Conquering Phobos

“No,” Aimee whispered, her eyes wide with horror as she stared at the contraption before her.

“Calm down,” David said, “and lets talk about this.”

Aimee looked up at the man that she called “Master.” The height difference that usually made her feel safe and secure was turning ugly with every passing moment. His looming presence was feeling more like an ogre from legend than a saint. At just under six feet, David was not a tall man, but he still towered over her by at least a foot.

Taking an inadvertent step backwards, Aimee covered her naked breasts with her arms, causing David to lift an eyebrow. Her heartbeat was now pounding in her ears as she glanced behind her, searching for an escape route. The stairs were behind her, right where she had left them. She took another step backwards, this one on purpose.

“Calm down, Aimee. I’m not going to hurt you.”

But wasn’t that what all masters said? Her last master had said it. So had the one before that. Aimee’s breathing was rapid and shallow, and she felt as if she could not get enough air.

Time was beginning to blur for her, and her memories were crashing into the present. She had covered her breasts, hiding them from her master. Why did he not strike her? All masters do. Her previous two would have had her strung up by now as they yelled in her face, exerting their dominant position over her. David just stood their, with a concerned expression on his face.

“You’re going to hyperventilate,” he said, “calm down!”

Aimee glanced back down at the contraption on the floor. She recognized it. It was a vacuum bed, which meant the inside was a very confined space. David was going to hurt her! He was betraying her trust!

The leather collar on her throat was irritating her neck, and it felt as if its weight would topple her over. Without thinking, her hand went to its back and fingered the padlock. She desperately wanted it off, but it was locked on.

“Aimee, calm down!” David said again, but his words meant nothing to her at that moment. He was an evil giant, and he was showing mock concern. Unable to contain the panic, Aimee turned and darted up the stairs, running away from him. Running away from danger. Tearing through the house, she flung herself into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

Aimee cowered down behind the toilet, and pulled her knees to her chest. Then the tears came, followed by sobs and wails. Any moment now, her master would come to the door and start pounding away, yelling at her for disobeying him. She could feel the collar around her neck, and it was bothering her. Pulling at it, she tried to remove the damned thing. For several minutes she tried, but to no avail. But did it really matter if it came off? She was already marked as his property in other ways; like her breasts.

At David’s request, she had had surgery, enlarging them from an A cup to a C, the largest that her petite frame could handle. Their very size marked her as his property, didn’t they? Yes they did! He made her get fake tits!

A small voice in the back of her mind started to speak up. It was no more than a squeak, but it was their. He didn’t make you do anything! it said, You did it because you love him. You willingly followed his order.

Any moment now, David will start pounding on the door and demanding that she open it. Of course he would. All masters do.

Then there was her hair. It was blonde now, long and platinum. He always made her change its color and style every couple of months, and he always picked it out, just like he chose her clothing when they go out together. Her hair had been every color from jet black to red, from hot pink to royal purple. He made her do this!

But he could care less, the voice in her mind said, he does it for you. So you feel more like a slave. Without thinking, Aimee’s hand started playing with the lock of her collar once again.

Why was he not pounding on the door? Did he not care?

Locked within the security of the bathroom, Aimee’s breathing slowed down to normal, and her mind started to become coherent once again. Why was he not at the door? Finally, the answer came to her tortured mind: because he would not. Her previous two owners would have, but not David. Not Master. He refused to get into an argument with anybody. “It is just two parties trying to dominate the other with their voice,” he always said, “with neither one listening.” Master would not break the door down because he would wait for her anger or fear to pass, and then discuss it rationally. Only after he understood her concern would he punish her, if she deserved it.

Aimee felt her face turn a bright shade of crimson as she realized that she did deserve punishment. She had covered herself! She had locked herself into the bathroom! She had run from him! New tears started to form in her eyes as her sense of embarrassment became worse.

Finally noticing that her hand was playing with the lock, Aimee suddenly felt glad that it was there. After collecting all her strength, she stood up and prepared to unlock the door. She knew exactly where he was: on the other side of it, waiting.

As she opened the door, Aimee saw her master sitting in a chair by the bathroom. He had been listening to her, making sure she did not hyperventilate. Or worse. Quickly, she fell to her knees and crawled to him, where she knelt and kept her eyes downcast.

“I’m ready to be punished, Master,” she said after a long silence.

“Do you know what ‘manslaughter’ is?” he asked. Master did that all the time. He would say things that came from left field.

“When you accidentally kill someone with your car.”

“No, that’s vehicular homicide. Manslaughter is murder in the heat of passion. If a husband catches his wife in bed with another man, and then he bludgeons the two of them to death with his briefcase, then that is manslaughter. The courts understand that emotions make us behave in odd ways. Now if the man quietly shuts the door, goes for a walk, purchases a handgun, and then shoots the two of them, then that is first degree murder, because he had time to think. Understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“I will not punish you because you were acting in hysterics, and understandably so. Aimee, when I put you in the cage for the first time, I stayed with you the whole time. When I put you in the crate, it was the same thing. Both times, you made it out alive, and actually enjoyed the experience. The vacuum bed is the next natural step. I will be there with you the whole time, and you will be fine.”

“Alright Master,” Aimee said, thinking straight but still feeling ice in her chest.

“Let’s give this a try now, shall we?”

Aimee’s heart skipped a beat. He was not waiting. They were going to get this over with now. Taking a deep breath, she answered in the affirmative.

With his hand on her collar ring, Aimee’s master led her back down the stairs, where she saw the contraption. It was a rectangular frame of pipes large enough for a human being, with red latex stretched across it. A shopvac’s hose was already attached , waiting to suck the air out from between the two layers of latex. It would be so tight that Aimee would be unable to move. Her heart was pounding with vengeance, so she started taking deep breaths, like her master had taught her to do.

Near the vacbed’s edge, Master grabbed her hair and planted a firm kiss on her lips, raping her mouth as he did. Her soul melted as usual, and it instilled her with a little more confidence. “Remember, little one,” he said, his voice as gentle as ever, “I will be here with you the whole time. There will be no games, no safe words. Not a single banana or pickle. If you panic and want out, just say so, and I will release you. But please focus and try not to panic.”

With that, Master helped her slide between the two layers of latex. It was so tight already! She felt her breath quicken, but her master put a hand on her for reassurance. “Here’s the hole,” he said, pointing it out, “put your mouth over, and remember to breath.”

“Yes, Master,” she said, as he closed her inside. Her hands were palm down at her side, with her arms spread slightly. Focus, she thought, as her fear was getting the worst of her. After a moment of deep breaths, she managed to gain control of herself once again.

Aimee could feel her master above her, resting his hand gently over her breast. A slight pang of guilt stabbed her heart as she thought about how she had acted such a short while ago. Not all masters ruled with violence. David, her real master, ruled through respect!

“Are you ready?” he asked suddenly, yanking Aimee back to the present. No, she was not ready, but would she ever be? It just had to be done. After closing her eyes, she swallowed hard, and answered.

“Yes, Master.” She then heard the roar of the vacuum, and the latex pressed in on her from all sides, as if she were an item of merchandise being shrink wrapped. Instantly, her heart started racing and her breathing had seized up in her chest.

“Breath!” he said, but it was easier said than done. With tremendous will, she took her first breath, and then her second. After a moment, she was breathing again. It was rapid, but she was breathing. Aimee was not even sure when Master turned the vacuum off. He simply place his hand on her abdomen, and leaned over her until she could sense his presence above her face.

“Are we OK?” he asked. His voice seemed to be far away, and yet, she felt him directly above her.

“Yes, Master,” she said, the words sounding funny to her own ears. Eventually, her fear subsided, and she tried to move. It was futile. Aimee was sealed tight between the two layers, rendering no movement possible except a slight twitch here and there.

Then the torment came, and it was sweet torture indeed. Master’s loving caress was tracing her outline on the outside of the latex. His hands circled toward her breasts, and he forced a gasp from her when he found her nipples. As he lingered over them, Aimee felt the familiar heat from between her legs. Her sex was responding quicker than usual. She tried to squirm, desperate to close her legs and start rubbing them together. Oh how it ached down there! She needed to touch it, but it was not hers to fondle. Through the latex, Master was once again drilling that point into her head. Aimee yearned for her Master, craving his possessive touch. But he would not give it to her so easily.

His touch was teasing as it came close to the target, but never made contact. Master caressed her legs, her arms, even her cheeks, and each touch brought with it an ever greater tingle between her legs. Her breasts and nipples were frequently attacked, pushing her farther and farther into the floating oblivion that only kinky slaves knew. Aimee was no longer in the vacbed, she was now floating in a cloud, one that squeezed her body gently, holding her as immobile as she had ever been.

Without warning, Master’s hands found her sex, and it exploded into the first of many orgasms.

28.07.09