you are…”

"The mirror shows only what is already inside you, is that not true?”

She could no longer tell what was forced and what came from her; what perhaps had always been inside her. Maybe the lines were too blurred, the overlap too great. Maybe she was still the innocent girl she’d always been, and she would never have done any of this if it wasn’t for the mirror’s corruption.

“I’m ready for you to show me how sorry you are. I will untie you. I think you’re ready to behave now, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t help but answer him. “Yes, Alfie, I will behave.”

He smirked. “Funny how a riding crop has that effect on a woman.”

His words drew her attention back to her ass, which burned and stung from the crop. She wondered how it looked… but she didn’t need to wonder. She glanced past him at the mirrors, her reflection bounced from the elevated mirror above her bed, clearly showing the redness of her ass with several stripes visible across both cheeks.

It seemed to suit the overall look: a girl held immobile, bound to her own bed with her ass raised invitingly, now adorned with the punishment Alfie had seen fit to mete out. She saw herself for what she really was: a slut, a sensual little slut, that had been disrespectful to a man. She’d deserved it.

No… no! That’s the mirror talking! Anne’s influence! But was it, though? Which part wasn’t true?

He pressed the remote and the vibe ceased its incessant buzzing. She sighed with relief.

“Where are the scissors?”

Red blinked, the question confusing her. “Scissors?”

“For the cable ties.”

“Oh. Can’t you just… snap them?”

He laughed scornfully. “You’re dumb, aren’t you? I can try. Which wrist don’t you mind being broken?”

“Um… I don’t know if I have any scissors.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know if you have scissors? Can the sheltered life of the very rich and extremely spoiled girl possibly be any more surreal?”

She knew he was taunting her, but again she couldn’t deny the validity of his words. A lot of Red’s life had come under the microscope in the preceding 48 hours, and she wasn’t sure she liked all that it showed.

“Maybe in the kitchen,” she muttered.

He went to look, his footsteps quickly muffled by the thick carpet, but was gone only a few brief moments.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this view,” she heard him say when he returned, and the words were punctuated by the audible click of his camera phone. Once, twice… many. “Little Jamie Sinclair, properly chastised.”

She closed her eyes as he captured, for posterity, her exposure and vulnerability, her reddened ass, decorated with the stripes of his own contribution. Steven. Anne. Alfie. It seemed everyone was an amateur photographer.

“Look at me, Red,” he raised the phone, ready to capture her expression as a counterpoint to the obscene exposure of her raised, welted ass. “And if you glare at me again, I’ll switch to the flogger.”

She turned her head, peering at him over her arm, held taut and immobile by her secured wrists. Please, mirror, please don’t provoke him anymore!

He sneered as he took his pictures. “So submissive now. That look suits you.”

“Did you… did you find scissors?”

“No scissors, a knife. Are you so keen to get your hands on me?”

“God, yes.” Red blinked. Where had that come from?

He seemed to pause with surprise, then his smile widened. He slipped the blade through each cable tie in turn, and her wrists were free.

It was a relief to ease the tension in her arms; she hadn’t realized how stiff they’d been until she moved them. At least now she was free, and all she had to do was somehow appease Alfie.

She should move. She tried to move. “…You are not to attempt to move from your current position until given permission to do so.”

He’d placed the knife out of the way on the small table and was watching her, curious, as though expecting that she’d have moved. Maybe he’d tell her to move if she waited.

“Don’t you want to get up?”

She winced. “I… I can’t move.”

“Sure you can.”

“No, I mean… you have to tell me to.” She blushed with embarrassment as she recognized how that sounded.

His grin was back, wider. “Learnt your place, have you?”

“No, I…”

“Ready to obey?”

“That’s not what I…”

“Be quiet.” His tone carried a commanding note she hadn’t heard from him before. She hushed, a shiver running through her.

“The longer you are with someone here, the greater will be your desire to please them, until there will be nothing you want more than their happiness, and nothing you won’t be willing to do to achieve it.”

Had she fallen silent because of Anne’s promise she’d eventually be willing to please, or because she didn’t want to give him an excuse to get the riding crop out again? Or nothing so Machiavellian - merely her submission and arousal warring within her. She felt trapped in her own body, deceived by her own emotions, no longer able to tell where she ended, and Anne’s Red began.

It would’ve been so much easier if she’d hated it all.

She felt his hand on her ass stroking gently across one cheek; his palm was a soothing presence, a sexual presumption, and a reminder of the soreness. Now even such a thing as a simple touch had layers; why couldn’t life be simple?

Yet she couldn’t help but admit there was a simplicity in submission, and the desire to please. It suited her, and she wasn’t even convinced that was the mirror’s influence, or Anne’s control.

“…how sensual a creature you are…”

Anne’s words came back to her again; an instruction or an observation?

His hand slid lower, three fingers rubbing against her exposed vulva. “Such a wet little slut. I really think you enjoyed your punishment! What a sensual creature you are.”

She jolted. Was his choice of words merely a coincidence? It was possible, though hard to believe. She said nothing: he’d told her to be quiet.

A finger slipped inside, another joined it. “Hmm, I think this is done. Shame, I was enjoying the power.” He hooked out the vibe from within her with one finger, as though penetrating the body of a girl he’d known for less than an hour was perfectly normal behaviour.

“And this too,” he was unhooking the spreader bar from her ankle cuffs. “It’s in my way. But if you don’t obey me, Red, you know what will happen.”

“I will obey,” the words slipped out without consciously passing through her brain. So, she’d reached that part: full compliance. She closed her eyes in resignation. And she knew what would happen, in part at least; the mirror had shown her, prepared her.

He’d removed the spreader bar now. She lay across the wedge pillow, her sore, reddened ass still lifted in offering, awaiting his commands. She felt her pulse accelerate in anticipation, her breaths becoming shorter, her arousal increasing. Just the thought of obeying him sent a shiver of pleasure through her core.

Was that her, or the subliminal compulsion Anne had installed? She didn’t know. She couldn’t tell. Perhaps it didn’t matter… so long as she was able to please him.

He was crossing to the small table. “Get on the floor, on your knees. I’m going to teach you your next lesson, Red.”

She moved quickly, kneeling beside the bed almost before he’d finished speaking, so desperate for him to find her pleasing. She kept her back straight, her posture perfect, her hands resting lightly on her thighs, making no attempt to cover her nudity. Her ass stung where it rested upon her heels, and she tried not to wince lest it displease him. But he wasn’t even watching, he was selecting a bundle of jute rope from the table of toys.

He turned to her then, the rope in his hands, and a hungry grin spread across his face. “Well, well. Looks like you are ready to behave.” He walked towards her. “Hands out, wrists together.”

She was eager to comply; her hands lifted as he’d asked. The look in his eyes made her sex clench, and she chewed her bottom lip nervously.

He slipped rope through the rings of each cuff, pulling her wrists together tightly then binding them with tight loops. He tied a knot when he was done; the end result was amateurish and inelegant, but she knew herself held securely.

He pulled off his suit jacket and threw it over the chair beside the small table. “What was it you said to me earlier?” He began to unbutton his shirt.

Red’s brow furrowed as she wondered which part he was referring to. She didn’t want to remind him that she’d called him an asshole, and it was a mercy that the mirror wasn’t making her. At least she’d got past the ‘resistance’ stage.

He unfastened his suit pants and pulled down the zipper, showing black boxers below. “After you’d said that I ‘wouldn’t dare’ fuck you.” He was reminding her.

Her eyes were watching his hands, and her tongue came out to moisten her lips. She squirmed uncomfortably, her ass sore against her heels. She didn’t want to risk upsetting him, but he had asked. “I… I said you didn’t have the balls…” her voice was small.

“And I said?”

“That… that you’d make me lick them.”

He toed off his dress shoes and stepped from them, closing the space between them. “You’re going to behave, aren’t you, Red?”

“Yes, Alfie,” she whispered, gazing up at him. Her sex clenched again, and her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to obey him so much.

He loomed over her, mere inches away, and it thrilled her to have to look up at him. It emphasized her submission, and she loved it. “I’m going to make you show me how sorry you are, or I’ll pin you down on that bed and use the flogger on you.”

“I’m so sorry, Alfie,” she felt tears in her eyes at the thought of all the ways she’d insulted him, and was desperate to make it up to him.

He pushed his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh, and his cock sprang free. “Show me. No hands, just your mouth, while on your knees. Learning your place.” Some part of Red found his tone to be petty and spiteful, far from the dominance that Steven had shown, but it didn’t matter because he’d given her an instruction, and her need to respond was everything.

“Yes, thank you, Alfie,” she breathed as she edged forward on her knees, grateful to have the chance to prove her remorse, eager to please.

He was semi-hard and his cock hung down, partially obscuring her goal. Denied the permission to use her hands, she lowered her face beneath his manhood and nudged it up with her nose, balancing it across her face, the tip wet with his pre-cum, smearing across her cheek. Her tongue reached out, eager to taste his skin, and she lapped at his testicles while she whimpered her pleasure.

“That’s it, Red,” he hissed, “I always knew you were such a submissive little slut.”

Red edged closer on her knees, the sting from her bottom reminding her of her earlier infractions, but adding complementary sensations to her intense arousal, stimulating her body. He was fully hard now, and his cock bounced against her face as she sought to lick all around his testicles.

“Never would I have thought to see prim and proper Jamie Sinclair naked on her knees before me, eagerly giving my balls a tongue-bath. You enjoying this, girl?”

Her licking paused only long enough for a murmured ‘Yes’, and she looked up at him with adoration as she continued to lick as best as she could.

“Are you getting off on it?” his tone held a note of surprise.

“Yes,” she blushed, but resumed her licking.

“Unbelievable,” and it was almost a mutter to himself. “You like being humiliated?”

Red hesitated; she wasn’t sure she did like being humiliated. Oh, it was often arousing, in a sexually degrading way… it made her feel submissive, which she liked. But humiliation itself? Yet she wanted to provide an answer that pleased him, and the thought of lying never occurred to her. “I like doing anything you tell me to.”

She was pleased with her answer and mmm’d against him as she licked his testicles more. His scrotum was slick with her saliva, and the feel of his balls moving under her tongue delighted her. She loved the hardness of his cock against her face, evidence of his pleasure in her.

“Such a slut,” he said, and his hands came down to slide into her hair. “Open up, slut.”

She opened willingly, eager to have him in her mouth, and moaned with pleasure as he pushed himself past her lips.

He wasn’t as large as Steven, she immediately thought, which was a blessing as his hips thrust forward and his hands pulled her into him by the convenient handle of her hair. She sucked and licked willingly, eager to please… even as her brow furrowed in confusion. Why was she so willing to suck him, to lick him, to serve?

“The longer you are with someone here, the greater will be your desire to please…” and yet she was questioning it. Questioning, yes… but as her tongue licked eagerly at him, she was still obeying his desires.

He thrust rapidly against her mouth, intent on his own pleasure, and Red felt her own arousal grow even deeper as he used her. Her nipples tightened almost painfully, longing for his touch; her sex ached to be filled by him. And all the while her mind fought to understand, to reassert itself. Did she want this? Was she really just a slut to be used as he wished?

He pulled out from between her lips and both gasped: him with his exertion, her for the air that had been denied.

In the mirror beside him, Red saw her reflection – nude, hands bound, mouth open – but it was her expression that captivated her: she saw lust in her own image, her face up-turned towards Alfie as though begging for more. Was it the mirror playing tricks again, or a true reflection of Red’s carnal desires? Oh, it was so difficult to know! Yet it felt so right to kneel naked before him, to crave his touch, his cock.

“Your mouth is unbelievable,” he muttered, as if half to himself, “so willing, so wet…”

His hand tightened in her hair and again he thrust past her lips, this time holding her face against his groin as he groaned with the pleasure of her mouth around him.

“God… I’ve got to fuck you,” he pushed her away. “Get on the bed.”

She was eager to obey; whether it was the mirror, Anne’s compulsion or her own desires, it mattered not: she was so painfully aroused she was desperate to do as he wished. At some level her mind argued that even the extent of her sexual excitement was a product of the compulsions upon her, and maybe that was true, but she could not deny that some of it came from her own desires, and to that her mind had no reply.

Her bound hands made the task of getting to the bed an ungainly one, and as she crawled awkwardly towards it on her knees, beside her Alfie was watching her even as he pulled off the remainder of his clothes.

“No, no, wait,” she paused, looking toward him. “I want you on top… yes… I want you to show me how eager you are, by fucking me yourself.” He stepped to the bed, pushing aside the pillow across which she’d been displayed, then lay down on the bed and looked back at her. “Yes… perfect… crawl up here while I watch you, Jamie Sinclair, eager to sit on my cock.”

Even through her arousal Red blushed at the humiliation he was enacting upon her. She continued her inelegant advance, the side of the bed offering some support as at last she reached it. If she was so eager to please him, she wondered, why did the humiliation matter? Yet this thought did nothing to stop her mounting the bed next to him, her eyes fixed on his naked form.

“That look in your eyes…” his voice held surprise, if not awe. “I would never have thought you would be so hungry…”

Red spared a glance towards a convenient mirror – she had so many to choose from. Her face showed her lust, her enthusiasm, her eagerness to please. This was what Alfie had seen; was it real, or an illusion from the mirror? Did it make a difference?

“Sit on me, slut. Impale yourself on me.”

She carefully balanced her weight beside him and swung her knee wide across his hips. It proved too difficult, and she toppled slightly, catching herself on him with her bound hands on his chest. There was no reaction; his eyes were between her spread legs, his hands raising to grasp her hips.

“Fuck that’s hot,” and again it was as if he wasn’t talking to her, as if she was merely an object in his fantasies. “Put me inside you. Use your hands. I want to watch you take me into your body.”

Red chewed on her lower lip as she took him in her bound hands, lifting her hips over him to position the tip of his hard cock against her sex, her folds spread open by the wideness of her knees astride him. Carefully she lowered, a whimper escaping her lips as she felt him push into her, penetrate her, and the pleasure of at last having him inside her made her shudder.

“Yes…” he moaned, “…all the way.”

She sat down on him slowly, his cock sliding deeper with every movement, until her ass came to rest on his groin, his manhood fully embedded within her. She gasped again from the contact of his hips against her sore bottom, but his eyes were so enraptured as he watched her display that perhaps he thought the noise she’d made was one of pleasure… which is not to say she wasn’t tingling all over from the intensity of the feeling. Was it the mirror making her react so, or her own desire? Still she didn’t know.

“God, you’re so tight with that plug inside you. It feels amazing. Fuck me now, fuck yourself on me. Show me how much you want me.”

Red began to move against him, whimpering with the feeling of him inside her juxtaposed with the burning sting against her raw, cropped ass every time she ground against him. She supported herself with her hands on his chest, trying to lift herself a little, to stop short, but he simply clenched tightly on her hips and drove up into her. Red gasped at the pain, but again his eyes simply fired with lust and he began to thrust harder, faster, pulling her down onto him as he did. She didn’t know if he was enjoying her discomfort or simply focused on his own needs – but it was not as if he was the only one taking pleasure. He didn’t stretch her as much as Steven had, didn’t fill her as satisfyingly, but the pleasure was still greater than anything she’d experienced before, and if the mirror was to blame for that… well… perhaps it wasn’t all bad.

“I fucking love this mirror above your bed.” His hips slapped into her repeatedly and he groaned beneath her. “And all the other ones,” he grunted. “Inspired.” His hands came up to her breasts, groping, squeezing, and his fingers found her nipples and twisted roughly. Red cried out, the discomfort feeding her submission, her arousal, and her pussy clenched involuntarily around him.

“Ahh, fuck!” he gasped, pushing his head back against the mattress, but his hands didn’t leave her breasts and again he twisted her aching nipples.

Red was whimpering now, feeling her orgasm beginning to build, pain and pleasure stimulating her from too many sources, blending together in a world of sensation. She desperately wanted to please him, to bring him pleasure, and that was the overriding desire as she moved in sync with him, grinding down against him.

“Oh god… slow down…” he gasped, his eyes rolling up in his head, “I’m going to…”

Quickly she stopped, clenching around him, trying to stop his orgasm from coming too soon – it was too quick, dammit! The least he could do after all this…

“Ahh!” he cried as his cock twitch inside her, and she felt his seed spurting into her. “Ahh!” again, almost a high-pitched squeak, and his body shuddered beneath her.

Red felt a moment of dismay, disappointed that… and her orgasm tore through her, her body clenching almost painfully tight as her world exploded in pleasure. She cried out as she came, an exultant, involuntary exclamation, her eyes screwed shut against the waves of her climax crashing over her again and again, each larger and more intense than the last.

Unable to hold herself up she fell forward onto his chest, her body still shuddering in after-tremors, each almost as fulfilling as orgasms she’d experienced before. He softened and slipped from inside her and she almost didn’t notice, lost in the depths of the ecstasy she’d experienced.

“Well there’s no need to ask if you came,” he muttered dryly, making no attempt to hide his envy.

It took her some moments to catch her breath, her limbs shaky and her body trembling slightly. It had been so unbelievably intense that her first thought was: What the fuck was that? Alfie just wasn’t… to be fair… that good a lay.

“When they are satisfied, your reward will be great.” The memory came back to her in that instant, as had the other memories when triggered by circumstance, and Red smiled.

“This was supposed to be about my pleasure,” he said petulantly, pushing her off him to fall to the bed beside. “I can’t believe you came that hard. You really are a slut, Red.”

His eyes glinted in the light, and his hand shot quickly to her hair, his fist closing tightly and painfully in her maroon locks. “Sluts like you must just love cum,” he pulled her head forward and down, and Red had no choice but to follow, whimpering from the pain in her scalp. He positioned her head over his groin. “Lick me clean, slut. Get all of it.”

His cock was coated in the combined juices of their fucking, and he pushed her face down onto it. But Red was already closing her eyes, her mouth opening, her tongue eagerly coming out, smelling the heady scent of his cum, and desperate to taste. She licked him rapidly, hungry to find every drop of his essence, shivering with pleasure as again she was able to taste a man’s cum, an addiction that had overwhelmed her since the shopkeeper in the dressing room. She no longer questioned that before she hadn’t wanted it anywhere near her mouth; now it was as necessary as breath and life.

She moaned over him as her tongue cleaned him, even taking his soft cock into her mouth to squeeze the last drops from him with her lips, then licking like a thirsty kitten all around to ensure none had been missed.

“You’re absolutely fucking incredible,” he said, his tone half in awe and half-scathing. “I don’t know whether to be disgusted or impressed.” He pulled her head from him by her hair, once more pushing her away. “Everything I do to humiliate you and you just lap it up and beg for more.”

Alfie shook his head. “Dammit, I meant to make you beg to cum.” He glowered at her. “This was supposed to be a punishment…” and once more it was a mutter almost to himself. His eyes ran over her, taking in her just-fucked nakedness with a look of wonder, but his gaze stopped as it came to rest between her legs. His expression turned spiteful, “If you like my cum so much, why don’t you feed it to yourself?”

Red couldn’t believe she’d forgotten the cum still inside her, and her hands dipped between her legs eagerly. She lifted slick fingers to her lips, licking and sucking them clean with a satisfied mmm and went back for more.

Alfie watched for a moment in amazement, then shook his head and pushed himself up and off the bed. He got dressed slowly, watching as Red continued to clean herself, checking that she had found every remnant that he had deposited within her.

“There’s a knife on the table. I’m guessing you can free yourself.” He shrugged on his suit jacket. “I’d threaten you with the pictures I have of you, but something tells me you’ll just be gagging for me to come back.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. “Put your number in this.”

Red took the phone, her fingers still sticky from their combined juices, and entered her number in. It didn’t even occur to her to enter a false number until after she’d handed it back – the compulsion was clearly still in effect.

“I’ll be back, Red, you can count on it.” He glanced down at the phone and pressed a button. “Now I know what a slut you are…” Somewhere in the apartment Red’s phone began to buzz, loud enough to be heard even with the ringtone off. Alfie pressed his phone again and the buzzing stopped. That could’ve been awkward, Red thought, relieved she hadn’t tried to trick him.

He seemed to freeze for a moment, then one eyebrow raised as he glanced from the dead Nokia on the table then towards the sound where the vibration had been heard. Then he shrugged. “Weird.”

Alfie ran his eyes over her nakedness and shook his head in admiration. “You are odd, Jamie Sinclair. But I’ll definitely be back.” He turned and walked from the apartment, and Red heard the door close behind him with a click of the latch engaging.

She fell back onto the bed, her gaze drawn to the mirror above her, the image of a nude, bound but happy girl shown beneath. Her ass hurt, and some of the things she’d done would make her quail when she considered them later… but she couldn’t deny that she was satisfied, fulfilled and replete.

She watched herself a while, her breath gradually steadying, her pulse slowing. The mirrors certainly added to the intensity of the sex, the many angles from which…

Her eyes widened. Anne. She’d been watching all of this.

Red pushed herself up, wriggling with bound hands to the edge of the bed and standing slowly on shaky legs. She could see the knife on the table. It took some moments to figure out how to hold it to apply enough pressure to cut without risking injuring herself, but the rope parted eventually, and her wrists came free. There was no key for the cuffs, but she found it out on the coffee table and removed them too.

She was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of exhaustion. What time was it even? She glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was only just past nine. It felt so much later… but it had been a hell of a day. She collected her kimono from the floor back in her bedroom and pulled it on, watching herself in the mirrors.

Those mirrors. Those damn mirrors. Turning, she made her way to the kitchen, her jaw set firmly. Something heavy, something strong. She looked through the drawers, not even sure what she had. A rolling pin. Perfect. It wasn’t like there was a risk of getting glass shards in her dough – she didn’t know how to make dough.

She walked back into the bedroom, the rolling pin held in both hands. Her image bounced around the room; the beautiful silk kimono, her long, tousled, maroon hair, the rolling pin in her hands. Why was she holding a rolling pin? That was weird. She put it down on the table, frowned at it in confusion, then shrugged dismissively.

What was she doing? She couldn’t remember. So tired. And hungry too. She needed to find some food and then get some rest. Tomorrow would be better.

She looked at the bed, stripped of the duvet and pillows, the sheets showing damp spots here and there. Maybe she’d sleep on the sofa, away from all the mirrors, away from Anne’s watchful gaze. There was no way she was going to sleep in her bedroom, knowing that Anne might be watching. The thought sent a shiver down her back… and then all the mirrors showed her slumbering, peacefully, nude beneath the sheet half-covering her as she wrapped herself in the comforting scent of sex, and a sense of calm descended. She was being silly; surely there was nowhere better to sleep. It was such a relaxing, sensuous room, especially with all the mirrors. Why had she even thought of sleeping elsewhere?

She turned away, aware of how hungry she was. She had nothing in her fridge; she existed solely on takeout. But the thought of another delivery man coming was… she smiled mischievously.

It took her some time to find her phone.

“Up Thai? Yes… delivery please,” she paused, “Yes, that’s the address. Er... Massaman curry, white rice… tom kha soup…” damn, she was hungry. “Er… duck pancakes. Yes. Hm? Oh, beef.”

She ended the call; thirty minutes to wait.

She’d eat and go to bed, and tomorrow… Would Anne return tomorrow? It seemed likely, and her brow furrowed. Could this keep happening? How could she stop it?

Red thought hard, chewing her lip, then dialed another number.

“Daddy?” with a start she looked about herself, seeing the mirrors in her apartment. The ones in the bedroom, another above the mantel. One mounted on the dividing wall. She walked into the kitchen… she could still see the one above the mantel, but the angle was quite acute. She took another step. Better.

“Sorry, yes… It was fine, thanks… Daddy, listen. Something has happened.” She lowered her voice. “Do you still have that PI on payroll? What’s his name… Turner?”

She glanced again towards the mirrors while he talked, reassuring herself she was out of sight. “Trent, yeah. And everything is… well no, it’s not fine actually. I think I’m… er…” she spoke even more softly, not sure if the mirrors could pick up sound. It seemed unlikely, but who knew. “…Being blackmailed.”

Red closed her eyes as her father vented for a while. “Daddy…” she cut him off. “You don’t need to leave Malibu, and there’s nothing to go to the police with. I don’t need your help. I just want Trent to do something. I know I can trust him.” Okay, she couldn’t remember his name, but she didn’t generally pay much attention to the names of employees. She did remember him though – solid, dependable. He was essential to her plan.

She outlined her intent down the phone, her voice as quiet as she could keep it, and emphasized the urgency. She knew – somehow, she knew – Anne would be back tomorrow. It didn’t take long for her father to agree.

Eventually she ended the call, setting the phone down on the work surface and walking thoughtfully back into the living room. It wasn’t much of a plan, truth be told, but… she had to start somewhere.

The problem was that it depended on Anne visiting again. She knew she would – that wasn’t what bothered her – it was what would happen when she did that made Red squirm.

The phone in her apartment rang; she picked up. “Yes? Oh… that was quick. Yes, he’s expected, send him up.”

Her food was here; she’d eat and go to bed. Tomorrow would see how her plan fared.

But, for now… her fingers slipped down to the sash of her kimono, tugging it open a bit… glancing into a mirror… and a bit more. Oh, deliveries were always such fun.

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

Chapter 5 – Debts Paid

Red slept surprisingly well. She awoke refreshed, her apartment slowly filling with morning light, and stretched languorously as she enjoyed the feel of the silken sheet against her bare skin.

The mirror above her large bed immediately caught her gaze, the memories of the day before crashing in: all the things she’d done or been made to do; exposing herself to all the men who had visited, being touched by Anne, bound and left for Alfie to use as he wished.

A kaleidoscope of memories, nearly all of which were carnal in nature. And the pleasure she’d felt! As she thought back over what had happened, one hand trailed lightly across her breast while the other slipped between her thighs. She knew she was being controlled by Anne and the mirrors, knew that much of what had happened would never have occurred if she’d been free to make her own decisions.

Yet as her fingers played across her body, she could find nothing wrong with what had transpired. Was that, too, the effect of the mirrors, or merely her own sexual awakening? What harm had been done? Yes, her ass was still quite sore – a delightful tingle that added spice to the arousal her fingers were building – but she remembered vividly the heights of pleasure she’d experienced. Alfie, too, had taken his share, and had not seemed disappointed when he’d left.

She spread her legs wider, arching her back as her fingers teased her nipple, remembering the look on the men’s faces as they’d gazed at her near-nudity. How exciting it had been! Twirling, her kimono gaping, before the UPS man, as his eyes roamed over her. She’d known he wanted to touch her. They’d all wanted to touch her, but only he had. All those other men in her apartment… her imagination explored ideas of what they might have done to her, and she moaned her arousal in the quiet of her room.

Her fingers played against her sex, rubbing, teasing, flicking over her clit. She remembered Alfie’s hands on her breasts, cruelly twisting and pulling her nipples, and her own fingers pinched her nipple as she moaned again. She remembered his delight at the mirrors in her room and opened her eyes, looking up at her own reflection. The sheet obscured her nudity, and it had no place. She kicked it off, naked now to her own gaze, knowing in that moment that there was a chance Anne was watching, possibly looking on as Red leisurely pushed a finger inside herself then slid it up over her clit.

It was difficult to keep her eyes open as her arousal built, but she imagined the foreman who had come with his men standing before her, his easy grin and confident manner compelling her to hold his gaze. How much had he seen as she’d knelt on the floor, the kimono covering little with her knees spread wide? Oh, how she’d longed to crawl to him and beg to please him with her mouth, how she longed now for the taste of more cum. How it filled her mouth with its addictive, salty creaminess, how she’d eagerly licked Alfie clean when he’d told her to.

On impulse she raised her slick fingers to her mouth, tasting herself. She would never have considered doing such a thing before her sexual awakening, but now it felt so right. She sucked her fingers clean as she remembered the taste of Alfie, of Steven, even of the shopkeeper who had inadvertently been the first. She knew her desperate addiction to the taste of a man’s cum was something the mirror had given to her, but she found it so satisfying, so fulfilling, that she could only see it as a gift. It gave her such energy, too; it seemed to rejuvenate her.

Red brought her hand back between her legs and moaned softly, her eyes closing as she lost herself in the pleasures of her touch and the memories of the day before. She was, after, all, such a sensual creature…

It was shortly after nine by the time Red finished her shower. The water had initially stung then soothed her poor abused bottom. She’d stood under the spray for a long while, soaping up her body, washing her hair. She’d even shaved again, even though it had hardly been necessary; she simply loved the smoothness of her skin – just as the mirror had shown her. She’d dried herself unhurriedly, enjoying each sensation: the feeling of the soft towel on her skin or the warm air from her hair dryer. She didn’t even like drying her hair, yet this morning her body felt more awake, more sensitive, and every touch was more sensuous.

She walked nude from the ensuite and back into her bedroom. Ahead of her lay her bed, the sheets still crumpled from where she’d lain within them, from where Alfie had taken her. Her kimono lay draped over the chair beside the small table, set towards, but some way back, from the foot of her bed. She was about to collect it, to put it on, but her eye caught her reflection in the mirrors about her. Two large mirrors covering the entirety of her wall this side of the bed, two opposite on the far side of her bed, angled to reflect across the room. And beneath each of them another mirror, angled such that she could see into the one directly above her bed whenever she lay down.

She stopped in the space between her bed and the ensuite, the mirrors nearest framing her perfectly. She spread her legs slightly and lifted her arms loosely about her head, watching herself in her reflection as she swayed gently, as though dancing to music only she could hear. Her eyes moved down across her body: her breasts, topped by firm, pink nipples; the smooth softness of her belly; the triangle of her womanhood and the smooth folds at the juncture of her thighs.

She looked good, she knew. Let Anne watch, if she wants to watch. After the past two days, Red found she liked to be watched. She remembered the eyes of the UPS man on her, and the thrill it had given her.

It was tempting to stay nude, but Red collected her kimono and slipped it on with a wistful smile, tying the sash about her waist. Sometimes it was better to be teasingly revealing than fully nude, and she remembered the expression of the delivery man who had brought her food the night before. Oh, that had been fun. No deliveries due today – more was the pity – but the silk against her skin was another pleasure to be enjoyed.

She made her way to the kitchen. It was all-but empty – perhaps a delivery could be arranged after all – and though there was no breakfast, she could at least make some coffee.

A knock sounded at her door.

She turned, startled; usually the concierge would call to announce a guest, seeking permission before they were even sent up. Perhaps it was her father? No, he was still in Malibu – he couldn’t have made it back so fast, even if he had ignored her wishes and come anyway. She crossed the apartment and opened the door.

“Good morning, Red.” Anne stood at the threshold, and she was not alone. Slightly behind her stood an imposing man well over six foot tall and broad in arm and shoulder. He was perhaps a little older than Red and was striking rather than handsome; his hair was dark and long, his eyes a piercing dark blue above a strong nose and chin, and he emanated a presence that drew Red’s eyes. “Do invite us in.”

“Please come in,” Red replied, stepping back nervously, opening the door as she did so. She’d expected Anne to arrive at some point, but so soon? And with a man such as this? Her confidence of a moment prior had evaporated.

Anne walked past her into the apartment, but it was the man who commanded Red’s attention.

“Delightful to see you wearing your kimono again, my dear.” Red pulled her eyes from the man with an effort, closing the door behind them both. “And I don’t need to ask if you enjoyed your evening. It was quite the spectacle.”

Red took a steadying breath and turned to face Anne. “I know what you’re doing to me. I remember everything. I know… what you’ve done…” she trailed off, the declaration lacking the defiance she’d been trying to project.

“Oh, good!” Anne seemed genuinely pleased. “I do so hate it when girls stay oblivious. It rather spoils the fun. But you always were a perceptive one, weren’t you dear?”

The man had stopped quite close to Red and was watching her with unbridled curiosity.

“Do excuse me. Introductions. This is… well, you can call him Damian.”

The man took a graceful step forward, taking Red’s hand in his before she could react. He bowed over it, brushing his lips across her knuckles, though his eyes never left hers and his smile was playful. “Names are such transient things,” he said, his breath warm on her hand, and his voice was as deep as Red had ever heard. She felt a shiver run across her skin. He straightened slowly, holding her hand as he did so, only releasing it after a long moment.

Anne watched, amusement on her face. “And this is Red. Though she seems to have momentarily lost her voice.”

“Such a delightful robe,” Damian murmured, and his voice seemed to reverberate around the apartment.

“Isn’t it though?” Anne added, “It’s all she seems to wear these days.”

Red glanced at her in alarm. Had that been a pithy off-hand comment or an instruction? Would she suddenly find herself unable to get dressed in anything else?

Anne leant back against Red’s sofa, seemingly content to watch. “Would you like to display it for us, dear?”

Red chewed her bottom lip nervously. That hadn’t sounded like an instruction either, yet part of her wished to model for this man. She wasn’t sure what to do; Anne hadn’t explicitly instructed her to bend over, as she had the day before. She took a hesitant step and then another, moving away from the man Anne had called Damian, conscious of his eyes upon her.

“It’s a little tight on her,” came the man’s voice behind her, and Red blushed at his words.

“Oh, it loosens up surprisingly quickly,” Anne replied. Her lips quirked, “As does Red, for that matter.”

Red felt her blush deepen and her steps falter. As usual with the arrival of Anne, things had rapidly slipped out of control; they’d been in her apartment a scarce minute, and already Red felt unnerved in her own home.

Anne pushed herself off from the sofa, taking a step toward her. “Stand still a moment,” and Red could only watch, unable to move, as Anne slipped her fingers inside the kimono’s sash and gave it a small tug, slackening it. Red felt the silk slip immediately, the overlapping material sliding open, revealing far more skin than it had before.

“What if I don’t want to model for this man?” Red whispered to Anne, her voice kept low. She wondered why she was trusting Anne with such a question, for surely that was foolish; she knew now that Anne was not her friend. And yet, despite that, whenever she was near, she felt a need to trust her. She couldn’t help herself. Damn Anne’s magic!

Behind her Damian chuckled lightly; clearly, he had heard Red’s entreaty.

Anne smiled, also amused. “Look at him, dear.”

Red reluctantly turned her gaze to Damian, looking at him over her shoulder, seeing again his distinctive features, the flawlessness of his skin, the confidence of his demeanor, and felt herself irresistibly drawn to him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to model for him? Tell me.”

Anne’s imperative forced an unwilling reply from Red, as it had every time – though, at least, Red was now able to recognize when Anne was controlling her. Yet Anne wasn’t forcing her to do anything – not exactly – aside from driving an answer from her. Oh, why couldn’t she but lie? Or merely dissemble? But Anne’s magic allowed for no such deception.

“I do,” she heard herself say, and she knew it was true. She chewed her lip nervously. There was something undeniably appealing about the man Anne had called Damian, and the thought of his eyes on her as she modelled for him excited her and made her stomach squirm. It could’ve been her reaction, it could’ve been Anne’s influence, it could’ve been the man himself… Red only knew how she felt, and that there was little point questioning it anymore.

“Well then. A lot of fuss about nothing.” Anne stepped back to the sofa, leaning against it casually as she watched.

Red kept her back to Damian. It was not merely that Anne had opened her robe further, making it almost an invitation, but that his very presence made her nervous. There was something about him that made her skin tingle. He was attractive, though it was more the force of his persona that made him so rather than a classical handsomeness. He had charisma, Red thought, but not in the way of merely being smooth. More in the way of emanating a presence. He could probably walk into any room, and everyone would immediately know he was there.

So why was he here?

“Come now, dear, we’re both waiting.” Red really wished Anne would stop calling her ‘dear’. She knew it was simply Anne’s way of speaking, but it was beginning to aggravate Red the way Anne would casually use it and then, when she wished to, give it just that extra little edge. An emphasis. As though she was chiding, as though Red was her possession. She didn’t want to be Anne’s possession any longer.

Red took a steadying breath, her chin coming up slightly. She suddenly felt rebellious; they’d invited themselves into her apartment and now expected Red to perform? It was an imitation of what Anne had made her do for the UPS man, and Red wasn’t having it this time. It was time to make a stand.

Her hands fell to the sash about her waist, beginning to tighten it, to reverse the changes Anne had made and close her kimono. To her surprise her fingers obeyed, but Anne hadn’t told her not to, not on this visit.

“Tut tut. That’s hardly the right attitude,” Anne’s tone seemed piqued, and her lips pursed as Red continued to re-close her robe. “Oh do stop, dear.”

Red’s hands stilled against the material, and she could not make her fingers move again. She closed her eyes in resignation. How could she resist when Anne could compel her so?

“You’ve just told us both that you want this. Stop fighting it, it’s so tiresome. Now, make your kimono presentable, in the way I know you want to.”

Red’s brow furrowed as her hands began to move again. Hadn’t Anne just given her permission to cover herself? She thought on Anne’s words, seeing no trick: ‘in the way I know you want to’. She wanted to cover herself. Had Anne made a mistake? And yet, to her dismay, her hands weren’t closing the robes, but parting them. Why?! She’d wanted to resist! Hadn’t she? Didn’t she?

Anne smiled, watching. “I thought as much. Such a sensual creature you are.”

Red’s eyes closed in despair as her hands continued to pull apart the robe, loosen the sash and reveal more of her body. She wasn’t even in her bedroom, and she was still being a ‘sensual creature’. It seemed she needed to fight her own body, too – or the hidden subconscious of her mind. But whichever it was, one of them wished to reveal more of herself to the man who patiently waited behind her. Just like I did for the delivery man last night.

"The mirror shows only what is already inside you, is that not true?" She remembered Anne’s words from the day before, and though this wasn’t the mirror, per se, she saw the truth in what Anne had said: at some level this was who Red was, and though she may deny it to herself, it didn’t change the truth. Evidently the mirror – and Anne’s compulsion – could see through Red’s attempts to deceive herself.

Yet her all-too brief flare of rebellion hadn’t been a denial of her desire to model for Damian, it had been a resistance to Anne. A foolish, pointless resistance, as it turned out. No, she still wanted to show herself to the alluring man Anne had brought into her apartment, and now the phrasing of Anne’s command had caused even more damage to her modesty.

The kimono was open even more than Anne had adjusted it: Red’s own fingers had pulled back the material until the sides of her breasts were showing, her nipples barely covered, and while the folds overlapped briefly beneath the sash, below they gaped again, and Red wondered if her mons could now be glimpsed. What had her fingers done? Only what you wished them to, she answered herself.

“I think that should do the trick.” Anne smiled in amusement from where she watched. “Now, as you clearly need a firm hand, listen closely. Raise your arms gently and loosely about your head, then turn around very slowly. You won’t need to lower your arms.” Red’s hands were already rising, the kimono lifting as they did, but Anne wasn’t finished. “Present yourself to your guest in a way that makes clear your desires.”

“No…” whispered Red in horror, even as her hands continued to raise.

“I’m helping you, dear. Can’t you see? What you want, and what you tell yourself you want, are clearly two different things. You’re lying to yourself, while I’m showing you the truth.”

Red had no comeback to that and meanwhile her hands were now draped loosely about her head, her fingers brushing over her hair. She knew that the robe would now barely cover the bottom of her ass, if at all, while at the front where her fingers had made that gap… she dared not consider.

“Why don’t you just make me strip?” Red asked sullenly; it seemed she still had control of her voice, at least – for all the good that did.

“Oh no, dear. The presentation of the gift is as important as the gift itself.”

So that’s what I am, Red thought as she began to turn. She knew that the kimono now revealed almost as much as it concealed, her gradual turn only serving to make her display more tantalizing for Damian. Each move she made merely unveiled more of her to his eyes.

Her nipples were hard, jutting against the silk of her kimono, and in a moment he would see. She was aroused despite herself, and in a moment he would know. She felt a blush tinge her cheeks and her eyes lowered; she could not bear the shame as she continued to rotate. It was as if she was offering herself to him and she knew that, in essence, she was.

She turned more, now in profile to where Damian was standing, and she knew he would easily be able to see one bare breast, the silk gaping over it with her arms raised so, the nipple standing proud for his eyes to witness. She turned further, chewing her lip nervously, and now he would be able to see the tops of her thighs. Was her mound covered, or was she offering him a delicate glimpse of her cleft?

“Your ass seems a little… red, Red,” Anne noted from behind her.

“Mmm, I observed that,” Damian added, amusement in his tone. “She’s already been used, this one.”

Red closed her eyes in shame: the first time Damian had spoken save for his greeting, and he draws attention to the marks on her ass. How could she have forgotten the stripes Alfie had left? Of course they hadn’t faded. And more, the kimono had obviously lifted far enough for them to show, which meant it was even higher than she thought.

“Will that stop your enjoyment of her?” Anne asked, and Red thought she heard a note of concern in her tone.

“I think not,” he answered thoughtfully. “Perhaps it would have with another,” he continued, his deep voice seeming to caress Red’s skin, “but this one still carries a sense of innocence that will be fun to… despoil.”

“Good,” Anne seemed relieved.

Red faced him fully now, though she had not looked upon him and her eyes were downcast. She tried to lower her arms, to allow the kimono to fall, but she could not; clearly Anne’s command was still in effect. Then her chin came up of her own volition, her eyes lifted to meet Damian’s, her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips and her back arched subtly. What was she doing? She was offering herself so wantonly! She was making it worse! Her back arched more, lifting her breasts towards him as her feet moved slightly apart, as if to better display herself to his gaze.

“Do you see what I mean?” Damian asked, and his question was clearly posed to Anne, though his gaze held Red’s. “I’ve seen girls throw themselves at my feet or tear their clothes off themselves. You tell her to present herself, and all this one does is arch her back.” He chuckled at his own words, then slowly approached Red.

“You lick your lips, girl. Is it a kiss you seek?”

Red watched him come closer, and the breath caught in her throat. She could only nod slightly, unable to trust her voice. Oh, but she did want him to kiss her. Just a simple kiss. What could be the harm in that?

He was so much larger than her, his size imposing. As he stepped into her, closing the gap, she had to lift her chin to keep her eyes on his. She felt one arm slide around her waist, and she was tugged firmly against his chest, even as his lips came down to meet hers.

His kiss was unlike any she’d had before; his mouth ruled her, dominated her, and his tongue pushed insistently between her lips, seeking hers. Yet it was a controlled kiss, not with the uncouth invasion she might have expected from someone such as Alfie (who, she remembered, hadn’t actually kissed her), but more like the confidence that Steven showed – and yet it was so much more. It was passion, it was refinement, it was a kiss that sent tremors through her whole body and left her breathless. It was a kiss to lose oneself in, and as he finally broke away, she realized, for a moment, that she had.

She was unsteady on her feet, and only his arm around her supported her. Then, as she caught her balance, he withdrew that too and took a small step back.

Red was suddenly aware her kimono was fully open. At some point during the kiss his fingers had slipped into the sash and pulled it free, and she hadn’t even noticed. It slipped to either side of her, and her body was bare to his eyes.

Anne softly cleared her throat behind Red. “I think we should take this to Red's bedroom.”

Red looked at her in alarm, “No, please, it makes me...”

“Yes?” Anne looked at her expectantly.

“...want to do things.” Red finished, her voice small.

“Of course it does, dear. But don't you want to do them anyway?”

“No, I…”

“Don’t lie, girl. Tell us both what you actually desire.” Anne’s voice held the tone that Red now knew well, and recognised the compulsion Anne was using. Yet she was still unable to resist.

“Yes! Yes, I do want to do those things!” Red moaned in shame, covering her face with her hands.

“It’s so amusing how reserved and reticent humans have become,” Damian murmured. “Such a conflict within each of them, as their nature fights against the oppression of societal expectation. I really quite like it.”

“Not in all of them,” Anne contended. “Some are loud in their denials of their own needs – and even more vocal when decrying the needs of others.”

“Ah,” Damian replied, “but it is those that I like the best. They have further to fall.”

“True,” Anne conceded, “but their whining aggravates me.”

Damian chuckled his deep laugh. “Touché.”

Red had not followed the exchange well, momentarily lost in the depth of her own emotional response. She lifted her eyes to Anne, seeking guidance.

“Walk into the bedroom, dear.”

Red turned and made her way to the bedroom, seeing herself near-nude in the mirrors as she approached. As she stepped through the archway her hands pulled the kimono instinctively closed about herself, and her chin came up again. Enough was enough: she would resist; she was not their toy to play with.

She was aware of Anne and Damian entering behind her. Anne moved to one side, seating herself in the chair beside the small table, but it was Damian’s reflection that captured her gaze, and she gasped in shock.

The mirror showed a different Damian to the one she had yet seen: his features were the same, his size, his general demeanor, but in the mirror he had horns. Two long, sharply-pointed protuberances came up from the front of his head, curving slightly and spiraling upwards like a markhor goat. Quickly she glanced in another mirror, thinking it somehow a trick of the light, but this showed the same – and moreover she caught a glimpse of his long, thick tail swaying gently behind him.

She turned to face him, backing away slowly, pulling the robe about her with both fists. In her direct gaze, without the benefit of a reflection, he looked now as he had before, only with a slightly puzzled expression as he watched her. Red glanced at the mirror that was angled to show his back and side, and again his horns and tail were obvious.

“What are you?”

Damian stopped and turned to Anne in surprise. “Can she see me?”

Anne frowned. “The mirror must be showing her.”

“Hmph,” he grunted. “I’ve not known it do that before.”

“No…” Anne sounded thoughtful. “But I assume it makes no difference?”

“I suppose not,” Damian said as he turned his gaze back to Red. “Come, girl, remove your robe now.”

“Fuck off and die, you’re not touching me,” Red spat at him, clutching her robe tighter around him as she edged backwards.

Damian looked taken aback by her sudden venom, “Why so reluctant all of a sudden? You were eager enough a moment ago.”

“Oh, that’s my doing,” Anne said from where she sat on Red’s bedroom chair. “I added in a little… spice to the initial bedroom encounter. I thought you would enjoy it.”

His gaze turned back to Red. “So this… is a game?”

“Precisely that,” Anne replied, while Red shook her head.

He smiled slowly and took a step closer to Red. “Do you want to play, girl?”

“No. I do not want to play. I want you to leave. Both of you to leave.”

Again Damian stopped, turning to Anne. “This isn’t my style, witch. I’m of Asmodeus’ line, not Azazel or Belial. Lust, yes, but not force or coercion.” Red’s eyes widened at his words but was even more surprised at his tone: it lacked the casual indifference he usually used and carried far more bite. She didn’t envy Anne in that moment.

Anne sighed in frustration. “Red, for today only you will ignore all compulsions associated with this room, and respond only as you naturally desire.”

Red straightened slowly, feeling her racing pulse settle, but she still held her robe closed protectively around her nakedness. “What are you?” she asked again.

“I’m a demon, girl, in human form. But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

Red nodded, her eyes wide. “The mirror showed me… and then the things you said.” She chewed her lip nervously. “What does ‘of Asmodeus’ line’ mean?”

He smiled slowly, “It means I am born of temptation and seduction.”

Well that made sense. But surely, he was speaking figuratively… could he really be a demon? It was too impossible to accept. “And Azazel? Beli…”

“Belial.” He shrugged, “They are known for deception, torment, malevolence and destruction. For forcing themselves upon others,” his tone carried distaste. “I was merely making a point to the witch.”

Red looked over at Anne. “Why does he call you a ‘witch’? What are you?”

Anne pursed her lips. “Let’s not get distracted, dear.”

“Answer her,” Damian didn’t take his gaze from Red, but his comment was clearly for Anne.

Anne glanced at Damian before looking back at Red, her smile strained. “As human as you are, dear. Perhaps a little older.”

Damian chuckled, “An understatement.”

Anne shifted impatiently. “Can we get back to the business at hand?”

Damian smiled at Red, a charismatic, infectious smile that ameliorated the words that followed. “By that she means she wants us to fuck.”

“I know,” Red said, trying to ignore Anne as she focused on the demon before her. She still held the robe tightly around her. She was confused, discombobulated. The mood they’d briefly shared had been lost, and now she was simply expected to lie down and spread her legs? And Damian himself… she wouldn’t have been averse, under normal circumstances, but with Anne here? She swallowed nervously, her eyes drawn to him despite herself.

He took a small step closer, “Have you ever had an audience before?”

Red kept her eyes on his face, trying to ignore Anne. Was he really a demon? He seemed so… amiable. Kind, even. Seductive, almost… no, not almost. His allure was irresistible, captivating… what was it about him? It was more than his persona – a finely-crafted blend of confidence, appeal and sensuality that drew her in with an almost hypnotic charm – every gesture, every word, every glance seemed calculated to tantalize her senses and awaken her desires.

He had a self-assured grace and was clearly aware of the effect he had. He commanded her attention rather than demanded it; she was drawn willingly, entranced. There was undoubtedly a seductive appeal about him, igniting a desire within her to be held in his arms, where his essence could intimately caress her.

She shook her head, trying to dispel his effect on her. ‘His essence could intimately caress her’? What on earth was she thinking! But then… he wasn’t from earth, was he? Temptation and seduction indeed, and, incredibly, she found herself believing he could even be a demon. After all, the mirror had shown her, and she’d never known it lie.

She realized he’d asked her a question and she’d been so distracted by his very presence that she’d forgotten to answer. His eyes were on her, amused, as if he knew the effect he was having on her - but of course he did. She felt her cheeks heat as she struggled to remember what he’d asked.

“No I haven’t,” she said, her voice barely above a murmur. “Well… not directly.”

“Not directly…?” he took another step, and now he was almost in touching range.

“I know Anne watches,” Red whispered, her eyes held helplessly by his.

“Mmm,” and it was so deep it was almost a purr, yet conveyed amusement too. “She likes to watch.” It was a reminder that Anne was there, though Red cared not; Damian had her in his spell, and nothing else mattered. She didn’t even spare Anne a glance; her eyes never left his. Another step toward her and his hand slowly came up, his palm gently cupping her cheek.

His hand was large but soft, firm and warm against her face. It felt comforting yet possessive, and she chewed on her lip nervously even as she pushed instinctively into his touch.

“Are you afraid of me?” His voice was so deep yet so mellow, and it rolled over her like a warm caress.

“Yes,” she admitted on a breath. There was something about his power over her that was scary, as if she was at risk of losing herself in him.

“That is wise,” he replied, and stooped to lower his mouth to hers. Red lost herself in his kiss as she had earlier when he had kissed her in the living room. At first it was the feel of his lips against hers, then both his hands came up to cup her face. His tongue sought entrance and she opened to him with a moan. His hands slipped down around her neck, firm but gentle, his thumb rubbing across the gentle depression nestled between her collarbones. It was a subtle emphasis of her vulnerability, a touch of intimacy that conveyed both tactile and emotional significance, and again it felt possessive.

She shivered under his lips and hands, feeling herself lost in the adeptness of his seduction, and she didn’t resist even when he slid his fingers beneath the collar of her kimono and gently pushed out across her shoulders. She trembled as he gradually bared her skin, his mouth continuing to explore her own, until the robe fell from her shoulders to catch in the crook of her arms, and it was only then that she realized she was no longer holding her garment closed, but had instead pressed her hands to his chest. Was it to push him away, or to feel the firm muscles beneath his thin shirt? She couldn’t remember, only that now the thought of pushing him away made no sense. She wanted him to keep kissing her, wanted him to bare her more to his hands and eyes; the kimono was in the way; why wasn’t she already naked with him? She suddenly remembered that Anne had removed all the compulsions that affected her in her bedroom, so her desires were entirely her own… unless Damian was somehow influencing her too.

Oh, was she ever again to be allowed to be just herself, free to respond as she wished, without the effect of some external force? Yet perhaps she was perfectly free, even now, and it was her own desires that drove her.

His hands trailed down her arms to her wrists, his fingers closing around them as he slowly pulled her wrists down and around behind her back; the kimono fell further, no longer supported by her arms, and now she was nude down to her waist where the material bunched, caught on her wrists… but open, too – no sash to hold it – and all of her was revealed to him, did he but care to look. She knew herself held in his grasp and it only added to her sense of vulnerability, and still his tongue gently explored her mouth, entwining around hers, her held helplessness only adding to the heady intimacy.

He pulled her firmly against him and her naked breasts were pressed to his shirt, the hardness of his chest beneath. She had to arch her back to lift her mouth to his, and his kiss took on a more passionate note as he thrust his tongue dominantly against hers. Red whimpered, unresisting and almost unaware as he freed the silk material from one wrist then the other, the kimono dropping to the floor at her feet.

At last he broke the kiss, still holding her by her wrists in the small of her back, her body pushed against his, his strong fingers splaying down across the top of her ass. “Do you trust me?” it was a quiet murmur between intimate lovers, and there was only one answer.

“Yes,” she said, and in that moment, she believed it, too.

He smiled slowly, “Not so wise.”

Quickly he pulled her hands around to the front of her body and she felt soft rope wrapped around both wrists. Where had he got that from? She was sure he hadn’t held it a moment before… and in the time it took her to have that thought, her wrists were held, bound, infinitely more secure than the amateurish knot Alfie had tied. There was no comparison… no comparison between their respective bondage; no comparison between the two men. The one was only a pale shadow of the other.

Red felt her breath catch in her throat, her vulnerability suddenly emphasized. She was nude before him, held, but moreover she was fully aroused merely by his kisses, helpless before his strength and power, and unresisting before his will.

Was this even the mirror, or Anne’s effect? No… Anne had removed the compulsions. This was purely her response to him. This was entirely his doing, and Anne and the mirrors were forgotten; they had no place here.

He lifted her bound wrists high above her head so that her nude body was taut and stretched. He was so much stronger than her, and she was forced to rise to her toes. He walked her backwards, to the middle of the space between her bed and the door to her ensuite, a single large hand encompassing both bound wrists while his other lay firmly on her hip, holding her, supporting her, as he moved her where he wished her. Then his hand left her hip and was reaching up above her; a mechanical whine from near the wall to one side, and she felt metal brush briefly again the skin of her wrists. He released both hands and she was held, her wrists secured… the suspension hook! Why would he…? But it had all happened so fast. He’d done it in mere moments, and she’d had no chance to resist… as if that had ever been an option.

“Tell me, Red… have you experienced pain?” He was turning to the small table, brushing his fingers over the items there. Just beyond, Anne sat watching, a smile on her face.

Red swallowed as she heard his question. What could he mean? Aside from the obvious… and that was too obvious. She pulled ineffectually against the hook, but it held her wrists so high that she was balanced only on her toes and could garner no leverage. She was totally and completely helpless, and he’d just asked if she’d experienced pain.

He turned to her then, a small smile on his face, and unlike Anne’s his was playful, charming. How anyone could be so charming after such a question… “But of course you have, the marks on your quite delicious ass are testimony. Perhaps I should have asked a different question: do you enjoy pain?”

He picked up the flogger, drawing her eyes. Its handle was bound in a dark-brown leather, and two-dozen long suede strands dangled towards the floor.

“I… I… don’t like pain,” she twisted against the hook, serving merely to rotate her body a fraction; she lacked the purchase for more.

“Are you sure?” he took a deliberate step towards her, the flogger in his hand. Alfie would have swished it menacingly, she knew – a spontaneous thought that was most absurd in the moment – yet perhaps relevant, too, for Damian was far more efficient, far more… purposeful in all that he did.

“I’m sure,” Red eyed the flogger again, feeling her heart beating fast, “Please…”

He ignored her pleading. “It was the riding crop, I assume?” he gestured with the end of the flogger to the table where the crop lay.

“Yes,” her response was swift, for she felt an overwhelming urge to avoid offending in any way.

“And you didn’t like it at all?” his eyebrows were raised as if in polite disbelief.

Red hesitated. Had she liked it? It had hurt… her ass still smarted a day later, and the anger-fueled strikes across both cheeks had stung like hell. Yet… there had been a harsh dominance in it, an unrefined expression of power that had wrought her submission, which in turn had aroused her. Helped too by the position she’d been in, bound, her bottom raised and proffered. But the pain had been the catalyst, not the cause.

“No, I didn’t,” her response was carefully muted; she had no wish to anger a man holding a flogger before her bound, nude, and helpless body.

He began to idly turn the flogger handle in his hand, causing the strands to slowly windmill. “Pain can be a complicated thing,” he said, and she had to focus on his words, such was the distraction of the flogger and her predicament. “Often it isn’t the initial application that affects us so, but what comes after.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” Red begged, watching the flogger with wide eyes.

He smiled slowly, “My girl, I have no intention of hurting you. Let’s just call this… stimulation.”

He let the tips of the flogger’s whirling strands caress Red’s breast, striking across her nipple and down and across one side.

She cried out in reflex, twitching helplessly against the rope, anticipating a pain far greater than the mildly stinging sensation he had actually caused. To be sure, her breast felt a prickly smart, but even that was now fading. It vaguely reminded her of an acupuncture experience she’d once had, if two-dozen needles had been used in the blink of an eye. She flushed with the shame of her excessive response.

“Did that hurt?” he asked solicitously, idly spinning the flogger.

“No…” and it hadn’t; not really. Well within her pain tolerances… which she feared were about to be tested. She eyed him warily, extremely aware of the sudden sensitivity of her breast where the strands had struck.

“Shall we try again?”

“No, thank you.”

He chuckled, letting the flogger drop down, and turned and placed it back on the table. She watched him in surprise, and even Anne looked puzzled. Instead he picked up the gag and approached her with it.

“It seems your ability to speak is a distraction for you. I want you to be able to focus on the experience. Open.”

She shook her head, eyeing him apprehensively, keeping her lips firmly together.

He reached out and brushed the back of one hand gently over her sensitized breast, and she hissed at the touch. “Open.”

Again she shook her head, chewing nervously on her lower lip.

He smiled slowly, clearly enjoying himself, and turned his hand to grasp her nipple gently but firmly between finger and thumb. “Open?”

“Nhh nhh,” Red murmured, sealing her lips, shaking her head, her eyes wide. At some level she knew the end result was inevitable, but she was so caught up in the moment that she spared no thought for what lay ahead.

He pinched her nipple, pulling it outward a little, her breast stretching, and Red whimpered. “You’re going to open,” he said, twisting the nipple back and forth between his fingertips. “Partly because you won’t wish further escalation, but mostly because you want me to be pleased.”

Red shivered at his words. He was right, damn him. Oh, it was easy to deny him access for now, but she did want to please him. She still didn’t know if that was his effect, the mirrors, or Anne’s compulsion – or whether it was her own response to him. And perhaps not knowing was the worst thing. But she couldn’t deny her response to him, the way he compelled her submission, the sheer animal magnetism of his sensual, seductive nature. Fuck it, but she would do what he wished, she knew that now, and damn him for his arrogant, confident, sensually-charged and irresistible charm.

She opened her mouth.

He met her reaction with a grin. “I love that fire in your eyes.” He touched the ball gag to her lips then pushed it into her mouth. Red felt her jaw prized open awkwardly by its presence and glared at him again, her humiliation and discomfort warring with her submission. His grin widened.

It took him but a moment to fasten the strap around Red’s head, over her maroon hair. “Now, where were we?”

He returned to the table and picked up the flogger once more, and now Red could not voice her protests. He was going to do what he wanted with her, and Anne was going to enjoy her ring-side seat. Red felt both her pulse and her arousal rise in anticipation.

Damian walked around her slowly, the flogger idly swaying in one hand; she followed him in the mirrors’ reflections. “You really are quite a picture. And I think you’re ready to behave.” She was, she really was. To do anything else in this situation was foolish in the extreme.

He took a small detour, stopping beside the motor affixed to her apartment wall, and a moment later Red heard a whirr. The rope holding her hands lowered an inch, then another, until she was comfortably able to stand – though her arms were still held, still raised high above her.

“Better? I imagine your arms were getting quite sore.”

She nodded gratefully, feeling less strain in her shoulders. They’d been aching, she’d certainly noticed, but there’d been enough… distractions… to keep her mind off the discomfort.

“Well, since you’re more stable, perhaps you’d be kind enough to spread your legs for me.”

Red tried to turn to him in shock, but her raised arms and held position prevented even that reflex. She settled with rapidly shaking her head; the thought of the flogger between her legs filled her with a whole new sense of apprehension.

In the corner of her eye, and across all the mirrors, she saw him spin the flogger faster, changing the angle as he did, and then it whipped across her ass – all the strands thudding into her with a sting that enflamed the soreness already there. Involuntarily she cried out against the gag, but only a muffled squeak made it past.

Her bottom burned; the blow hadn’t been hard, but the kiss of the leather smarted fiercely. Quickly she spread her feet apart. What was the use of defying him, anyway? He could do what he wished to her. She had to trust that he would not strike as he just had on the even more vulnerable target she had been forced to expose. Trust… there was a concept she didn’t expect to have to consider while hanging, nude, from the suspension hook in her own bedroom.

“Good girl.” Again the flogger began to spin; he was still behind her, but she could see everything in the mirrored reflections about her – his movements, the lazy flow of the flogger’s tails. And, as a counterpoint, the swish of his own tail, the horns on his head. They seemed to suit him, adding to his appealing mystique. ‘…Adding to his appealing mystique’?! What am I thinking!

She’d become distracted by the image of him, and by the war of her own emotions as she considered him. She saw his eyes were on her ass and the spin of the flogger had accelerated, and her cheeks clenched in anticipation.

“It’ll hurt less if you relax.” His warning came too late as the tails of the flogger began a regular staccato against her sore ass. She whimpered, desperately trying to convince her body to un-tense, but it was three… four impacts before she was finally able to release. It was as if she was falling into the sensations: no single strike was a blow such as Alfie had inflicted with the crop; each impact was a cascade of sharp caresses from the multiple strands, stroking across her sore skin, stimulating, tormenting; yet none so painful as to elicit more than a gasp against the muffling gag.

He was right: it was better if she relaxed, though it didn’t stop her involuntary tensing with each impact. But by focusing on relaxing she felt a sense of disassociation, as though she was detached somehow from the individual impacts and able to blend, instead, into the combined whirl of sensations.

He paused only long enough to brush her long hair over her shoulder before switching the flogger to her upper back, and Red hadn’t expected that. It felt quite different, the skin fresh, and after a moment she was aware of a glow that suffused all of her skin. Yet despite the sting of the strikes it wasn’t pain exactly… it didn’t hurt in the way she’d feared. Her body felt alive; she was more conscious of her skin than she ever had been, when suddenly he stopped.

Red became aware that she’d closed her eyes. She hadn’t seen him stop, hadn’t even immediately noticed given that her skin continued to throb as though expecting the regular impacts to continue. Her breathing was labored against the gag, her body covered in a sheen of perspiration, but her ass and her back were alive, and in a way that she’d never experienced before.

His hand was suddenly on her ass, a gentle, soothing caress across her burning skin, and Red whimpered involuntarily, pushing her bottom back against his hand. The gag made her whimper an embarrassingly pathetic squeak, but she didn’t care – if his hand remained stroking her, it was worth the humiliation.

“Do you like that?” his lips seemed mere inches from her ear, and she nodded quickly.

His fingers dipped lower between her spread legs, rubbing gently across the folds of her sex. “Mmm,” he murmured, and she felt his breath against her ear, his shirt brushing lightly against the sensitive skin of her back, “do you know how wet you are?”

Red took a shuddering breath, her ass still instinctively pushing back against his hand, serving to grant him easier access to her body. She knew she was aroused, yes… but only as his fingers had touched her did she understand quite how wet he’d made her. Was she getting off on pain now too? But this wasn’t mere pain… he’d taught her that. Yes, it hurt; at some level, it hurt. But it was mild, like too-bright sunlight on a beautiful summer’s day, or the ache following a punishing session at the gym. It was a good hurt. Invigorating, energizing, provoking her senses far beyond anything she’d previously experienced. And it magnified every touch, as if the lightest stroke of his fingertip was a cornucopia of pleasure.

She tried to push her ass back further, desperate for him to touch her more, but she’d reached the limit of what her bound wrists would allow and could only whimper her frustration and need.

“Are you ready for more?” again his deep voice was an intimate caress, whispered against her ear.

Red nodded once, twice, a shudder of arousal and anticipation running through her body, spurred by his words, his promise of more, and his fingers gently caressing her sex.

She’d hoped that meant he’d push his fingers into her, or perhaps even release her and take her to the bed, but instead he merely stepped away and began to twirl the flogger again. Red watched him warily in the mirrors’ reflections; the skin of her back and ass were still warm and if he continued from where he’d left off, she knew the pain would ramp up quickly. She wasn’t sure she was ready for that. But as he gradually walked around her, the tails of the flogger making wide, lazy circles in the air, it became apparent that it wasn’t her rear he was interested in.

He came to stand before her, his eyes running slowly and deliberately over her displayed nakedness. With her wrists bound above her Red felt more exposed than ever before, but it was the predatory look in his eyes that made her feel most vulnerable. She could do nothing to protect herself from whatever he was about to do, her body was defenseless and even the gag merely served to emphasize her helplessness. To add to her humiliation, the gag was preventing her from effectively being able to swallow, to control her tongue, and her saliva had been building for a while. Even as Damian stood before her a trail of drool fell from her lip to land between her breasts, running down her bare skin. For Red, to whom presentation and cultivated sophistication were hallmarks of her identity, this was an intolerable degradation. She whimpered her shame, unable to meet his eyes.

“There’s something delightful about such beauty, such innocence held captive, isn’t there?” he said quietly, as his hand came up to her breast.

“There is indeed,” Anne agreed from where she sat watching.

Damian’s hand stilled, not quite touching Red’s skin, and for a moment his eyes seem to flare. “Be quiet, witch, I was not addressing you.” His tone was curt in the extreme and he had not even deigned to turn and look at Anne. “You are here on sufferance; remember that.”

Red cringed at the sharpness of his response for it showed something more of who Damian was, of what he was capable of being, and with her held so vulnerably she would not ever wish that tone directed at her. But his eyes softened again as he gazed upon her.

“I apologize for the witch. She will not interrupt us again.” He spoke softly but there was a warning in his words, and it was not directed at Red. It was an effort not to glance towards Anne; it was Anne who held power over her, and she could not imagine Anne would have taken kindly to being so summarily dismissed. Red feared recriminations later, and whether Anne would take out her ire in a punishment on Red.

He laid his palm lightly over her nipple and pushed gently against her breast. “You are so delicate, so fresh, that it almost seems a shame to despoil you,” he sounded wistful, “but then, I would not forgive myself for leaving this opportunity to another.”

He tucked the handle of the flogger under one arm and his fingers rose to the buckle holding her gag in place. She felt him work it loose. “I wish to hear you again.” He pulled the gag carefully free of her mouth, one hand gently supporting her jaw as he did. She was not quite quick enough to suck back all the saliva that had formed, and another trail fell from her lips. “You may speak if you wish. I don’t need to remind you to be respectful, do I?”

He just had, of course. “No, sir.”

He smiled down at her then bent and kissed her mouth, his hand sliding around to hold the back of her neck, keeping her still for him. Her jaw was a little stiff from the gag and slick with all her drool, but she could not resist his soft lips, his probing tongue.

Damian broke the kiss and smiled down at her, his fingers brushing gently over her cheek. “Now we will continue, and I will be able to hear your delicious cries.”

She shivered at his words, at his touch, and at the sadism he implied. Would he hurt her now?

He took a small step back, once more taking the flogger in his hand and twirling the strands around in the way of which he seemed so fond. “Spread your legs again, please, and keep them open.” Red hadn’t realized she’d closed them and hurried to obey, the added exposure warring with her fear of what he would do if she displeased. If he wanted her body open to him, he could easily force her to obey. It was the lesser of the two evils: a simple choice.

“Yes, just like that. Very beautiful…” his fingers dropped down between her legs, “…and very wet.”

She whimpered as his touch explored the folds of her sex, and again as his fingertip flicked up over her clit.

“You’re ready now.”

He hadn’t stopped twirling the flogger even as he’d caressed her. It caught her by surprise as he merely took a small step back and, with a flick of his wrist, caused the tips of the strands to rain down upon her naked breast.

Red cried out at the sting of the impact; it was the suddenness, the unexpected sensation and the sensitivity of her body more than the pain itself. To be struck in such a way in such a place, to have her basest desires to protect herself stripped from her – it was humiliation, it was possession, it was control. Her response was intense, her body shuddering from the combination of physical and psychological stimuli, yet he gave her no time to process before the flogger landed again.

She writhed before him, the flogger landing again and again, small gasps elicited with each impact as he struck in turn across both breasts. At some level she garnered that he was a master of his art; never did her involuntary movements cause him to strike other than as he intended, and never was more force used than he wished. Yet the intricacies of what he was doing paled against her reaction to them, for again her body had been brought to a state of stimulation that was almost too great to bear.

“Please… no more…” and the cry was drawn from her at last. She had feared displeasing him, feared the punishment he could enact if she did, but her breasts were burning with the treatment and her nipples were throbbing. Yet even so he had remained well within her pain thresholds – which she had never considered particularly great – and it was the excessive stimulation that had driven her to plead with him.

He turned slightly, the flogger drawing a mesmerizing figure-eight before her face, and now he had it spinning the other way. “Legs apart,” he reminded her, and a moment later the strands caressed her vulva.

Red gasped, instinctively rising up on her toes to alleviate the sting, and she had to fight not to close her legs. She watched, transfixed, as the flogger made another lazy loop, and against the strands came to swipe across her defenseless vulva. It should hurt, she had thought it would hurt, but it was more like a slap: sharp, sudden, unexpected, even though she could see it coming, stimulating and teasing her flesh; and he did it again. And again.

Her entire body felt as if it were on fire. Her ass, her back, her breasts and now her pussy were burning with the result of his ministrations, and every inch of her skin was alive and tingling. Red felt tears in her eyes from the intensity; nothing else was in her world save for him, the flogger, and the feeling of her body.

He let the strands fall and lowered the handle. “Shall we see if that’s enough?”

“It’s enough,” Red gasped quickly; her body was overwhelmed, and she was unable to think of anything else.

“I’ll be the judge,” he said softly, and his hand came again between her legs.

It was the lightest of touch, merely three fingers against her vulva, rubbing softly, gently, yet Red’s back arched, and she writhed under him, a cry drawn from her lips. To her it was the most intense of touches, for not only was she highly stimulated but it was his touch she’d been craving, and for so long. She pushed himself against his hand, sobbing with the relief of his soothing touch on her burning skin, her reaction to him, her arousal, her need.

“Hmm. Maybe it is enough.” His fingers stroked upward, lightly caressing her labia but carefully avoiding her clit, and as he did, he stooped and took one erect nipple into his warm, wet mouth. Red couldn’t help the moan that escaped, and she arched her back, thrusting her chest towards him, his fingers playing with her even as his tongue flicked once, twice over her aching nipple.

“Please…” she begged, and she wasn’t even sure what she was asking for.

He reached up to her bound hands and unhooked them, his greater height and long reach making it a simple task. He kept his hands in hers as he pulled the slip on the knot he’d tied previously, releasing them, then stepped behind her, pulling her hands behind her back. She felt him bind them again, and she hadn’t even thought to resist or make it difficult for him.

He pushed himself against her back. The soft material of his shirt was soothing against her sensitized skin, but it was his groin pressing against her bound hands that drew her attention. She felt his hardness beneath her fingers. One hand came up and grasped her throat, tilting up her head up and back, his mouth against her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

What she wanted was simplicity itself. “Fuck me, please…” her fingers were reaching for him of their own accord, stroking his rigid cock through the material of his pants, and she longed to feel him without the impedance of his clothing.

He walked her forward to the bed, his hand about her throat as he did, and she was suddenly reminded of Anne’s gaze upon them. How could she have forgotten? He was going to take her… possibly… hopefully… and Anne was going to watch all the while. There was nothing she could do about it, save hiding her face in shame. If Damian had simply walked in and taken her it wouldn’t have been so bad, perhaps, but he hadn’t – he’d teased and tormented her, made her desire him, made her beg him to fuck her. And Anne had witnessed it all: her raw, unconditional surrender, and her most intimate emotions played out as a spectacle. Oh, Anne had watched before; Red knew that. But never in person, never so close, a constant reminder that they were not alone.

They reached the bed and her knees brushed against it, yet still Damian pushed her onward, his meaning clear. She climbed on awkwardly, her bound hands a hindrance, and couldn’t help but be reminded that she’d done the same for Alfie just a few hours ago, the night before. How many times did it take before it became a habit? She was under no illusion that if Anne had her way, this wouldn’t be the last time.

Yet there was a world of difference between the mocking, petty, small-minded Alfie and the charismatic strength of Damian, emphasized again as he courteously helped her keep her balance. It was strange to feel gratitude to his steadying hands after he’d tormented her so with the flogger, dominated and controlled her, but his style was more gentlemanly than she may have anticipated. She was struck with the notion that he was the kind of man her father wanted her to date, and the irony – given her current predicament – was profound.

She edged forward on her knees, conscious of Anne seated beside the small table, on the other side of the bed, watching every move. Behind her, Damian nudged against her ass, one hand still around her neck, controlling her. It was clear he wanted her more central on the bed, and, with a measured shift of weight, she gradually advanced, one knee at a time. She was determined not to rush, to be as graceful as was possible to be, for it was difficult enough being nude before their eyes without also appearing hurried or ungainly. What was it about men and their restriction of her hands? Steven, Alfie, now Damian… she didn’t threaten them, so why bind her? But she knew the answer: it was merely dominance; yet given the depth of her submissive response, there was nothing ‘merely’ about it.

“You are femininity resplendent,” he said softly from behind her. “Now lower for me, slowly, your face to the bed. I don’t need to tell you to keep your delicious ass up, do I?”

“No, sir,” Red replied, closing her eyes briefly, his intent obvious. She began to obey, but his hand forestalled her.

“One more thing. We shall respect Anne’s wishes in this regard: you are to keep your face turned towards her, and not bury it in the mattress.”

Red swallowed nervously. So, she would be allowed nowhere to hide. He would take her while Anne watched, and she would see all – even the emotions as they played across her features. She glanced at Anne in reflex; her eyes were on Red, and she was watching intently, her lips slightly parted and her eyes glittering with lust and anticipation. Their eyes met and Anne’s lips curled in a small smile, but it held no warmth. Her expression was one of condescension and predatory superiority, and Red knew that Anne saw her as nothing more than a toy for her amusement. Yet, though Anne’s touches upon her had been fleeting and rare, their relationship had been entirely sexual, and thus, whether Anne intended it or not, she was creating more dominance to prey upon Red’s submission. It made Red’s stomach squirm, further enflamed her arousal, and added to her shame.

Red wanted desperately to look away, to cover her face and hide, but Anne’s eyes held hers and even Damian’s hand on her neck was a subtle reminder not to turn away. She lowered as Damian had bid, bending at the waist, feeling her ass rise in the air to balance the move, and it was as if she was offering herself to him. But of course, she was… she already had. This was merely the graphic, explicit version, and it was as if she could feel his eyes on her nakedness, the spread cheeks of her ass and her exposed sex below. He would know how wet she was with merely a glimpse. Why did that bother her when she knew what was to come? Perhaps it was the vulnerability of it, underscored with her tied hands, or maybe it was Anne’s presence, emphasizing Red’s submissive obedience merely by bearing witness.

She bent further, Damian’s hand withdrawing and running down her spine as it did, reminding her again of the sensitivity the flogger had left. Even that light touch made her shiver. Her breasts touched the silk sheet, and it was refreshingly cool against her heated, stimulated skin. She laid her cheek on the mattress, her face turned towards Anne, her chin angled upward slightly to keep her in view. Anne merely shifted slightly in her chair to improve the angle, to better see Red’s face in anticipation of the moment when Damian took her. Red closed her eyes in shame and humiliation.

“Keep your eyes open while he enjoys you, please, dear.” Anne’s request was immediate, and on this point, it seemed Damian did not object to the interruption.

Every last remnant of defense was being stripped away, and it was an effort to force her eyes back open, to look at Anne and hold her gaze.

Behind her, the bed shifted to accommodate Damian’s weight, and Red gasped as she felt a touch against her sex. It took her a brief moment to realize it wasn’t Damian’s fingers; he’d clearly freed his manhood from his slacks, not even bothering to strip naked before he took her.

He rubbed the head of his cock against her, coating it in her wetness, before placing the tip against her entrance. Oh, how she longed to close her eyes! But Anne’s gaze held hers, even as he slowly pushed into her. Red took a sharp, tense gasp, feeling herself stretched by his girth. He was significantly larger than Alfie had been… larger than Steven too… it was almost painful to accommodate him, and that had just been the head of him! Her eyes widened as he pushed forward into her, stretching her more, and again she gasped. All the while Anne sat watching, a small smile on her lips. Her eyes held Red’s; she didn’t even look to where Damian was penetrating her, far more interested in Red’s expressions and the reflection of her emotions than in the act itself.

She felt Damian draw back slightly and push into her again, stretching her, and another small gasp was forced from her lips. Once more he did the same, his cock moving slowly inside her body, and this time he entered her fully, his hips coming to rest against her up-turned ass. Everywhere he touched her body he’d already applied the flogger; her ass, her sex, even her breasts against the sheet. Everywhere was alive, every touch accentuated. And he was so big inside her… Red’s breathing was shallow, her body struggling to accommodate him. She felt so full that it was almost painful, yet it was the pleasure that was most intense. She wondered if he would be gentle. If Anne hadn’t been watching she would have begged him not to be, but with her there, seeing every expression on Red’s face, she couldn’t bring herself to voice it.

“I’ve been looking forward to this for a long time,” he murmured to her, “longer than you could know,” and his hips began to move. At first his strokes were long, slow, and she shuddered with pleasure beneath him. Each elicited a whimper as he pushed into her, and Anne heard it all. She was as aware of Anne watching as she was of Damian’s body against hers, within her, and she’d never felt more objectified, more submissive, more blatantly sexual than she did in that moment.

His weight shifted slightly on the bed behind her, coming forward more into her body, then one hand grasped her bound wrists and the next thrust was sharp, hard. He pushed her bound wrists against the small of her arched back, holding her still for him, and his thrust drove a cry from her. He withdrew slowly then thrust in again, his hips hitting her ass with a slapping sound against her sore flesh. Again Red cried out involuntarily, and again and again as he thrust into her; each time she felt shame and humiliation to be so taken as Anne watched, unable to control her own responses. But too, there was pleasure. She’d never been fucked like this by anyone, and her channel clenched around him as a shudder of ecstasy wracked her body.

There were tears in her eyes from the strain of having to keep them open. Oh she could blink, but she couldn’t close them, even to focus on the sensations he was inflicting upon her. Damn Anne… she’d made it a compulsion, hadn’t she?

The intensity of his thrusts increased, the only sounds in the room the repeated slaps of his groin against her ass and the cries each forced from her. She couldn’t even hear him breathing, as though his exertion was too mild to be a hindrance. His hand landed across her ass, adding another slap to interrupt the rhythm, and again Red moaned.

Her pleasure was building, her climax nearing; the force of his assault on her was too much for her body to bear even without all the extra stimulation of her skin, the voyeurism, the helplessness feeding her submission.

“Please…” she begged, and the word slipped out without thinking. She saw Anne’s eyes glitter with lust, felt Damian’s hand clench tighter around her wrists, and he drove into her harder, faster. There were no words now, only the sounds of pleasure forced from her as an orgasm swept through her.

He didn’t stop. Even as her sex clenched tightly around him, his only acknowledgement was a small grunt of effort as he plunged into her again, then again, and she could only ride the waves of pleasure helplessly beneath him.

Red had no sense of time; she didn’t know how long he fucked her for. She lost track of the number of times she came, only that her body was driven from one peak to the next, sore and used and filled by him over and over. Her throat was sore from her cries, her wrists and shoulders ached from the force of his grip on her, her eyes shed tears to the sheets below, and her sex throbbed with the pummeling it had received; yet she was near oblivious to these discomforts in the world of pleasure he inflicted upon her.

At last, at long last, she felt the rhythm of his strokes change, growing shorter, more abrupt, and she sensed his climax was near. He pulled her hard against himself as his hips ground against her ass and she felt him swell inside her then erupt with a flood of his seed. His cum splashed against her walls, feeling so much warmer than any she had ever received, the sensation almost alien yet so fulfilling, and her body clenched around him and beneath him as she came again.

For a long moment all was quiet, just the sound of her ragged breathing as a sign that they were finished. Then he released his own long, pent-up breath, and Red felt his fingers pull loose the bindings around her wrists. Inside her his cock pulsed again, sending pleasurable aftershocks through her aching sex, before he slowly withdrew from her, a flood of his seed slipping from her sex to splash against the sheet beneath.

He took another breath, and she felt his weight leave the bed. “We are done then, witch. Your debt is paid.”

She saw Anne glance towards him and nod, before turning her gaze back to Red’s face.

Red slowly eased her aching arms forward, her shoulders making known their discomfort, and collapsed to lay prone on the bed. It took her a moment to find her voice, and her throat was sore, her words husky when it came. “Thank you, sir.”

“He’s already gone, dear.”

Red blinked in surprise, at first not understanding, then looked in the mirror before her: nothing but empty room. She turned, looking behind her, and there was no sign of him. It had been but a fleeting moment… had he really walked out so quickly? Could he have really walked out so quickly? It would have taken him longer than that merely to adjust his clothing. She hadn’t even heard the door.

It was more magic she didn’t understand; he’d just vanished. She’d just been fucked by a demon, there was no doubt now.

She turned to glare at Anne. “Is this my role in life now, witch? To be your whore, to be pimped out for demons?”

“Oh dear, don’t be so ungrateful, it’s not becoming.” She fixed Red with a penetrating stare. “Answer me this: did you enjoy it?”

“…Yes,” and Red couldn’t stop her answer. Oh, she hurt almost everywhere, the aches making their presence known as the endorphins slowly receded… but hell yes, she’d enjoyed it. It had been amazing.

“Well then. What are you complaining about?”

Red said nothing, letting the fire in her eyes clearly communicate her reaction.

Anne raised an eyebrow. “You don’t get to look at me like that, dear. Or to call me ‘witch’. You forget whom you’re addressing.”

“Who am I addressing, witch?” There were no compulsions on her now; Damian had left, she felt bereft of his presence and was nothing more than a used, discarded toy. For some inexplicable reason she was so angry with Anne - even though she knew it was reckless.

Anne thinned her lips. “Do not try my patience, dear. Know your place.”

Red slowly pushed herself up, her body aching with each move. “I have no ‘place’. I’m my own person, dammit, and I’m done with your games.”

Anne smiled slowly. “You are a spoilt, prissy little self-entitled bitch, and being properly fucked once or twice hardly changes that – despite how obviously keen you are to be on your knees. I am not done with you yet, dear.”

There were so many emotions running through Red that she couldn’t process them all, and it was the anger that won out. “You may not be done with me, but I’m done with you,” she spat at Anne. “No more, you hear?”

Anne laughed, though there was no humor in her tone. “No more? My dear, we’ve only just begun.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Oh, but you will. And again. And again and again until I’m finished with you.”

Red could only glare at her as she fought to deny the import of Anne’s words.

“You are mine now, dear, and it’s time you were reminded. Crawl over here.”

Red’s eyes widened as her limbs began to obey. She moved to all fours, unable to prevent herself, and slowly crawled across the bed towards Anne.

“I can make you do whatever I want, whenever I want… it seems you need a reminder, dear.”

Red was nearing the edge of the bed and terror was gripping her. She was wholly unable to control her own body, and Anne’s impassive mask had finally slipped; she was infuriated, and Red was responsible.

If she’d been vulnerable before it was nothing to the sheer abject helplessness she faced before Anne’s total control of her.

She reached the edge of the bed and slowly edged over the side, one hand then the other reaching the soft, plush carpet, a knee following and the last. She continued to crawl to where Anne sat, unable to do anything else.

“Yes, crawl to me. It is fitting, is it not, for the poor little rich girl to become nothing more than a slave for my whims?” Anne watched her come, her eyes glittering. “And such a comely one too; I have to admit you do look good naked, crawling so eagerly towards me.”

Red had almost reached Anne’s chair.

“Stop there,” Anne said, and Red felt her body freeze. “Now then, dear, wouldn’t you like a further demonstration of my power? A further reminder of your place?”

“I’m sorry, Anne,” Red whispered, her body trembling with fear. All her anger had drained away in the face of her powerlessness. “Please, forgive me.”

“I’m not the forgiving type, dear. No, I collect the debts that are owed me.” She leant forward slightly. “Kneel.”

Red moved swiftly to kneel before her, unsure whether it was Anne’s compulsion or her own sudden desire to obey. She realized how terrible was the mistake she had made and trembled before Anne. Her ass was sore against her heels, her body sticky with the remnants of sex, her shoulders aching, her skin red and sore. Yet these were footnotes in the back of her mind in the face of her current peril.

“Kneel properly, dear.”

It took Red a moment to understand what Anne meant, for she’d felt no further compulsion directing her. Lowering her eyes in shame and mortification, she slowly spread her knees wide beneath Anne’s gaze, and the movement was her own decision, wholly within her own control, an act of utter submission.

“Your cunt looks well-fucked,” Anne observed, and the vulgarity was more shocking for being so different from her usual composed and well-bred manner of speaking. “I could compel you to feed yourself the remnants of his cum, but I know you’d enjoy that too much.”

Red flinched as if struck, not least for the truth in Anne’s derogatory words.

“Do you not understand your place? I could tell you to walk from this apartment just as you are, find the first man you seek and beg him to fuck you, and you would!”

Red shivered, and the worst thing was the idea wasn’t unattractive.

“I could parade man after man into this bedroom, and make you do whatever they wished. I could make you hate it or love it, but you would still do it. I could make you scream and fight as you were taken over and over again, or I could make you beg and plead for them to abuse you.”

Anne’s words created images in Red’s mind, and she imagined herself desperate to please an array of strangers in whatever way they wished. She shuddered; as a fantasy it was thrilling, but Anne could make it a reality, and she was not sure that would be so enjoyable.

Anne leant forward, placing a fingertip under Red’s chin and tilting her face up, forcing Red to meet her eyes. “Do you understand, dear?”

“Yes, Anne. I beg forgiveness,” and she poured her earnestness into her words.

“Oh my dear, I want to forgive you, I really do. But you still need to be punished.”

Red shrunk back, her eyes wide at the thought of how Anne might choose to chastise her. “Please Anne, have mercy.”

Anne caressed Red’s cheek with her fingers. “It is my weakness, dear, but I can never resist a pretty nude girl begging on her knees.” She smiled mischievously, “And it was such fun watching you get fucked just now. It’s made me all quite a bother.”

She leant back in her chair, looking down at Red. “Can you guess what your punishment will be?”

Red swallowed nervously. It was so much harder to do what she needed to do without Anne’s compulsion, or even the aura Red suspected she’d used when she first visited, making Red desperate to please. None of that was present now, and she had no doubt that Anne had removed them if only to accentuate the effect of her punishment. Yet, she knew what had to be done.

She steeled herself, her tone carefully respectful. “Please Anne, please may I… show my remorse by… licking you?”

“Oh, my dear, what a kind suggestion! Yes, you may.”

It was important to show enthusiasm, Red knew. Her performance needed to be convincing. She dropped forward onto all fours and crawled slowly closer to Anne, her eyes on the skirt covering her objective. Anne adjusted in her chair, parting her legs to give Red access, revealing a glimpse of lacy black underwear. That was a surprise; Red had expected something more staid.

She crawled between her legs and placed a tentative kiss on the inside of Anne’s knee.

“I didn’t expect you to be quite so willing, dear,” Anne said as she watched, and her tone was mocking, for Anne knew that Red had little experience with women.

Red adjusted her weight to support herself with one hand on the carpet, and reached up with the other to push back Anne’s skirt. She leant in to place a kiss against the thin material covering her sex; it was already damp with Anne’s arousal, though whether that was from her voyeurism or the anticipation of Red’s tongue, she didn’t know.

“I don’t usually… engage with girls like you,” Anne commented thoughtfully, “but in your case I might make an exception. You are truly lovely, and I do so enjoy your reluctance. I think I could get used to having you naked between my legs.”

“Thank you, Anne.” Politeness was no great cost, and keeping Anne pleased was paramount in Red’s present desires. She chewed her lip nervously, unsure how to proceed: Anne had made no move to help Red in her task, and she wondered if she was expected to remove Anne’s underwear, or simply pull it away. She had little experience in such matters and did not want to err. But as Anne had shown no intent to aid in the removal of her lacy black panties, Red gently slipped a finger beneath the material, pulling it out and to one side.

Her eyes met Anne’s smooth vulva; another surprise, for Red had not anticipated that Anne was the sort of person to carefully groom herself there. She’d maintained a tightly trimmed bush above her labia, but the lips themselves were smooth. Red acknowledged her prejudice; there was no reason to think Anne would have one preference or another, merely because, up to this point, she’d maintained a principally prim and proper attitude.

There was something quite appealing about the smoothness of Anne’s sex, the first Red had seen so intimately other than her own, and as she leant in to place a gentle kiss against it, she did so with more curiosity than reluctance. There was a faint musky scent of Anne’s arousal, and it too held a certain appeal. Her tongue came out tentatively, licking softly between Anne’s lips, tracing the line of her cleft, tasting a hint of arousal on the tip of her tongue: a clean, mildly tangy flavor that was not unpleasant. And it wasn’t as if Red hadn’t tasted herself just that morning.

She licked again, more firmly, pushing her tongue deep between Anne’s labia, focusing now on giving her pleasure.

“Mmm, such a lovely start,” Anne sighed contentedly, “but it wouldn’t be a punishment if you end up enjoying yourself, would it dear? And, having seen what a slut you really are, I know how much you like to use your mouth.”

Red licked again, pushing her tongue into Anne’s entrance, trying to focus on her task rather than Anne’s goading comments. Anne’s lips had blossomed open, her arousal evident, and Red felt moisture coat her nose and cheeks as she pushed her face and tongue into Anne’s soft, smooth sex. It was not unlike sucking a man, she thought; the same position on her knees, the same sense of submission… how much she had come to understand her submission, these past few days, and how much she had enjoyed it.

She lapped again at Anne, thinking that there were worse punishments; if this kept Anne from parading random men into her bedroom to use her out of spite, it was more than worth it. It wouldn’t be difficult to develop a liking for it… which was an unexpected reaction. Perhaps she was more into women than she’d thought.

“Do you like being on your knees between my legs, dear?” and Anne dropped one hand down to Red’s head, fingers sliding into her maroon tresses.

“Yes, Anne,” Red murmured against her sex, for it was the politic answer, and yet also, to her own astonishment, the truth.

“Well, that’s not the point here at all, is it?” Anne’s hand pulled Red more firmly between her legs. “This is about teaching you your place, not giving you another outlet for your slutty desires.”

Red licked and lapped at Anne, a sense of foreboding caused by her words, but conscious of the need to perform as well as she could.

“Hmm, I know. Here is my instruction, dear, and you are to be aware of it from the beginning. From now on, as you lick me, your own arousal will grow rapidly.” Red licked again, and she immediately felt a growing tingle between her own legs, for there was something deliciously submissive, perfectly right about her position, her task, and it was quickly turning her on... exactly as Anne had wished, even to the point of making her aware of the compulsion. She was being played with, toyed with, as Anne demonstrated her power over her once more, but even as she recognized this her breath quickened, her own pussy clenched, and she moaned against Anne’s sex.

But Anne wasn’t finished. “Your own orgasm will begin to build, each lick you make bringing you closer to your own release.” Again Red moaned, her body on fire as she licked at Anne, her ass squirming in the air with her rapidly heightened arousal.

Anne’s lips twitched in amusement as she watched. “You will want more than anything to come, such will be the pressing need of your arousal, and you will be eager to lick to achieve that goal.” Her voice lowered, her tone suddenly malicious, “Yet nothing you do will allow you to reach your orgasm; you will remain on the edge, unfulfilled.”

Red whimpered in helpless protest, her arousal already reaching uncontrollable heights, her orgasm already building deep within her, and now Anne had taken away all hope of release. Yet even knowing it was futile, even knowing she was being punished, Red continued to use her mouth on Anne with wild abandon, in the forlorn hope that she might yet still be able to reach the climax she so desperately sought.

“Gosh yes, that’s the tongue I need between my legs,” Anne gasped, sliding forward slightly in her seat to give Red better access. “You are properly motivated now, aren’t you dear?”

She tightened her grip in Red’s hair, pulling her mouth to her clit. Red moaned against her, her own passion uncontrollably rising still further, her tongue licking as rapidly as she could. Each lick was a delicious agony, driving her ardor to greater heights, yet no matter how high the peak, the desperately-needed release continued to evade her.

Anne’s panties ripped as Red inadvertently pulled too hard in her fervor to please, yet neither woman much noticed nor cared. But with the material pulled away Red’s hand was free, and quickly it went between her own legs, delving into her wetness, desperate to bring the extra stimulation she needed to reach her own orgasm. A second hand wound into Red’s hair as Anne’s pulled her head more firmly between her legs, her hips beginning to buck beneath Red’s eagerly-thrashing tongue, and her breathing was an array of small gasps. “Ohhh yes, just there… I’m going to… come… on your face…”

Red was whimpering with each lick, her hand busy between her legs, her hips writhing with the strength of her own unrequited need. Though she was aware of Anne’s manipulations, the intensity of her arousal had driven her far past the point of being able to think of anything but the hunger she felt for Anne’s sex, and the desperate, burning desire of her own body.

She was dimly aware of Anne’s body beginning to shudder beneath her mouth, Anne’s thighs clenching tightly around her head, but all her focus was on lashing her tongue back and forth where her mouth was held to Anne’s clit, and the driving of her fingers deep inside her own sex.

Anne’s tremors slowly abated and Red felt her hand push her firmly away. She resisted, pushing back – she needed one more lick!

“That’s enough, dear.” Red whimpered, pushing forward again, swiping her tongue once more across Anne’s slick folds.

“Stop licking, Red,” and this time she had no choice but to obey. She cried her frustration, her eyes focused on Anne’s slick sex, her fingers still moving desperately against her own body, but to no avail. “Kneel back, please.”

Reluctantly Red complied, her eyes wide, her knees spread as her fingers rubbed frantically across her own swollen clit. “Please Anne, please let me come!”

Anne took a moment to compose herself, sitting back up in her chair, closing her knees and readjusting her disheveled skirt. She pulled the remnants of her underwear from beneath her ass and let them drop, discarded, to Red’s floor. “I think we should definitely do that again sometime, don’t you, dear?”

“Yes… yes…” Red gasped, her back arching as her fingers delved into her drenched sex once again, “Please Anne, please… I’m begging you… please let me come!”

Anne watched Red’s wanton display for a long moment, a small smile on her face. Red kept her pleading eyes on her, her hand never stopping. She wanted to beg again, but risked displeasing with her persistence.

“You want to be allowed to come, dear?” Anne asked after a while.

“Yes! Yes! Please, Anne, please!” Red’s response was swift, driven by her tormented desires.

“Oh look, your hand is covered in the remnants of demon-cum. You may orgasm as you lick it clean.”

With a cry Red lifted her hand to her mouth, pushing her fingers deep inside, her tongue and lips working to clean the stickiness from her skin. Immediately her body shook as a powerful climax overwhelmed her, the strong, delicious taste of Damian’s seed filling her mouth, feeding her addiction, and adding to the intensity.

“And there I was thinking you didn’t like women, dear. I think you’ve been holding out on me. And yourself.” Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, “It’s a shame my… engagements are only with male demons…” she smiled as she looked down at Red. “Perhaps if you’re a good girl, I’ll find you some human females to please.”

Red whimpered around her fingers at Anne’s continued goading, her body still shaking from the after-tremors of her forceful release. Oh, Anne had such complete control over her, and though it was abhorrent and perverted, the sexual gratification she had experienced as a consequence was mind-blowing. Could she really accept this future? Was good (okay, fucking awesome) sex enough recompense for the repeated overriding of her free will?

“Well, dear, it’s been fun,” Anne pushed herself slowly to her feet, taking a moment to steady herself as she stood. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon. For now, you have some time to recover…” she cast her eye critically over Red’s nudity, her sweat-damped locks, her reddened skin, her open and gaping sex slick with the combination of Red’s arousal and the remnants of Damian’s pleasure. “I think you may need a shower, too.” She stepped around Red, patting her gently on the head. “Don’t worry dear, I’ll show myself out.”

She made her way across Red’s apartment, leaving Red kneeling forlornly on the carpet. The door opened and a moment later closed again, and Red was finally alone. A small sob escaped her. She knelt for a long time, her eyes fixed on the torn, lacy underwear Anne had left behind.

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

Chapter 6 – Smoke and Mirrors

“Trent? It’s Red.” She nodded impatiently. “Yes, but did you follow her?”

Red closed her eyes in relief as she heard his reply. “Send me the details, I’ll meet you there. Also, I need you to get me some things…”

She reeled off the list of what she needed, speaking in a hushed tone in the one spot in her kitchen that wasn’t overlooked by any mirror.

It had been a couple of hours since Anne had left. Red had showered slowly, the water initially sore on her abused skin, but gradually beginning to soothe. She’d dressed in jeans, a long, loose t-shirt and a thick hoodie – hardly her usual style, but she needed something more after two days of kimono-related consequences. Besides, the clothes she’d chosen were more comfortable against her still-sensitive skin. She’d been extremely relieved to discover Anne’s throw-away comment from earlier in the day hadn’t prevented her from choosing something other than a short, thin, silky robe.

She’d spent all that time ruminating on her options, even questioning whether any form of defiance was worth the risk. In the end, she’d made her decision and committed to it. Yes, there was a risk of being caught, of being further punished, and it scared her to her core how vengeful Anne would be if her plan failed.

An image entered her mind unbidden – her, nude on her bed, as men and demons took their way with her, her orgasms and pleasure denied her. She knew what the consequences of failure would be, but Anne’s control of her had to be broken. Nothing prevented Anne from enacting precisely what Red feared merely on a whim, and she would be helpless to resist. No, Anne must be stopped.

Red had to try.

Her phone vibrated: a message from Trent, an address. An apartment in New York, just as she’d thought. Then it beeped again, with another address, and this one was… she had no idea. She pulled up Google maps and checked: it was down near the docks in Brooklyn, a storage facility of some type. What would Anne be doing there?

A text came through: Her apartment is registered in her name. I did some digging; she’s registered as the sole owner of a limited company: Portland Introduction Services LLC

Hmm. Innocuous name for a demonic sex-trafficking outfit. Red typed a quick reply: is that storage facility the location?

Yes. I had to call in some favors, but I got this address. I don’t know what’s there, but it’s the company’s only asset.

Red thought quickly. Where to start: Anne’s apartment, or her storage?

Her phone vibrated again. Be careful: she’s still at her apartment. I’ll get your stuff then come back here and keep watch until you arrive.

The storage facility then. She’d go there first while Anne was elsewhere. She typed a quick acknowledgement to Trent and left her apartment.

She considered driving; the address in Brooklyn was an hour away. In the end she ordered an Uber Black; there’d be nowhere she’d want to leave her Ferrari, and she could always simply ask the driver to wait. She was sure he wouldn’t mind being paid to sit around.

She pulled her hood up and left her apartment. Now all she had to do was get to her destination without looking in, or being seen by, any mirrors. Perhaps it was an unnecessary precaution, but equally, perhaps it wasn’t – and there was too much at stake.

She took the stairs; the elevator had mirrors. The foyer had some too, she knew, but she kept her distance and her eyes averted. She checked her phone; the uber was already there. Perfect. She opened the front passenger door and the driver looked at her in surprise. “Mind if I sit up front?”

“Er… no, miss.”

It was the only seat where the mirrors couldn’t see her.

The Uber dropped her off outside an unimposing grey building with an uninviting façade, quickly agreeing to wait when she paid him an enormous tip, and offered more if he was still here when she was done. She stepped out of the car and pushed open the heavy door to the building, entering into a tired-looking reception area with a large desk. No mirrors, thankfully. There was a single man on duty, dressed in a security uniform.

She eyed him warily; she had no cover story, no reason to be accessing Anne’s things. This would not be easy.

Perhaps a combination of charm, directness, and dumb luck would work. The security guard looked up, seeing her, an expression of mild surprise. Clearly, he didn’t get a lot of visitors – or not a lot of visitors like her, anyway. He seemed in his late thirties, with a slightly sour disposition, probably from being stuck in a going-nowhere job that was as boring as fuck. Her visit would likely be the most interesting thing in his day.

She cursed herself for not bringing money for bribes. She was sure a man like that would do anything for a free, large, cash handout. Though… it gave her an idea… but she should’ve worn something more helpful than a hoodie and jeans. Something like a kimono would’ve been ideal.

Yet perhaps her clothes could still be an asset.

She flashed a smile in his direction. “My gosh, it’s so much warmer than I had expected!” Her hands grasped the hem of her hoodie, and she pulled it deliberately slowly up over her head and off, letting her t-shirt ruck up as she did, flashing her bare stomach beneath. She wrapped the arms of the hoodie low around her waist, tying a knot, and smiled again as she pulled her t-shirt up a little, fanning it as if to cool herself. It was a simple matter to tug it against her braless breasts as he did so, and it was gratifying to watch his eyes follow every movement.

And now I really am a slut. But needs must.

“Okay, okay…” she took a step closer to the desk. “I’m so sorry,” she gushed, “it’s my first week on the job. I’m here from Portland Introduction Services to catalogue our storage.”

He drew his eyes reluctantly up to her face. “And you are?”

“Oh, um… Jamie. Jamie… Red.” God, I’d make a terrible spy.

He keyed in her name into the terminal on his desk. “Jamie Red? Sorry, can’t help you. You’re not approved.”

“Well um… it’s my first week. Maybe the system isn’t updated yet?” She chewed on her lip with feigned nervousness, the picture of the gullible, inexperienced new hire.

“Can’t help you. Sorry.”

“Oh, but… I must get in… I have to catalogue the storage…” she trailed off weakly, her eyes on him with a pleading expression. “I only need a few minutes.”

“I’d love to help, honey, but your name isn’t approved.”

“If… if I don’t get this done today, I could lose my job!” She turned doe-like eyes towards him, fingers toying nervously with the hem of her shirt, pulling it tight against her breasts.

“Not my problem honey, sorry.” He leant back in his chair, the very model of indifference, even as his eyes strayed down from her face.

“I can’t lose my job!” it was such fun to affect a desperate air, “Please… please… isn’t there anything I could do to get you to help me…?”

And there it was. The hook was laid. She held her pleading expression, waiting to see if he’d take the bait.

His chair came up slightly as he sat forward again. “Lose your job, you say?”

“Yes! And I need it so badly! I’d do anything for this job. I owe quite a lot of money, and…” she trailed off again and lifted her eyes appealingly.

“So you really, really need this job?”

“Yes, sir, I do!”

He turned to his terminal, typing quick strokes into the keyboard. “Portland Introduction Services? Yeah. They have a storage room on floor 7. Key card entry.” He pulled a key card from the desk before him and waggled it at her. “This card, specifically.”

She kept her t-shirt taut across her breasts and her expression helpless and hopeful. He ran his eyes over her again.

“Well…” he pushed his chair back from his desk. “You’re in luck. It’s a quiet day… I’ll take you on up.”

“Thank you, sir, thank you!” What were the chances he’d help her from the kindness of his heart? Fuck all. But… well… if it got her into Anne’s storage, it would be worth it.

And the roleplaying had been fun. The thought of what she was about to do aroused her. Her nipples were hard against her t-shirt, and she knew he’d seen. He wasn’t even that attractive, and she didn’t care. What have I become?

“Elevator’s this way. After you, honey.”

“Couldn’t we… couldn’t we take the stairs?”

He looked at her in surprise. “I’m not taking the stairs to the seventh floor, honey. You want in or not?”

“Oh… yes.” She pressed the button and the doors opened. Breathed a sigh of relief; the building was too old, too tired and too cheap to have installed mirrors in their elevator.

He followed Red in, using the card to access the controls. Security seemed high for such a simple facility. Fancy security taking all the mirror budget, she thought, I’m ok with that.

His finger rested over the number-seven button. “So just how… keen… are you to keep your job, little lady?” So not out of the kindness of his heart then.

“Very keen, sir.”

“And you’re willing to pay me for my time, being so helpful an’ all?”

“Oh yes, sir, of course!” She lowered her eyes, looking downcast. “Though… I have no money.”

“I can think of a way you could pay.” His hand came up to paw at her breast through her thin t-shirt, but Red was an expert now. She let slip a little whimper but made no move to pull away.

He pushed the button and with a judder the elevator began to rise. “We’re alone in this here whole building, little lady. Just you an’ me. No one ever comes in here unless they have an appointment. Ain’t no appointments today.”

His thumb rubbed over her hardened nipple and he squeezed her breast again, then he raised the key card and waggled it in the air. “How about you show me them fine titties, and maybe I’ll help you.”

Her hands clutched the hem of her t-shirt in mock-nervousness, screwing up the material as she again deliberately flashed the bare skin of her stomach. “You… you want me to show you my breasts?” and her feigned reluctance was so ironic she had to fight not to laugh.

He leered at her. “You did say you’d pay me.”

She chewed her lip as she pretended to consider it. “Just… just show you my breasts?”

“You did say you wanted to keep your job,” he reminded her.

“Oh… yes… um…” she slowly pulled the t-shirt up, turning her face to the side to show her embarrassment and unwilling reluctance. After the last few days it was an easy role to play.

His hand was back on her swiftly, squeezing one breast and then the other, and it took little effort to allow a small, aroused gasp to be pulled from her lips.

The elevator pinged and the doors opened, and he leered at her as he took a final squeeze before turning and leading the way down the corridor. Behind him Red re-adjusted her t-shirt, then followed.

“Room 12,” he said, stopping a moment later before a simple door with a key-card lock, again waggling the card in the air.

“Thank you, sir,” holding out her hand for the card.

“Not so fast, little lady.”

She let her hand fall. “You want… you want me to lift up my shirt again?”

“You want this key?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You want your job?”

“Oh, I really do, sir.”

“Then… I want your tits out… and I want you on your knees, sucking my cock. Then the card’s yours.”

Red felt a shiver run through her at the thought of his cock in her mouth, the prospect of tasting some more cum. “Mmm… okay,” and she smiled. It had been easier than she’d thought.

Red swiped the card through the lock as soon as the elevator doors had closed behind her friendly security guard.

Her oral skills had earned her a half-hour – which was hopefully more than she’d need. The door clicked unlock, and she eagerly pulled it open.

Anne’s storage room was a simple, windowless, square room, and for a storage room it was surprisingly empty. Red saw at a glance that it wasn’t simply a storage room at all. The centre of the room was an open space, a collection of half-used candles discarded to one side and the remnants of poorly-erased runic markings evident on the smooth concrete floor. Opposite the door were two large chests, and Red noted others in the corners. Around the walls were set several bookcases, filled with volumes that looked far too old to be a regular in Barnes and Noble. Her curiosity piqued, Red chose a book at random and pulled it off its shelf.

The binding was ancient, a supple leather of some type, the strings holding it together yellowed with age and fraying. She opened it at random to a page covered in unidentifiable hieroglyphics and diagrams, flicked through to another page to find more of the same. Weird. She replaced it on the shelf and selected another.

This one too held the same sort of writings, and now Red was beginning to think it was an ancient language, though one she couldn’t possibly have begun to identify. She turned some pages; more of the same. She remembered an old manuscript she’d seen in the Metropolitan Museum of Art that looked similar, and her brain was suggesting Sumerian… but it could’ve been Chinese for all the difference that made to Red. She idly turned another page and almost dropped the book, for this was no writing but a vivid illustration – and it was of a demon.

She stared, transfixed, and the illustration seemed to move as she looked at it. Quickly Red closed the book, placing it back on the shelf with trembling fingers.

She moved to the chests next. The first was locked, and no key was evident. The second appeared to hold some personal belongings – a cloth, neatly folded, an amulet, some small old books. She’d hoped for more. She lifted out the cloth to see what was beneath, and two photos fell from inside. Both were yellow with age. Red picked one up, treating it carefully, and gasped in surprise. The picture depicted a woman wearing a long white dress with a high waistline directly below the bust, white gloves and a white bonnet. It was clear the photo was very old, but there was no mistaking the person depicted within: it was Anne. Red turned it over, examining it further, but could glean no more. The second was also of Anne, taken at another time though similarly attired, and this one had some writing on the back: Nantes, Juillet 1843.

Red let out a slow breath as she carefully wrapped the photos back up in the cloth.

What had Anne said? “As human as you are, dear. Perhaps a little older.”

Damian had chuckled, “An understatement.”

‘Witch’ indeed. It was scarcely believable, except that Anne’s life was full of ancient tomes of dead languages, magical mirrors and demons.

Red picked up one of the smaller books, flicking it open. It seemed to be a diary, entries scrawled in fading ink, the hand long and stylistic, reminiscent of an older time. It appeared to be written in French, a language Red couldn’t read. On a whim she pulled out her phone and took a picture, feeding the image through Google app to translate the text, but the writing was too faded, or too cursive, for any results.

She checked her phone: she’d used over half her time. She explored the rest of the room as best as she was able but found nothing further. Most of the chests were locked, and she had no way of prying them open. The books on the shelves were useless to her. Maybe if she had more time…

Answers, but no solutions. The trip hadn’t been a total waste, but close enough. Well… at least she’d had another mouthful of cum.

She left with a sigh, checking everything looked as it did before she arrived, and carefully closing the door behind her. The security guard leered at her as she handed back the key card and slapped her ass as she left, but all things considered that seemed fair.

Her Uber driver awaited, clearly quite content to hang around for another large tip. She remembered to sit in the front, pulled up the other address Trent had given her, and settled back for the ride.

Her mind was racing. Anne was a witch – Damian had said as much on several occasions, and it hadn’t sounded like a slur. Well, it had sounded like a slur when he’d said it, but it had also sounded like he’d meant it literally. The photo with her in it – and if it wasn’t her, she’d had an ancestor that was a spitting image; Red knew what she looked like well enough to be sure of that – made her almost two centuries old, and that assumed she hadn’t already extended her lifespan by the time her photo was taken in France. She could be even older.

Anne had books about demons, written in ancient languages. And what had Damian said? “We are done then, witch. Your debt is paid.”

Well. Red really had no idea why or how, but the what was clear enough: Anne traded girls like Red for favors with demons, had an unnaturally long life, magical powers, and behind it all lay the mirror with the grotesque, demonic visage that Red had first seen in the house, only a handful of days before.

So much had happened and in such a short time.

She texted Trent: Done at the warehouse. OMW. Any change?

The reply came back almost immediately. No, unless she left when I was getting your things, she’s still in there.

Red thought for a moment. She was committed. It was time to beard the… witch… in her den.

I’m coming to you. Be there in 40.

Either her plan would work, or Anne would subject her to numerous tortures for the rest of her life.

Red looked out the window at the passing view. This was it: the moment, the play.

All or nothing at all.

Trent was waiting across from Anne’s apartment, and Red had the Uber drop her off alongside.

“You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” Scared shitless, about to gamble my very life, and still I just say, ‘I’m fine.’

He nodded. “Find anything useful?”

“Not really. Some stuff you wouldn’t believe, but nothing that can help me.” She looked up at Anne’s apartment. “This is the only way.”

Again he nodded. “Got your stuff.” He handed over a heavy brown paper bag. “But Red… this is as far as I go. I can’t know – or be involved with – whatever happens next.”

She accepted the comforting weight of the bag. “You’ve done all I asked, Trent. Thank you.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Okay then. Well… good luck.”

She watched him walk away, then checked the contents of her bag: ear plugs, Bluetooth headphones, 9mm, suppressor, bullets. Trent was dependable. She took a deep breath and walked across the road.

Anne’s apartment block wasn’t quite in the league of Red’s, but it wasn’t far off. The lobby was nice, thought Red as she made her way across to the elevators. The concierge was occupied with some other visitors, and it seemed a terrible shame to interrupt him. She most certainly didn’t want to risk being announced. She pressed the call button and one elevator opened immediately. Red stepped in just as the concierge called ‘Miss!’, but by then it was a simple matter to press a floor number. A stroke of luck.

Floor 17, apartment B. As the elevator rose Red estimated she had about a minute. Should be enough. The earplugs went in, the gun came out. Safety check. Magazine check: full. Trent was good to his word. A round in the chamber. She knew her way around a pistol. Not the best shot, but… good enough for this. She’d never used a silencer before. It took her longer than she’d expected to thread it, and the elevator had begun to slow as she finished. Spare bullets in her empty back pocket. Jeans were useful for something; hardly anything else she owned had pockets.

The lift dinged open. Okay, a minute hadn’t been enough after all. She still had to sync the Bluetooth headset to her phone, but that took just a moment as she stepped out into the corridor. The gun was concealed down along her leg, but the corridor was empty. Good. Headset on. She pulled up Spotify and keyed in ‘Mars, the Bringer of War’ from Holst’s Planets: it was loud, long, and easy enough to ignore. And fitting. The music was muffled through her earplugs. She turned it up a notch.

Okay. Apartment 17B. Here we go.

She knocked twice, loudly… at least she thought it was loudly based on how hard she’d hit it and how much her fist felt the impact. Maybe she’d hammered. It was difficult to tell over the muffled Wagner. She couldn’t hear a thing. Perfect.

Red readied the pistol, firm in a two-handed grip with her finger resting lightly along the trigger guard, and waited. The suppressor made the gun a lot heavier than she was expecting, and the two-handed grip felt more secure.

One disadvantage of the ear get-up was that she couldn’t hear approaching footsteps, either from Anne’s apartment or from anyone in the corridor. She glanced from side to side, but she was clear for the moment. Her focus swung back to the door, and she braced herself.

The door began to open. Maybe it was Anne behind it, maybe it wasn’t, but she’d committed to her plan. Red pushed off her braced legs and hit the door with her shoulder. It flung backwards and she was in. Her eyes quickly swept the apartment: empty, save for Anne who was holding her arm in clear pain. The door had bounced off the wall and swung back to slam shut. Helpful. Also, she hadn’t heard it slam.

She raised the gun and pointed it at Anne, who merely frowned at her in disapproval. She held her arm with her other hand, and her lips moved.

This was the test. Red couldn’t hear Anne’s words. Was that all it took, or would Anne have other tricks up her sleeves? She’d clearly said something, but Red had no clue what. She also felt no overwhelming desire to pull her clothes off and grovel on the floor. Or whatever else Anne might have suggested.

She aimed the pistol at Anne with a straight-armed double-handed stance and carefully glanced around the room. She knew there’d be a mirror; maybe not the mirror, but somewhere Anne would have a mirror. She spied it from the corner of her eye and quickly looked away. It had been above a mantle, nothing obvious in her path. Red carefully walked backward, keeping the gun trained on Anne while keeping the mirror directly behind her.

“Sit down in that chair, Anne.” Red gestured with a nod.

Again Anne looked irritated, and silently mouthed another pithy comment. Typical of the woman; point a gun at her and she scolds you. It was no wonder she was single.

“I said sit down.” Red steadied the gun on Anne’s centre mass. “You know I have nothing to lose; you made sure of that. Don’t fuck around with a woman holding a gun who has nothing left to lose, Anne. If you don’t sit down, or I feel any strange tingles or a sudden compulsion to start licking, I’m going to test if witches die only if burned at the stake, or whether nine rounds in the head from a Beretta 92 also works.”

Anne straightened her shoulders, her lips pressing into the thin line Red had seen before. Again she spoke, and though Red couldn’t hear her, the words she said were easy to lip read: ‘You won’t kill me.’

“Last chance. You’ve got three seconds, and then we’re going to find out if you’re right or not. And I’m not fucking around. One.” Red cocked the hammer, knowing the trigger would have moved into its single-action position.

Anne looked exasperated but began to move toward the chair Red had indicated.

“Two.” Red was happy with the progress, but a little motivation goes a long way. She followed Anne’s movements with the barrel of the gun.

Anne wasn’t quite seated by the time ‘three’ would’ve come around, but Red made allowances for the obvious pain of her arm and the stiffness of her movement. However old Anne actually was, she had the body of a 40-something, and maybe her arm actually hurt. Good.

Red kept the gun on Anne with one hand and with the other pulled the ball gag from her front pocket. Trent hadn’t need to acquire it; Anne had delivered that part of Red’s equipment herself.

“Put this on. I’m going to give you the count of ten. The gag, or the bullets; one or the other is going in your mouth. You choose.” Red was surprised at herself. She’d anticipated having to fight her nerves, perhaps second-guessing herself when faced with the reality of the situation she’d engineered, but she knew her voice was steady, her tone strong, even if she couldn’t hear it.

She tossed the ball gag onto Anne’s lap. “One.”

Again Anne glared at her, but she picked up the ball gag and began to seat it between her teeth. Red had only reached ‘four’ as Anne reached behind her own head to buckle it in place.

“Make sure that’s tight, dear. Five.”

It was perhaps fortunate that witches couldn’t cast spells with their eyes, for otherwise Red would’ve been in trouble after that comment.

Anne was finished by the count of eight. Red pulled the bundle of jute rope from her back pocket, the last of her equipment and also thoughtfully provided by Anne. She threw it over.

She’d chosen this chair for a reason: it had arms. “Place your right wrist on the arm of the chair and loop the rope around at least four times. Keep it tight, I’ll be watching. Do I need to count?”

Anne picked up the rope with another glare, and Red watched closely. But it seemed she was obeying as Red had instructed. Red waited until she’d finished then carefully approached from Anne’s right. The barrel of the gun went against Anne’s head and she walked around her slowly, keeping contact all the while. Anne sat still, unmoving, and Red began to think that perhaps her risky plan would work after all. This part of it, at least.

It took but a moment to wrap the rope around the other wrist, but then came the part where Red had to tie the knot, and that meant releasing the hammer and putting the gun down. Yet Anne sat passively as Red finished, and Red breathed a sigh of relief. She picked up the gun once more.

It was tempting to remove the headset; there was only so much Holst anyone could take, even with plugged ears, but it was an unnecessary risk. The stakes were simply too high.

Now it was merely a case of finding Anne’s mirror. Anne had never been Red’s target; it was the mirror she’d come to destroy. Killing Anne was the last-ditch desperate alternative, and one she wanted to avoid. Red wasn’t sure if she could do it, if it came to that. She hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Red glanced around the room. She’d only picked up impressions thus far, being rather more focused on Anne. A large dining table, with more chairs similar to the one in which Anne now sat, tied. A three-piece suite set around a glass coffee table. Some doors leading to the rest of the apartment. Behind Red was the mantle, with the mirror above. She didn’t need to see that again.

No sign of the mirror. She’d have to search.

“I’m going to take a look around. I’ll be checking on you regularly. If I see you move, even slightly, we’ll be testing the ‘you can’t die’ theory. Nod if you understand.”

Anne nodded.

Red breathed out slowly. She’d gambled on Anne accepting the ‘nothing to lose’ line, for it was most certainly true. So true, in fact, that Red might even have fired had Anne made a move. She didn’t know; she never wanted to find out. So far Anne had bought Red’s bluff, and that was what mattered.

The first room was the kitchen. Nothing there. She checked Anne hadn’t moved before opening the second door.

The second room was Anne’s bedroom, and immediately Red lowered her eyes. There’d be a mirror in here somewhere, and whether or not it was the mirror she couldn’t take the chance of looking into it. She knew the mirror could control her as well as Anne had done, and that could be disastrous.

She edged slowly into the room, moving her eyes slowly and cautiously. Bed. Dressing table against the wall, and… yes, a mirror in its centre. Red turned her back to it. Another mirror against the far wall, dammit… she had to keep her eyes down. But the mirror she sought didn’t seem to be there, and she backed out slowly closing the door behind her. Her pulse was racing, her breath coming in pants as though she’d hit the treadmill. Damn, this was tough.

A quick glance into the main room; Anne hadn’t moved. That was a blessing.

Red worked her way through the apartment; it didn’t take long. There was nothing to find.

She’d gambled everything on finding the mirror, on being able to destroy the mirror, and there was nothing here!

Red leant against a wall, the gun held against her leg, her hopes dashed. She felt drained, helpless. Her only recourse was to shoot Anne, and she still didn’t know if she was capable of it. Would Anne stop merely from a threat? Red couldn’t guarantee it, and if Anne was ever again able to compel her, it would be a simple matter to say, ‘You will never threaten me again,’ and that would be the end of it. No, a mere threat wouldn’t work.

She felt tears of frustration prickle her eyes. Where was that fucking mirror?! It hadn’t been in the warehouse, it wasn’t here. Surely it wasn’t still in the other house, across the full length of the country? If it was, this had all been for nothing, and Red was doomed.

She took a steadying breath and lifted the gun again. One more card to play.

Red walked in, the gun pointed at Anne, and stood in front of her. “I’m going to give you the count of three to nod with your head towards the location of the mirror. And be warned: I’m seriously fucked off.”

Anne simply looked back at her, unmoving. A trail of drool dropped from the ball gag and fell onto her already-damp blouse.

“One.”

No response.

“Two.”

Anne closed her eyes slowly.

“Three.”

The gun went off, the glass coffee table shattered. Anne twitched slightly in reflex, but was otherwise unmoving, and her eyes remained closed.

Fuck it! Red felt like screaming. She’d bluffed, and Anne had called. She couldn’t shoot her, she couldn’t find the mirror. It was over.

She sobbed as the frustration swept through her. She was out of options. Her plan had only taken her this far; she’d thought she would find the mirror here.

Red didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t think, even the damn Holst was getting to her. She longed to pull the headset off, to smash something, to scream. If she left, Anne had won. But what else could she do?

Anne opened her eyes, watching her with a knowing expression. She’d realized Red couldn’t kill her – perhaps she’d known all along. Maybe it was part of her magic, for all Red knew. Or maybe bullets wouldn’t work. Maybe Red had never stood a chance.

Red turned away, unable to look at Anne, and as she did so she inadvertently faced the mirror.

Immediately her gaze was captured. She couldn’t look away. Fuck it, fuck it! The mirror was controlling her, and now she really was completely screwed.

Yet the mirror was showing something… strange. It was Red, dressed in her jeans and hoodie, her headset distinctive, her gun still in her hand, walking across the room to a light fixture on a wall. The Red in the mirror pulled the light fixture and it swung down, and as it did a segment of the wall slid out and along.

Red watched, her eyes wide, and suddenly she was able to move again. A secret room! Had the mirror just helped her?!

It took but a moment to locate the light fixture she’d been shown. She walked to it in measured steps and grasped it with one hand. There was a movement in the corner of her eye; she glanced over. Anne was frantically shaking her head. It was the most emotional display Anne had ever demonstrated.

Red turned away and pulled. As the mirror had shown her, the light fixture came away from the wall as if on a hinge, and directly before Red the wall shifted, then slid slowly to the side.

And there, standing innocuously before a comfortable-looking sofa, stood the mirror Red had first seen in the house, a handful of days and a lifetime ago. As if in slow motion she lifted her gun, spread her feet, steadied her stance, and fired. And fired. The mirror shattered, glass flying about the small secret room, and even the frame splintered as Red emptied the magazine. The gun clicked empty, and Red lowered her arm.

It was over.

She turned to face Anne.

Anne was staring at the shattered mirror behind Red, fixated. And though the ball-gag scrunched up her features, it wasn’t anger or dismay or shock that seemed to be the prevalent emotion, but fear.

Red’s brow furrowed. Why would Anne be afraid…?

Something struck Red from behind, seeming to pass through and then into her. She tried to draw a breath but couldn’t. For an instant her limbs felt frozen; her heart, her mind, even the very blood in her veins felt like she’d be dipped in liquid helium.

And then all hell exploded.

A blast emanated from Red and tore through Anne’s apartment. Red was dimly aware of the furniture flying away, Anne in her chair knocked over, the end of the sofa near her shredded, the mirror above the mantel shattered, and then she was falling, her sight dimming, and there was nothing but blackness.

Consciousness came back slowly. Red realized she was lying crumpled on the floor and tried to stand, but she couldn’t move. She was also conscious of the carpet on which she lay, and it was bare skin that pressed into it. Which meant she was naked… not a good sign. Had Anne somehow got free and compelled her again?

No… she could see Anne’s chair before her, still upturned, and Anne struggling to free herself, one arm already loose.

And then she discovered she wasn’t naked, per se; her clothes were still on her, merely shredded to the point where only remnants of the fabric remained. Her headset was gone who-knew where. Even her earplugs hadn’t survived the blast.

Red’s body slowly stood, and yet she’d made no effort to do so. One hand picked a large piece of what was left of her hoodie from her arm, and dropped it on the floor, but Red hadn’t controlled it.

You’re not in control anymore. I am.

Red couldn’t speak, couldn’t reply. She couldn’t even scream.

Thank you for freeing me, Red. For too long I’ve been in that cursed mirror.

Her body walked towards Anne’s chair, and Red could only watch. It was as if she was merely a passenger. She felt the carpet under her feet, yet couldn’t affect where she stepped. She was aware of her breathing, aware of her pulse – a slow, steady beat. Much slower than usual. Yet she couldn’t so much as wiggle a finger.

“Greetings, Anneliese. It has been some time,” Red’s voice came from her own mouth, but she’d said nothing. She was a prisoner in her own mind. The desire to scream was overwhelming.

Be quiet, Red. Let me deal with Anneliese. We’ll talk in a moment.

Anne was lying on the carpet in the remnants of the chair. Her skin showed bloody flecks in numerous places, but clearly the explosion of power had a short range; while Red’s clothing had been completely shredded, and the end of the sofa near where she’d stood had all-but dissolved, Anne’s clothes were merely torn. One arm was free of the rope, and her fingers were working at the buckle of the gag. She spat it out as Red watched.

“Aelirith,” and Anne’s tone was full of fear. “You fool, Red! You freed her! And now… now she has you.”

“Indeed. It seems our respective situations have changed, witch. How long have I waited for this moment.”

Anne’s fingers scrabbled desperately at the rope binding her other wrist, but Red’s body – or Aelirith, as Anne had called her – merely leant down, a hand reaching to the arm of the chair, and the wood crumbled in her fist. Aelirith pulled the rope free, tossing it away.

Anne scrambled to her knees in the ruins of the chair, kneeling on the carpet before Red.

“Forgive me, please,” and rarely had Red witnessed a more abject creature.

Aelirith laughed, and the laugh sounded just like Red’s own. “I believe the correct response is ‘I am not the forgiving type, dear.’”

“Have mercy… I beg you.”

Red – Aelirith – smiled. “You still have your uses, witch. And with the mirror destroyed, you have nothing with which to bind me again. I will let you live… for today. You have a debt to repay, if it takes you the rest of your life.”

Anne suddenly let out a keening sob, and for a moment Red mistook it as a sound of relief. “My life! My youth!” Anne cried, and another violent sob wracked her body.

“I’m sure you’ll find another way. I know you still have the demon books. You’ve always been resourceful, Anneliese.”

Anne merely sobbed, not acknowledging Aelirith’s words.

“Oh… before I leave… a compulsion for you. One you would have been wise to use yourself. Listen closely, dear. You are never to raise a hand to me again. You are forbidden from harming me, directly, indirectly, or through lack of thought, word or deed.” Red’s head nodded. “That should hold you until I am ready to deal with you.”

Fuck, I’m hungry. What is there to eat around here?

Red would’ve blinked in surprise if she could still control her eyes.

Red? What is there to eat around here?

Anne was kneeling on the carpet, sobbing.

Red? You just have to think.

Red didn’t know what to think. Her body was clearly no longer hers, but she was still… here. Somehow. In her own mind.

Yes. We’re sharing it now. Well… now it’s mine, but you’re still here. I guess you could say we’re roomies. Besties. Best friends… forever. A hint of laughter followed the thought. I’m hungry.

Red focused, thinking hard. There’s… um… I think I saw a 7-11 near the apartment.

We can find food there?

Um… yes. It was like thinking aloud. Not difficult once she’d got the hang of it. Please may I ask… who are you?

I am Aelirith, as you probably gathered. But that’s a name for another eon, another place. Call me… Air. No, Ali. Yes. Call me Ali.

And… um… what are you?

Enough with the ‘um’ this and ‘um’ that, Red. We’re going to be together a while, and it’s already tedious. Don’t be so tentative. Show some backbone, will you?

Sorry.

I’m a succubus. I’m a demon. I control through seduction and sex, and it was through me that Anne was able to compel you… as she had many others, for a very long time. She was able to borrow and harness my magic.

Oh. Well, that explained… everything, actually. Almost everything. Why?

Because she forced me to grant her eternal youth in return for the sexual energy she fed me – energy I needed to stay alive.

So you were her captive? Red thought.

Yes, and the bitterness in her mind-voice came through clearly.

Red looked down at Anne through Aelirith – Ali’s – eyes. What will happen to her now?

Oh, she’ll find a way. I wouldn’t worry about Anneliese. Or Anne, I suppose I should call her. Names are such transient things.

What will happen to me now?

Let’s worry about that later. I’ve been stuck in that cursed mirror for three centuries, and I’m famished.

So… you’re the one who has been controlling me through the mirrors!

Yes. That was obvious, right? Again Ali sounded amused, and Red realized she could sense her amusement too – as though she could read her mind. Which she could, because it was her mind. Their mind. It was fucking confusing is what it was.

Red’s body – or Ali, as she now was – made her way across Anne’s apartment and pulled open the door. Outside in the corridor stood a janitor, his cleaning trolley beside him, a vacuum cleaner in one hand.

He turned and looked at Red, his eyes widening as he took in her nakedness.

Ali smiled. “Oh my gosh, you’re perfect!”

“¿Qué?”

“Eres perfecto! ¿Tienes que limpiar ahora mismo? Puedo pensar en… cosas más interesantes que hacer." Red didn’t speak a word of Spanish, but apparently Ali shared no such shortcoming, and though Red didn’t know the language, they shared one mind. She knew exactly what Ali had said: ‘Do you have to clean right now? I can think of… more interesting things to do.’

Ali slowly stroked her fingers down between her breasts, and Red felt every touch as though it was her own fingers. And it was. But it wasn’t. And it was a complete mind-fuck.

The janitor watched, his eyes wide.

Ali took one nipple between her fingers and twisted sharply. That hurts, thought Red.

Ali made a little gasp of arousal. Trust me, that’s not pain. Besides, I know you enjoyed that flogger.

Red sighed within her mind. Great, I’m in here with a sadomasochist.

I’d be offended, but… well, I’m a succubus. I like all sorts of things. Oh, and I can hear everything you think.

Red decided she’d just stay quiet.

I heard that.

“What did you have in mind?” the janitor asked. Sure it was in Spanish, but if Ali could understand it, Red could too.

A brief while later Red/Ali walked out of the apartment block wearing the uniform of a janitor. His overalls had been too large, but with the belt knotted around Red/Ali’s slim waist, they would do.

Red had found it difficult to persuade Ali to put on clothes. Far harder than it had been for Ali to persuade the janitor to take them off. She’d thought about social proprietary, fashion, images of other people being dressed, and the concept of being arrested. Ali had quite enjoyed the latter, considering the possibilities of handcuffs, prison cells, cavity searches and dominant policemen. Red had needed to explain that if that happened, they couldn’t simply leave when they wished; they’d be trapped again.

Ali had scoffed at the idea of mere bars and walls holding them, but she’d quietened after Red had explained the concept of wanted posters.

It seemed Ali knew many things instinctively – such as Spanish – but had some gaps when it came to, well, the twenty-first century. She talked like she belonged, but didn’t know what the internet was.

I only deal with people, Red. Sex isn’t about things so much. Well, some things, obviously. She giggled inside Red’s mind, which was unnerving.

There were quite a few stares as they walked barefoot down the street, but Red had needed to compromise, and so the overalls were unzipped down almost to their navel, and much of Red’s breasts were now fully on display.

Don’t you just love all these looks? It makes me even more horny, and I’m still so hungry.

We just ate. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that the 7-11 didn’t sell the kind of food Ali wanted.

Oh, Manuel was an appetizer. He came so quickly. And I know just how much you enjoyed the taste of his cum.

Red couldn’t deny the truth of that, but she’d worked out it had never been her addiction. It had always been Ali’s. It was Red’s now, though, with Ali in control. Why did you have to drain him?

I’m a succubus, honey.

Yes, but… you could’ve killed him.

And I still don’t know why I let you stop me.

Red focused hard. You can’t just go around killing people.

I can do whatever I want. Ali stopped them in the middle of the sidewalk, one hand slipping inside the overalls, her fingers caressing their breast. A man in a suit did a double-take as he walked by.

Can you feel that, Red? She flicked their finger over their nipple.

Yes. You know I can. But we can’t…

Do you like it?

…Yes. Red could feel Ali’s arousal, but it was her arousal too. They blended together. You know I do.

Yes. I know you do. We’re going to be together a while… decades… centuries, maybe. She ran their hands down their body, and Red felt every touch as though she’d done it herself. This body won’t age with me at its helm. You can come along for the ride and share the experience, or go quietly mad in the corner of our mind… in which case I’ll just shut you out. It’s up to you, really. Are you up for some fun?

Will you kill people?

Ali began walking again, What difference does it make? Everyone dies.

Red was silent for a moment.

You’re not silent at all, sweetie. Ali thought to her, I can still hear what you’re thinking. You’re worried that killing is wrong, which is ridiculous of course.

It is wrong! Red insisted to her. Why couldn’t Ali see that?

It’s just killing, Red. People die every day. People die while we’ve been walking down this street.

If we kill people, I’ll go mad. Oh, maybe not immediately, but… eventually. The weight of all those deaths will drive me insane. I know it will. Is that what you want? To spend eternity with me insane in the corner of your mind?

The succubus sighed, and Red felt it both mentally and physically. Very well. I make no promises, but… we’ll try an ‘only if I have to’.

I’m going to need promises, Red countered.

Ali laughed, drawing some strange looks from those around her. You’re a pushy thing. I like that. Ok… I promise not to kill someone unless we need to for our safety and survival.

Red felt a sense of success. She might only be a passenger in her body, but at least she’d got Ali to concede that commitment. Small wins.

And yet, as she had the thought, she sensed Ali’s response too. Something she’d said had alarmed the succubus. What was it?

You didn’t alarm me. I’m the one in control.

But that wasn’t true either. Ali was alarmed, she could tell.

“But you always were a perceptive one, weren’t you dear?”

Ugh, Ali thought, did you just have a memory recall from Anne in my head? I feel like I threw up in my mouth.

Red giggled inside her head… which felt weird. And then she focused.

Stop it, Ali thought.

She focused harder.

Ali stopped walking, and slowly, inexorably, her hand came to rest on the zipper of their overalls. And pulled it up. An inch. And another. Then it slid all the way to the top.

Red was pushed back, as if shoved into a corner.

Don’t do that, Ali thought at her.

But she’d made her point. She didn’t need to try again. It was enough that she had, that she could.

Fine, fine. So you can fight me for control and manage to zip us up a bit more. Ali pulled the zip down far enough to show a healthy amount of cleavage once more.

But Red knew it was more than that. She’d grow stronger over time. She could contest Ali. She might even be able to…

No. Stop right there. That you will never be able to do. I’m centuries older than you, honey, and I will win. But… I don’t want us to fight. Let’s make this easy. We’re sharing this mind, this body. Will you agree to 50:50? Cooperation, not competition?

Do I get a say in what we do?

The succubus smiled, physically, emotionally and mentally: her lips moved, while Red simultaneously received a strong impression of amusement. Sure, why not. We’re going to be together for a very long time – may as well be friends. I don’t mind suggestions, but I’m in control. I get the veto. You do the advice-thing, and I’ll do the decision-thing. We’ll listen to each other and find the balance that works for us both. How does that sound?

It sounds like 30:70, not 50:50.

Ali grinned. 49:51, okay?

Immortality… to see the world change, to experience all that would happen, to do so alongside a being as powerful as this. It was not the life Red had ever envisioned… but it was far from a bad one.

What the hell. Sounds good to me. And hey… if you’re still looking for someone to drain… do you remember Alfie?

THE END

━━━━༻❁༺━━━━

Alyx, My Girlfriend's Sister

Juan de Casa

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