Slaves Don't Need Visas Ch. 31
Posted: Fri Jan 31, 2025 7:26 pm
31. The Cost of Rescue
Upon entering Markus's home, the atmosphere was charged with the reality of their new dynamic. The door shut with a creaky thud, the wooden frame protesting slightly against the motion, sealing them into a space where Markus's ownership was feelable. The house was quiet.
For Melissa, stepping into Markus's home was like walking into a trap she had no choice but to enter. Her heart was heavy with the realization that her life was now in Markus's hands, and her body was his to command. She felt a mix of resignation, fear, and strategic thinking, knowing that her survival might depend on navigating this new reality with care. She had mentally prepared herself for this moment. She understood that Markus would want to have sex with her now.
Markus approached her, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek, a gesture of possession mingled with care. "Melissa," he said, his voice trying to bridge the gap between affection and control, "I've always cared for you. Now, we can be together, like I've always wanted."
Melissa felt a bit of gratitude amidst her turmoil. Markus had been the one to save her from repossession, from a life in the Grabesian slave system. She didn't desire him, but she recognized his act as one of salvation in this twisted context. "I know, Markus," she responded, her eyes avoiding his.
—
As he led her to the bedroom, his touch on her arm almost felt like a lifeline to some semblance of normalcy. But the feeling was tainted by the knowledge of her servitude. Her enslaved status turned this gesture that would otherwise have been an invitation into a chain that bound her.
The room was simple, the bed a clear reminder of what was expected of her. Markus stood next to the bed and pulled her gently towards him. His hands were at her waist with a familiarity that was both comforting and invasive.
Melissa didn't resist. Instead, she allowed herself to feel his touch, starved as she was for any sign of affection after days of isolation and fear. She knew his motives were self-serving, but at this moment, the sensual touch offered a brief escape from her reality.
"I want this to be good for you too," Markus murmured, his voice a mix of longing and the hope that this could be more than just Melissa submitting to his ownership of her. He kissed her, and while Melissa didn't reciprocate with passion, she didn't recoil. Instead, she found a strange comfort in the physical closeness. And although she knew that this would be about his satisfaction and not hers, her body responded, not out of desire but out of a deep-seated need for connection, any connection.
He positioned her on the bed face down and spread her buttcheeks to get a good view of her most intimate parts. This was more than an inspection of the goods, it was him exercising his right to access her most intimate parts unchallenged. Something she would previously never have allowed. But now she was his by right, and he wanted her to acquiesce to this to prove her commitment to her new role to him.
She felt like livestock being inspected on a market by a buyer. Melissa felt the cool sheets on her skin. She had already decided that she would not resist. She had agreed to be his slave, even if it had been to save herself from a worse fate. Now she had to play her part and allow him to use her body for his pleasure.
With his hands he held her buttocks spread, revealing what he had previously been denied in their free life but had now purchased. Her clean anus and the pink hue of her labia stirred his excitement for what was next. He was thrilled that he owned her.
He leaned close to playfully nip at her buttock and enjoyed the sensation of her skin. Then he gently lay upon her, mindful not to press too hard, and began kissing near her ear tag, moving down her neck until he reached her collar.
Then he turned her on her back. He wanted to see her face when they had sex. He looked at her front side. Her lush hair splayed across the sheets, her pretty face with a dispassionate expression looking at him, his collar on her neck marking her as his and the smooth tanned skin of her body. After being naked for so long, her skin was a uniform tan, even in her most private areas. The skin of her breasts, her navel on her flat stomach up to the thin sheet of her vagina’s wiry pubic hair all had the same tone of tanned white skin.
Still dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, he lay on her, kissing her mouth, then each breast, sucking gently on her nipples before moving to her vagina, kissing and lightly licking her clitoris.
He stood up to remove his clothes, then laid himself flat on Melissa, reveling in the contact of their naked bodies. He nuzzled his cheek against hers before tenderly kissing her lips.
He positioned his legs between hers, using his to spread her legs wider. He pressed his erect penis against the entrance of her vagina. He felt some resistance, but his hardness allowed him to push in slowly. He heard Melissa moan in discomfort.
Markus paused. With a soft tone, he said, "I'll make this easier," and reached over to the nightstand. The drawer creaked as he opened it, pulling out a small bottle of lubricant.
"This will help," he whispered. He uncapped the bottle and the scent of the lube, slightly medicinal, filled the room. His fingers applied the gel, and she felt the cold liquid on her warm skin of her vaginal entrance. "It'll be smoother now," he whispered.
He returned to her and their naked bodies touched again. He kissed her tenderly on her cheek and her lips, then parted her legs again with his. He pushed his erect penis against the entrance of her vagina. The resistance faded as the slick gel coated everything and allowed him to enter her more easily.
Once fully in, he held still inside her to wait for her to adapt. He continued to press his body against hers and kiss her.
Soon he was unable to resist and began to move inside her. The friction was less now, his movements smoother. Eventually, her body began to respond, her vagina became more loose and moist, allowing him to thrust with more ease and more comfort for Melissa.
He held her tightly as he climaxed within her. Then he rolled off and laid down next to her.
Melissa laid on the bed next to him. She was his now, not just in law but in this intimate, personal way. She already was his property, a fact that chilled her to the bone every time she felt the weight of the collar around her neck. But this... this was different. This had been Markus asserting his dominion over her in the most private, most personal of ways. It wasn't just her actions or her days that he now controlled; it was her very essence, her body that was now subjected to his desires. He had touched the core of her being as if he could reach out to her soul. The weight of Markus's control, now intimately sealed, felt like an invisible chain tightening around her soul. She was his, in the most profound, invasive way.
The act was over quickly, not as spectacular as Markus had imagined, but she belonged to him now, and he was confident that with time, their encounters would become more satisfying as they became more familiar with one another.
—
Melissa sat up in bed. She broke the silence with a question that had been gnawing at her since they had left the police station. "Markus, will you expect me to kneel in front of you? Like they do here?"
Markus looked at her, his eyes flickering with a mix of discomfort and resolve. "When we're alone, Mel, I want us to be... well, like we used to be. Like equals. But out there, in Grabesh, it's different. People here expect certain behaviors. It's not about weakness or strength; it's about fitting in, not standing out in a way that could cause problems for us."
And even though Melissa had knelt in the presence of free people for the last few weeks, and she recognized the pragmatic side of his reasoning, she was still furious that Markus would ask this of her. "So, in public, I'm to be your slave, not your partner?"
Markus sighed, his hands clasping together as if to hold onto his argument. "I know it sounds harsh, but it's how things are here, Mel. We need to follow the local customs. But here, in our home, you're with me because I care about you, not because I want to show off some power."
Melissa nodded slowly while she tried to come to terms with this.
"And how long do you think this 'following local customs' will last, Markus? How long until you decide I don't have to kneel anymore?"
Markus hesitated, his gaze drifting before returning to her. "I don't know, Melissa. But I hope... I hope we can find a way to live here that you can accept."
Melissa looked at him with a complex mix of emotions - resignation, anger, but also a reluctant understanding. "I hope so, Markus. I need to know that I won’t be kneeling before ‘free people’ for the rest of my life."
—
The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows over the sandy pathways leading to Tariq and Amina's mudhut. Markus and Melissa walked in silence, with both of them in thought.
Tariq and Amina were sitting outside. Their faces lit up at the sight of Melissa. The relief to see her was evident in their smiles. "Melissa, Markus!" Tariq called out, standing up to welcome them. "We're so glad to see you. We heard you got out of that mess at the station."
Amina nodded. Her eyes scanned Melissa, perhaps looking for signs of the misery she had endured. "Yes, we were worried when we heard Markus was bidding on you. But knowing he got you out of there is such a relief!"
Tariq greeted them with a broad smile, "How did you manage to get the money transferred so quickly? Arbek was dealing with all sorts of delays."
Markus explained, "The pensioners, Horst and Werner, they transfer money all the time. They connected me with someone at the FinTech company they use who sorted this out for me."
Tariq was curious. “Oh, I didn’t know that was possible. Can you show me what company that is? That would have been useful for Arbek.”
“Guys, I’m Markus’s slave now. Can we talk about that?” Melissa interjected, her voice tinged with frustration. The casual discussion of financial logistics while she was grappling with her new reality felt surreal.
Amina looked at Melissa with a mixture of intrigue and concern. "Was there a lot of paperwork involved in buying you?"
"Not really," Markus responded, his tone casual. "They mainly wanted to see the money. The exchange was notarized by the judicial officer, and Melissa's file should be updated in the next few days. You'll be able to scan her chip then, and I'll be listed as her owner."
Tariq furrowed his brow, his mind catching up with the implications. "How was her price determined without an auction?"
Markus leaned back slightly, explaining, “Slave sales are common here, so there's a sort of a baseline price list. Melissa falls into the category of 'white female, 18-23 years old, good health, with an attractiveness rating of 9.5.'”
“The base price for a 20-year-old female in good health is pretty good. But adjustments are made based on individual assessments. And in Melissa’s case, the assessment wasn’t favorable.”
“What kind of ‘adjustments’ are these?” Tariq inquired, his interest mixed with concern.
“Well, apparently Melissa tried to mislead the assessor a couple of times. And people don’t like buying dishonest slaves.”
"Oh?" Tariq's voice carried a note of surprise.
"Yeah," Markus continued, his tone turning more solemn. “And she also spilled the beans about Arbek’s bribe at the Health Office and the slave ruse.”
“What? Why would you do that?” Tariq's voice rose, disbelief coloring his words. “We were trying to help you!”
Melissa's eyes dropped, her voice strained as she recounted her ordeal. "I... I had no choice, Tariq. They were torturing me. They drugged me. I can't even remember most of what happened after they gave me the drugs. I don't remember Safina asking about the bribe. I would never betray you guys; you were helping me!"
Tariq's expression softened into one of understanding, though the news clearly troubled him. "They tortured you?"
Melissa explained to them what had happened in the interview. Tariq and Amina looked incredulous.
“Oh, wow I had no idea,” Tariq said. “I hope that won’t spell trouble for Arbek when he returns.”
Amina reached out to squeeze Melissa's hand for comfort. "We'll figure this out. You're safe now, and that's what matters."
“Yeah,” Markus continued his earlier train of thought. “And that is another reason why the bank wouldn’t be able to get her base price. Buyers are wary of this. They wouldn’t want to buy a slave that was involved in illegal activities. If legal action is taken, the slave might get dragged into it, and they might not get the full value out of their investment.”
“Is that why you were able to buy her at that price?” Tariq asked, piecing together the scenario.
“Yes, I offered them the base price for Melissa, and they took it,” Markus confirmed. “I told them she had sentimental value to me.”
—
Melissa, still adjusting to her collar's new inscription, felt the words catch in her throat. "Yes, about that...," she said, her voice a mix of resignation and a plea for understanding. "Markus has no intention of freeing me."
Tariq's smile faltered, his brows knitting together in confusion. "What do you mean, Melissa? Markus, is this true?"
Markus, caught off guard by the directness, tried to soften his stance. "I... I want this to work, Melissa and me. We can build something here, something good."
Amina, her expression one of incredulity, interjected, "But Markus, you can't just decide to keep her as a slave. She was supposed to be free. What are your plans exactly?"
Markus looked between his friends. His initial excitement about having Melissa was now tempered by their scrutiny. "We're going to live here for a while. Together. I'll look after her, provide for her. She won't want for anything."
Tariq shook his head and said, "But Melissa isn't just any slave to us, Markus. We've been trying to get her out of this mess. She's Arbek's girlfriend. How do you think he'll react to this?"
Melissa noted the tension in their expressions. She knew it wasn't slavery they opposed but the betrayal of their efforts to see her free.
Markus sensed the shift in the atmosphere. He spoke with a conviction that he hoped would bridge the gap between his desires and their disapproval.
"I understand this isn't what was planned. But think about it: I saved her from being sold off, never to be seen again. I care for her, and I'll treat her well. We can figure this out, make it work."
Amina looked at Melissa, her eyes filled with sympathy. "Melissa, we didn’t know about this. We thought Markus would be... different. We're glad you've not been auctioned off, but this isn't right either."
Tariq, ever the pragmatist, considered the situation. "All our efforts to get you free, Melissa, and now this... Markus, you need to think about the long term here, not just the immediate. What when Arbek comes back?"
Markus shrugged. The complexity of the situation was not lost on him, that he had essentially bought Arbek’s girlfriend, but his decision seemed set. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, Melissa is with me, and I'll make sure she's happy."
Melissa watched her friends, hoping their shock would turn into action, but she saw only the weight of cultural norms and personal loyalties in their expressions. The conversation drifted towards speculation on Arbek's reaction, but Melissa knew that, in the end, her freedom was now a distant hope, reliant on Markus's change of heart or Arbek's return from England.
As the evening wore on, the group tried to find normalcy in their conversation, but underneath the laughter and shared stories, Melissa felt the chains of her new life tighten, her gaze occasionally meeting Markus's, her suitor in a previous life who had now become her master.
—
After they left Tariq and Amina, Markus took Melissa for a walk along the beach.
Markus talked about how happy he was that she was finally with him. And how much he had hoped that they would end up together. Melissa carefully agreed that she was glad that she was no longer imprisoned at the police station. Markus took her hand to comfort her and then kept holding it like they were a couple. She told him how horrible it had been there to be kept isolated in a cell for most of the time. How her stay had been like solitary confinement. How worried she had been that she’d be sold off into an unknown future with strangers and possibly a brothel. The only time she had met people other than the guards was during visits of her friends and the assessment. Markus agreed that she did not deserve this kind of treatment and that with him, she would have a good life.
They arrived at the marketplace. There, he bought some takeaways for them and they returned back to his hut, walking hand in hand like a couple on a date.
Markus put the food on the table. Melissa knew that as a slave Grabesians would not allow her to use furniture. So she could not sit at the table. She wondered if Markus would make her kneel at the table or how this dinner would happen.
Markus fetched a clean towel from the bathroom and covered one of the chairs with it. Then, he asked her to take a seat and the two had dinner together.
—
The humble light from the single bulb above the table cast long shadows, making the simple meal seem almost ceremonial. Melissa sat on the chair Markus had prepared for her, the towel beneath her a reminder of her current, unacceptable situation.
"I hope today wasn't too hard on you, meeting Tariq and Amina like that," Markus said, his voice careful. "They care about you, but I think they'll come around to understanding our situation."
"It was... difficult," Melissa replied, her eyes on her plate, her tone measured. "They're worried about me, about what this means."
"I know this isn't how we planned things, but I want to make the best of it," Markus continued, trying to sound reassuring. "You're here with me now, and I want you to feel at home."
"Home..." Melissa's voice carried a trace of irony. "I should have been free a week ago, Markus. Not here."
Markus reached across the table, his hand touching hers, trying to convey sincerity. "I've been thinking about what we could do, you know, together. Maybe we can build something here, a life. What do you think you'd like to do?"
Melissa's mind raced through possibilities, all shadowed by her current status. "I... I don't know," she said, her voice tinged with a guarded hope. "I've been so focused on getting out of that cell, I haven't thought much beyond that. I just want to feel safe, to have some say in my life again."
"I know it sounds contradictory," Markus admitted, his hand still on hers. "But I want you to be more than just a slave. I want you to be my girlfriend."
Melissa subtly withdrew her hand, her voice soft but probing. "Markus, I need to understand... how do you see this working? You will keep me naked and collared as your slave, but also... somehow I’ll also be your ‘girlfriend’?"
"I want this to work, Mel," Markus responded, leaning back slightly, his words carefully chosen. "We can make this work, you and me."
Melissa looked into his eyes shyly, she touched her collar and lightly pulled at the D-ring. Her voice was careful, but she had to know, "And what about my freedom, Markus? How long will you keep me like this?"
"I don’t know, Melissa," Markus said, his tone reluctant, his gaze drifting away before returning to her. "I have never had a slave before. Let’s see how this goes and maybe one day, we can talk about it. For now, I want you to feel safe here with me."
"Thank you for the meal," she added formally, acknowledging the gesture but not the underlying situation. Her mind calculated the days, the moments, looking for an opportunity to reclaim her life.
—
Markus took her hand and got up from the table. Melissa stood as well. Markus gave her a heartfelt hug. He felt shivers of happiness from holding the love of his life in his hands. Naked and his to command. He kissed her and held the back of her head with one hand to gently push her lips against his. His happiness was slightly tainted from knowing that if he were to free her then this would all be over. She would be out here the moment he unlocked her collar.
Melissa understood what was about to happen. The walk along the beach, the shopping for food and the dinner at his place. The entire evening had been in the form of a date. And now at the end of the date he was making his move on her. And she had no choice but to yield to any advance he made on her.
But she also knew that without his intervention, if he had not bought her, she would still be imprisoned at the police station. At this very moment, she would be locked in a cell, alone and fretting about a future in which she had been sold to some brothel. And it was because of him that she was out of there and this possible future had been wiped out. Instead, she was out in the world again. She was able to talk to him, Tariq and Amina without being shackled on her hands and legs and chained to the floor in a kneeling position. She was eating normal food again, good food even and had spent an evening that would have been pleasant under different circumstances.
And it had been Markus’s desire for her that had made all of this possible.
Markus was not a bad person, but she could also not pretend that she had a passion for him. She felt resentment for him that he planned to keep her as his captive. This had been a long day and she was exhausted. She wanted this to be over with so she could sleep in a soft bed for the night.
Melissa decided that she couldn’t pretend she was passionate, but she would also not resist him.
—
Markus took Melissa's hand, leading her to the bedroom. He hugged her, and she felt the warmth of his skin against hers, his heartbeat steady compared to hers, which was racing with a mix of dread and resignation.
He undressed and pulled her onto the bed, guiding her to lie on top of him. His arms wrapped around her, pressing her close, her face against his neck. Melissa felt his erection against her thigh, a clear sign that he was ready.
"I dreamed of this," Markus whispered, his voice a mix of longing and possession.
Melissa, feeling the weight of her situation, didn't reply immediately. She tried to adjust, her body tensing at his touch. "This isn't what you dreamed of," she finally said, her voice flat, as she felt him at her entrance.
Markus paused, "What do you mean?"
"This is… the reality," she said, lifting her head slightly to look at him, her fingers brushing against the collar. "I don't have a choice."
He didn't respond with words, instead, he began to push his penis into her. Melissa felt a wave of discomfort and her body betraying her with involuntary responses. She grimaced and reached down to help guide his penis in to ease the entry. His movements were steady, his breathing heavy against her ear.
"I'm not your... first choice, but you did choose me," Markus said between breaths, his voice strained.
Melissa didn't want to engage, focusing instead on her discomfort, "I didn't want you to leave me there."
"I want this to be good for you," he panted, his pace quickening. "I want to give you a good life."
"A life... as your slave?" she managed to say, her voice trembling.
"You're not just a slave to me," he replied, his thrusts becoming more urgent.
She felt her body responding, the physical sensation building despite her mind's resistance. "Love isn't... something you can buy," she whispered, her words coming out in short bursts as she struggled with her emotions.
"I didn't buy your love," Markus said, slowing down to look at her. "I bought you to save you."
Melissa didn't respond, her mind racing with the implications of his words. She felt the warmth spreading, her body reacting to the rhythm Markus set, even as she wished she could control it.
"Time," he said, his voice hopeful. "Give it time."
"Time?" she echoed, her breath catching as sensations built. "I'm your slave."
He shifted, rolling her onto her back, entering her again with a motion that made her breath hitch. "I didn’t enslave you."
Her mind was a mess. She wanted to pause this to sort herself out, but her body was not hers to command at this moment. She felt the climax approaching, an unwanted response to his actions. "Do you think ownership... is love?" she gasped out.
"I care for you," he said, his movements relentless now. "More than he ever did."
The physicality overwhelmed her, and despite her emotional turmoil, her body reached its peak, a release that was as much from tension as from pleasure. Markus followed shortly after, his body shuddering against hers.
Afterwards, he looked at her, planted a gentle kiss on her lips, his breath still uneven, and removed his penis out of her.
"We'll find a way, Melissa, to make this work. To give you freedom within our life together," he whispered, his voice a mix of desire and determination.
The room fell into silence, the weight of their reality settling like a dense fog. Melissa felt Markus's semen seeping out of her. She got up silently, her steps mechanical. She walked to the bathroom, feeling the floor against her bare feet. In the bathroom, she cleaned herself up. In the mirror she saw her new collar for the first time. She turned it to read the inscription: “Melissa Maurer, property of Markus Wagner.”
—
When she returned to the bed, she found Markus had put on his pajamas, which created a contrast with her own enforced nudity. He smiled at her, and she laid down next to him.
Markus broke the silence. His voice was tentative as if feeling out the boundaries of their new reality.
"Melissa, I know this isn't how either of us imagined things would go."
Melissa, her voice still heavy with the weight of their situation, replied, "You said you wanted to save me, Markus. But what price do I have to pay for that? A life as a slave to you?"
Markus looked at her with a mix of guilt and earnestness and tried to explain, "I bought you because it was the only way to keep you safe from... the Grabesian slave system."
Melissa turned her head to face him, her eyes searching his for sincerity. "I am grateful that you rescued me. But love isn't something you can buy, Markus. I’m just your prisoner now."
Markus nodded, his expression reflecting his inner turmoil. "I know it looks like I've become your new slave master now, but that wasn't my intention. Maybe... maybe one day, when we've figured this out, I can give you back your freedom."
Melissa sat up, her voice laced with irony and a hint of hope, "Even if you free me, Markus, I'll carry this experience with me forever. It changes everything. But maybe, just maybe, can we find a way to live together, where I'm free? Without this?" She pulled lightly at the D-ring of her collar to make her point.
Markus nodded, his expression softening. "I would like that, Melissa. I want us to find a way to make this work, to give you some freedom within our life together."
Melissa said with some irony, "Freedom within captivity? How does that work, Markus?"
Markus sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I mean... time, Melissa. Give it time. We can build something here. I want you to have choices again, to feel safe and cared for."
Melissa looked down at Markus. Her fingers traced the inscription. "Do you really think ownership can lead to love? That chain around my neck says otherwise."
Markus sat up and reached out, his hand hovering near hers, not daring to touch. "I care for you, more than he ever did. I want to prove that to you, every day."
Melissa pulled away slightly, her gaze distant. "It wasn't you who enslaved me, but you're the one holding the key now. What kind of life do you envision for me, Markus? One where I'm always under your control?"
Markus looked uncomfortable, "I see a life where you're not just a slave but my partner. I know it's hard to see now, but I want us to have that chance to be together, genuinely."
Melissa shook her head, the reality of her situation pressing down on her. "I need more than just a chance, Markus. I need my life back. My freedom back."
Markus lay back. He stared at the ceiling with the weight of their conversation settling in. "And I want to give that to you, Melissa. But I also want you to be with me. Can we not find a middle ground?"
Melissa lay back down, her voice barely a whisper, "I don't know if there is one, Markus. Not with this collar on."
—
Markus was lying beside Melissa in the dim light of the bedroom. He shifted uncomfortably before speaking. "Melissa, there's something I got in preparation for you moving in with me. I need to feel secure, at least at the beginning."
Melissa turned her head to look at him, confusion and suspicion knitting her brows together. "What do you mean?"
Markus reached over to the bedside drawer, and pulled out a set of restraints — handcuffs and leg irons connected by a central chain. His voice was calm but firm. "I need to know that I can trust you, especially while we're sleeping. This is just temporary, until you've earned that trust."
Melissa sat up abruptly, her eyes wide with indignation. "You're going to chain me up? Like I'm some kind of criminal?"
Markus looked at her, his expression a mix of regret and determination. "It's not about you being a criminal, Mel. It's about ensuring our safety while we adjust. Once I know you won't... do something impulsive, these won't be necessary anymore."
Melissa shook her head. Her voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt. "This is how you want to start our nights together? By locking me down?"
Markus sighed. He held out the handcuffs. "Please, Melissa, hold out your hands. It's just for tonight, or until I'm sure."
Melissa hesitated, her gaze moved between Markus's face and the restraints. Her heart felt heavy, but she slowly extended her wrists. "You shouldn’t do this, Markus."
Markus, with a resigned look, gently but firmly locked the handcuffs around her wrists. His voice was soft, almost apologetic. "I know it's not ideal, but we need to build trust, Mel. And this... this is part of that."
He then passed the central chain between the bars of the headboard and reduced the slack of the central chain by locking the ankle chains to a bar closer to his side of the bed. This ensured that she couldn't use her hands to hurt him while he was sleeping.
"I'm sorry it has to be like this," he whispered.
Melissa lay down, the chains clinking softly, her body tense. She stared at the ceiling, the cold metal of the restraints a constant reminder of her captivity. "I get why you're doing this, Markus, but I wish you wouldn’t chain me for the night," she whispered.
—
Her mind was chaotic. Once again she thought about how she should have been free by now. Markus's breathing evened out, signaling his descent into sleep. Melissa lay there, feeling the weight of the day, the transition from a cell to this bed, from one form of captivity to another. Her body was tired, her mind exhausted by the day's events, but sleep would not come easily.
The unfamiliar weight of the handcuffs rested on her wrists, and the chains went taut when she tried to lower her hands beyond her neck. The sensation was alien, constricting her usual movements; she was accustomed to tossing and turning, stretching her arms out wide, or even just scratching an itch. Now, all those simple, taken-for-granted actions were denied to her.
With her hands above her head, she tried to find a comfortable position. Normally she would lie on her side, with her head resting on one arm and the other in front of her. But that was impossible now. The handcuffs forced her to keep her arms together, and lying on her side was not comfortable like this.
She attempted to shift to find a comfortable position. Each time she moved she was met with the clinking of her chains, a sound that echoed her helplessness. Annoyance surged within her. She pulled her hands down, in an attempt to slip her hands out of the cuffs. But Markus had pushed the bows of the cuffs far enough into the ratchets that the cuffs stayed on her wrists without even sliding up her hands. She tugged at the restraints, hoping against hope for some give, some extra slack she might be able to use. There was none. The chains were resolute, unyielding to her pulls. When she yanked in frustration, the metal bit slightly into her skin.
The sound of her struggles must have disturbed Markus because he stirred, making gentle shushing sounds to calm her down. His hand reached out, caressing her cheek, then moving to place a kiss there, another on her lips. His touch was meant to soothe, but to Melissa, it felt more like an assertion of his dominance over her, even in these quiet moments. His hand then wandered, cupping her breast, his fingers gently stroking her vagina, a touch that under different circumstances might have been intimate but now felt like another layer of control. He settled beside her, his hand resting on her breast, fingers idly playing with her nipple, his breathing evening out as he drifted back to sleep.
Melissa, left with her thoughts, felt the weight of her situation. Markus had cuffed her because he didn't trust her, because he feared she might do him harm while he slept. She would not have done this anyway, but now, with so little slack allowed to her hands, she could not even reach him if she wanted to. Not only her hands were rendered useless, but her entire body was confined to the space his chains allowed.
Despite the discomfort, the day's exhaustion began to weigh on her. She had woken in a cell at the police station in the morning with her fate still unknown to her, faced the reality of being sold, navigated a pseudo-date with her new 'owner,' and endured two sexual encounters, each under the direction of her new owner Markus. The physical and emotional toll of the day was immense, and even though her mind raced with indignation, resentment, and the raw desire to be free, her body surrendered to the fatigue.
In the quiet of the night, with Markus asleep beside her, his hand still possessively on her, Melissa's thoughts were a tumult of defiance and resignation. She was chained, literally and metaphorically, to this new life, a fact she'd have to live with until Markus chose to release her. Eventually, the exhaustion overtook her thoughts, and she drifted into a fitful sleep, her body and mind at odds, but both momentarily subdued by the sheer necessity of rest.
—
Melissa's sleep was shallow, her mind unable to escape the reality of her situation, even in dreams and occasionally awakened when her chains restricted her from a movement within her sleep. The tug of the cuffs on her wrists would wake her up. She would try moving, hear the clinking of her chains and feel the restrictions of the cuffs and drift off again, resigned that the change of sleeping posture was denied to her.
Sometime in the deep hours of the night, she felt the need to pee. But she was immediately reminded of her predicament by the touch of hard metal against her skin. The handcuffs on her wrists and the leg irons attached to the bed's headboard held her fast.
This can't be happening, she thought, as her bladder's insistence grew. She tried shifting her position, hoping the pressure on her bladder would ease. But the chains only clinked in protest, offering no relief.
She lay there, the weight of her captivity now more tangible than ever. The room was dark, the only light seeping in from the moon through a small window. I can't believe this is what my life has become, she thought. Chained like to the bed, unable to go to the bathroom, needing to ask for release to perform the most basic human function.
Reluctantly, she turned her head towards Markus, who was asleep beside her. His breathing was steady. The thought of waking him up, of having to ask him to be released from his chains, made her stomach churn. But the physical need was becoming unbearable.
"Markus," she whispered first, her voice barely above a breath. No response. She tried again, louder this time, "Markus, please wake up."
Markus stirred, his eyes fluttering open, confusion clouding his features as he adjusted to the darkness. "What is it, Mel?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
"I need to go to the bathroom," Melissa said, her tone a mix of frustration and desperation.
Markus seemed to remember their situation then, his eyes darting to the chains before settling back on her. "Oh, right," he said, sitting up. He reached over to unlock the leg irons from the headboard. He left her wrists still cuffed, but this allowed her to bring her hands down in front of her.
With her hands now in front, though still bound by the handcuffs, she sat up. The chains clattered as she moved. She felt a rush of relief mixed with the sting of degradation as she stepped out of bed with her hands still bound, making her movements awkward. She made her way to the bathroom with her bare feet on the cool floor.
In the bathroom, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. She saw the handcuffs holding her hands together. Is this who I am now? she wondered, the reflection staring back at her seemed almost alien, marked by the chains of Markus's control.
After finishing, she slowly returned to the bedroom, the chains on her wrists jingling softly. Markus was still awake waiting for her, and without a word, he locked the leg irons once again to the headboard. He laid at her side propped up by his right elbow and looked down at her with her hands held over her head with a gentle smile. With his left hand he gently stroked her upward held right arm down to her shoulder and further down along her side.
“I’m so glad you are here with me, Mel,” he whispered and gave her a kiss. Then, he lay back down to go back to sleep.
Melissa stared at the ceiling, the need to pee now replaced by a profound sense of dependency on him. That she needed him for something as simple and intimate as going to the bathroom, his keys to unlock her chains. She listened to Markus's breathing return to the rhythm of sleep, leaving her to the quiet company of her thoughts and the clink of chains.
—
In the morning Melissa woke to the pale light of dawn filtering through the window, her body still bound by the chains to Markus's bed.
The night spent in chains had left Melissa's wrists raw and tender, the metal cuffs having dug into her skin by her involuntary tugs as she had tried to find comfort in her sleep. Her arms ached and her muscles were stiff from being held in an unnatural position all night. The chafing from the handcuffs had left visible red marks on her wrists, and even a light tug at the cuffs now led to a sharp reminder of her captivity. Her body was not used to such restrictions, and the morning light revealed the physical cost of the restraints Markus had subjected her to: red indents on her wrists, the skin around them irritated and slightly swollen.
She lay there, her mind a whirl of reflections from the previous day. The harsh realization hit her anew: she had been close to being lost to the Grabesian slave system and only narrowly escaped a life of permanent enslavement in this foreign land. That had been close, far too close. If Markus hadn't intervened, she would've been lost to the system, sold off to some unknown fate.
Now, tethered to this bed, her freedom of movement was dictated by his whims. Her thoughts drifted to the night before, to the two times Markus had had sex with her, exercising his ownership of her in the most intimate of ways for his sexual gratification. Was this what being a sex slave felt like? For how long would she have to pay the price for her rescue? How long would she be used like this?
The surrealness of her situation struck her once again. Markus owned her. What if she refused him, she thought. What if she just pushed him away next time he wanted to put his penis into her? Sure, she was chained to the bed right now, but she wouldn't be chained like this all day. She hadn't been chained most of the day yesterday. Why wouldn't she just walk away? she thought. Why didn't she refuse him when he directed her to the bedroom or when he inspected her like breeding cattle or when he had sex with him? Why did she just offer her hands when he had wanted to chain her?
Yet, the thought of running away seemed futile.
She contemplated the logistics of escape. This steel collar around her neck clearly marked her as a slave. Even if she managed to steal some money, what good would it do? She couldn't buy anything: No food or a bus ticket away from here. Slaves weren't allowed to handle money. Her survival depended on Markus, on a free person to care for her.
If she approached the police, they would side with Markus; slavery was legal here. They would detain her, contact Markus, and even if she refused to disclose who owned her, her collar, her ear tag, her chip - all would betray her. She couldn't even pretend to be free; in this hot climate, covering her neck would be out of place. People here dressed lightly due to the heat. They certainly didn't cover their necks, and this made any attempt to hide her collar suspicious, an act of falsifying her status, which was illegal.
As long as Markus kept the collar locked on her, this insidious set of cultural and legal rules turned Grabesh into her prison and put her at his mercy.
The clinks of metal when she moved kept reminding her that her life was no longer her own. She had done nothing to deserve this. If this is how Markus treated her now, she was afraid to think what he might do if she rebelled. The memory of the tasers and prods from her time at the Health Office was still vivid in her mind.
She understood now why for slaves resistance was impossible. Everything about her was up to Markus's decisions, his whims. She could argue, resist, but ultimately, her life was in his hands. And beyond that, the unspoken threat of punishment loomed. Markus hadn't punished her yet, nor threatened to, but the capability was there, the knowledge of it a shadow over her.
—
Markus stirred, the morning light piercing through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. He opened his eyes, immediately finding Melissa, her hands still chained to the headboard, her arms stretched above her.
"Good morning, Mel!" he greeted, his voice carrying the warmth of the new day.
He rolled over to her and pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that felt more like a claim than an affection. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in her beauty. Her soft, smooth skin seemed to glow in the morning light, her teardrop-shaped breasts gently rising and falling with each breath, her flat stomach, and the fine, blonde pubic hair that adorned her vagina.
Arousal came quickly for Markus, and he shed his pajamas, laying himself over her, careful to support his weight on his elbows. He spread her legs, his intention clear as he positioned himself, the tip of his penis touching her. He kissed her lips, moved to her cheeks, and traced kisses down to her shoulders.
Her arms, pulled upward by the chains, left her armpits exposed, creating an unintended sense of intimacy and closeness that Markus felt was uniquely his.
Melissa, still adjusting to the morning and the reality of her situation, moaned in discomfort, her voice a mix of protest and plea. The realization that Markus was savoring her scent from such a private area made her uneasy. She tried to lower her arms to cover herself, but the chain pulled taut, preventing it.
"Not now, Markus... we already did it twice. It's too early... and I have to pee."
The tip of his penis was already at the entrance of her vagina, but her words halted him. Frustration bubbled within him; the prospect of morning sex with the love of his life was exciting. He did not want to back down from this. But he was also acutely aware that gaining her affection, her love, meant he had to take her wishes into account as well. He sighed, a heavy, disappointed sound, then paused, as his mind wrestled with his impulses.
"Of course, Mel," he said, his voice lacking the warmth from moments before, now edged with confusion and a hint of guilt. He didn't move immediately. The conflict within him was visible in his eyes. "I... I guess I didn't think about how this would feel for you."
Melissa was relieved that he wouldn't make her have sex with him again right now. But she was still chained to the bed, and her chains also reminded her how she was still his slave, and he was making no motion to change that.
With a sharpness in her tone, she asked, "Can you unchain me, please? I need to use the bathroom."
Markus nodded, the annoyance not entirely masked as he got up from the bed to retrieve the keys from the drawer of the nightstand, his movements slow, almost hesitant. He had used a considerable amount of his savings to save her from being auctioned off into the Grabesian slave system. And she wasn't appreciating him for it. She didn't even realize how much better her life was due to him. Even having quick sex was too much to ask of her. He approached her with a mix of duty and reluctance.
"Yeah, of course," he responded, his tone less commanding in the morning light. He tried to see the situation from her point of view, that she wasn't ready right now, but he still thought she could have at least indulged him in exchange for what he had done for her. But he would respect her wishes, so they could find a semblance of normalcy in their abnormal dynamic.
As Markus unlocked the handcuffs, he noticed the redness of her skin there and the small indentations from where the cuffs had dug in. It showed him the physical toll of her captivity from the many times she must have unconsciously tugged and twisted against her restraints in her sleep. He looked at her wrists for a moment, a flicker of something akin to guilt passing over his features that she paid a physical cost for his control over her.
Melissa rubbed her wrists, glad to be free of the hated cuffs. She stood and stretched her arms, wincing at the soreness that lingered. She hurried out of the room to the bathroom, her steps quick, and the floor cool under her bare feet. The act of being released to use the bathroom, something so mundane, now required permission, a key, and a moment of dependency that made her feel Markus’s control of her. Her reflection in the mirror was that of a woman marked by chains, her eyes reflecting a mix of fatigue and a determination to adapt.
When she returned, Markus had already started brewing coffee. The aroma of coffee was already wafting through the air. He was dressed in his underwear while she would be spending another day of her life naked against her will. Like an animal with her breasts and vagina on display for all to see, creating a visual impression of their different roles in their relationship. They were not just man and woman, but master and slave. He looked at her, his expression a mix of the man she once knew and the one who now held her life in his hands.
The sight of Markus trying to normalize the morning with coffee felt like a mockery of what had transpired this night. Her heart was a battleground of conflicting emotions: gratitude for not being sold off, resentment that he kept her enslaved, and some joy of small blessings like having coffee even when it was overshadowed by the weight of her collar.
"I didn't sleep well," he admitted, his voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and an attempt at normalcy. "I keep thinking about how we can make this work."
He handed her a mug of coffee, and she took it reluctantly, her eyes never leaving his.
Melissa leaned against the doorframe, her gaze wary, her body language guarded. She didn't immediately respond, the silence speaking volumes of her internal conflict.
Anger bubbled within her; Markus was holding her captive, using her for his own sexual gratification, and now he expected her cooperation, to be an accomplice in her own subjugation, to 'make this work.' Yet, she knew she couldn't unleash her fury. An outburst could lead to further control rather than freedom. Provoking him could only worsen her situation. The memory of being chained overnight was still fresh. Her wrists were still sore. Freedom was a distant dream at this moment. She needed to proceed with caution, earn his trust step by step, and perhaps then, she could push for more.
She softened her voice to a tone that was both gentle and persuasive.
"You know, I appreciate how you're trying to make this work for us, Markus," she began, her eyes meeting his with a calculated warmth. "I just... I need us to find a rhythm where I feel like more than just... this." She gestured subtly to her naked form, her wrists still showing the marks of the night's restraints. "It's about what 'making it work' means for me."
Markus paused, the mug of coffee halfway to his lips, his brow furrowing as he processed her words. "What do you mean by that, Mel? What does 'making it work' mean for you?"
Melissa took a sip of her coffee, allowing the silence to stretch, her expression thoughtful. "I mean, maybe we can start with small things. Like, I could help you with breakfast, or we could plan our day together. It would give me something to look forward to, you know? And maybe," she paused, her eyes searching his for any sign of agreement, "we can talk about not using the chains at night. It would show me you trust me, and I think that would help us both sleep better."
Markus listened, his gaze dropping to the coffee in his hand, the steam rising like his thoughts. "I... I didn't think of it like that. I thought if we could just find a routine, some normalcy—"
Melissa smiled lightly, not interrupting but guiding the conversation. "Normalcy for both of us, Markus. I want to feel like I'm part of this life, not just living in it because I have no other choice. And if I can feel that, maybe we can find our way back to something good."
"I want to make that future for us, Mel. I really do," he said, the words sounding more like a hope than a plan. "But I... I'm not sure how to start."
Melissa paused, her eyes downcast as she spoke quietly, "I think... if I could do small things, like help with breakfast or talk about our day, it might make this feel less like... like I'm just here because I have to be."
Markus looked at her, the coffee mug still in his hands, the steam swirling up between them. He seemed to ponder her words, his gaze thoughtful as he absorbed the implication of her request.
"I understand," he finally said, his voice carrying a hint of regret. "I didn't mean for you to feel like that."
Melissa's eyes flickered up to meet his for a moment before returning to the floor. "I know you didn't, Markus. It's just... everything's changed so fast."
He nodded, setting his mug down on the small table nearby. "Let's do that then. You can help with breakfast. I think... I think that would be good for us."
A small smile, almost imperceptible, touched Melissa's lips, giving her a fleeting sense of control over her situation. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice still low, careful not to push too far.
Markus moved to the kitchen area, his movements slow, perhaps contemplating how to navigate this new dynamic. "What would you like to make?" he asked, attempting to engage her in something that felt normal, mundane.
Melissa followed him, her steps quiet, her nudity a constant reminder of her status yet overshadowed by the small act of inclusion. "Maybe some eggs? With toast?" She suggested, her voice gaining a bit more confidence as she spoke about something as ordinary as a meal.
"Sure," Markus agreed, pulling out a carton of eggs from the fridge. "Can you slice some bread for the toast while I get these started?"
Melissa nodded, grateful for the task. She moved to the counter where the bread was kept, her actions deliberate, finding a rhythm in the mundane task that gave her a semblance of agency. As she sliced the bread, she could feel Markus's eyes on her, not with possession but with something akin to partnership, even if it was a fragile one.
As they worked side by side, the silence was punctuated by the crack of eggs and the rustle of bread, creating a veneer of normalcy in their surreal circumstances. Markus started to speak, his tone cautious, "I want to trust you, Melissa. I really do. It's just hard for me to let go after... everything."
Melissa paused, placing the slices into the toaster, then turned to him, her expression one of confusion. "What do you mean by 'everything'?"
Markus sighed, his gaze drifting to the eggs he was cooking, then back to her. "I mean, after you became a slave here in Grabesh, everything changed. I spent a lot of money and put a lot on the line to get you out of the police station. There's this part of me that fears you might try to escape or... or maybe not feel the same way about me now that you're... you know, under my ownership."
He paused, his voice softening. "And then there's how you tried to mislead the assessors, and you spoke about Arbek's bribe, which could have legal implications. I understand that you were pressured, but I don't want to get into trouble someday like him. Here, in this culture, slaves aren't seen as trustworthy by default, and I've been influenced by that, even if I don't want to be. I guess I'm just scared that if I let go, if I trust you completely, I will lose you to your freedom."
Melissa listened, her heart sinking as she understood the depth of his fears and the cultural and personal barriers they faced. "I see," she said quietly, her voice reflecting a mix of understanding and sorrow. "I didn't realize how much that weighed on you."
The toast popped up, and Markus handed her the butter, their fingers brushing lightly. It was a simple act, but it carried weight in their current context. "Yeah," he said, almost to himself, "it's not easy for either of us."
They ate breakfast at the table, Melissa sitting on the chair with the towel Markus had placed there the night before, a small concession to her dignity. The meal was quiet, but it was different from the tension of the previous night; there was an undercurrent of tentative hope, a silent agreement to try and bridge the vast gap between them.
Upon entering Markus's home, the atmosphere was charged with the reality of their new dynamic. The door shut with a creaky thud, the wooden frame protesting slightly against the motion, sealing them into a space where Markus's ownership was feelable. The house was quiet.
For Melissa, stepping into Markus's home was like walking into a trap she had no choice but to enter. Her heart was heavy with the realization that her life was now in Markus's hands, and her body was his to command. She felt a mix of resignation, fear, and strategic thinking, knowing that her survival might depend on navigating this new reality with care. She had mentally prepared herself for this moment. She understood that Markus would want to have sex with her now.
Markus approached her, his hand reaching out to gently cup her cheek, a gesture of possession mingled with care. "Melissa," he said, his voice trying to bridge the gap between affection and control, "I've always cared for you. Now, we can be together, like I've always wanted."
Melissa felt a bit of gratitude amidst her turmoil. Markus had been the one to save her from repossession, from a life in the Grabesian slave system. She didn't desire him, but she recognized his act as one of salvation in this twisted context. "I know, Markus," she responded, her eyes avoiding his.
—
As he led her to the bedroom, his touch on her arm almost felt like a lifeline to some semblance of normalcy. But the feeling was tainted by the knowledge of her servitude. Her enslaved status turned this gesture that would otherwise have been an invitation into a chain that bound her.
The room was simple, the bed a clear reminder of what was expected of her. Markus stood next to the bed and pulled her gently towards him. His hands were at her waist with a familiarity that was both comforting and invasive.
Melissa didn't resist. Instead, she allowed herself to feel his touch, starved as she was for any sign of affection after days of isolation and fear. She knew his motives were self-serving, but at this moment, the sensual touch offered a brief escape from her reality.
"I want this to be good for you too," Markus murmured, his voice a mix of longing and the hope that this could be more than just Melissa submitting to his ownership of her. He kissed her, and while Melissa didn't reciprocate with passion, she didn't recoil. Instead, she found a strange comfort in the physical closeness. And although she knew that this would be about his satisfaction and not hers, her body responded, not out of desire but out of a deep-seated need for connection, any connection.
He positioned her on the bed face down and spread her buttcheeks to get a good view of her most intimate parts. This was more than an inspection of the goods, it was him exercising his right to access her most intimate parts unchallenged. Something she would previously never have allowed. But now she was his by right, and he wanted her to acquiesce to this to prove her commitment to her new role to him.
She felt like livestock being inspected on a market by a buyer. Melissa felt the cool sheets on her skin. She had already decided that she would not resist. She had agreed to be his slave, even if it had been to save herself from a worse fate. Now she had to play her part and allow him to use her body for his pleasure.
With his hands he held her buttocks spread, revealing what he had previously been denied in their free life but had now purchased. Her clean anus and the pink hue of her labia stirred his excitement for what was next. He was thrilled that he owned her.
He leaned close to playfully nip at her buttock and enjoyed the sensation of her skin. Then he gently lay upon her, mindful not to press too hard, and began kissing near her ear tag, moving down her neck until he reached her collar.
Then he turned her on her back. He wanted to see her face when they had sex. He looked at her front side. Her lush hair splayed across the sheets, her pretty face with a dispassionate expression looking at him, his collar on her neck marking her as his and the smooth tanned skin of her body. After being naked for so long, her skin was a uniform tan, even in her most private areas. The skin of her breasts, her navel on her flat stomach up to the thin sheet of her vagina’s wiry pubic hair all had the same tone of tanned white skin.
Still dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, he lay on her, kissing her mouth, then each breast, sucking gently on her nipples before moving to her vagina, kissing and lightly licking her clitoris.
He stood up to remove his clothes, then laid himself flat on Melissa, reveling in the contact of their naked bodies. He nuzzled his cheek against hers before tenderly kissing her lips.
He positioned his legs between hers, using his to spread her legs wider. He pressed his erect penis against the entrance of her vagina. He felt some resistance, but his hardness allowed him to push in slowly. He heard Melissa moan in discomfort.
Markus paused. With a soft tone, he said, "I'll make this easier," and reached over to the nightstand. The drawer creaked as he opened it, pulling out a small bottle of lubricant.
"This will help," he whispered. He uncapped the bottle and the scent of the lube, slightly medicinal, filled the room. His fingers applied the gel, and she felt the cold liquid on her warm skin of her vaginal entrance. "It'll be smoother now," he whispered.
He returned to her and their naked bodies touched again. He kissed her tenderly on her cheek and her lips, then parted her legs again with his. He pushed his erect penis against the entrance of her vagina. The resistance faded as the slick gel coated everything and allowed him to enter her more easily.
Once fully in, he held still inside her to wait for her to adapt. He continued to press his body against hers and kiss her.
Soon he was unable to resist and began to move inside her. The friction was less now, his movements smoother. Eventually, her body began to respond, her vagina became more loose and moist, allowing him to thrust with more ease and more comfort for Melissa.
He held her tightly as he climaxed within her. Then he rolled off and laid down next to her.
Melissa laid on the bed next to him. She was his now, not just in law but in this intimate, personal way. She already was his property, a fact that chilled her to the bone every time she felt the weight of the collar around her neck. But this... this was different. This had been Markus asserting his dominion over her in the most private, most personal of ways. It wasn't just her actions or her days that he now controlled; it was her very essence, her body that was now subjected to his desires. He had touched the core of her being as if he could reach out to her soul. The weight of Markus's control, now intimately sealed, felt like an invisible chain tightening around her soul. She was his, in the most profound, invasive way.
The act was over quickly, not as spectacular as Markus had imagined, but she belonged to him now, and he was confident that with time, their encounters would become more satisfying as they became more familiar with one another.
—
Melissa sat up in bed. She broke the silence with a question that had been gnawing at her since they had left the police station. "Markus, will you expect me to kneel in front of you? Like they do here?"
Markus looked at her, his eyes flickering with a mix of discomfort and resolve. "When we're alone, Mel, I want us to be... well, like we used to be. Like equals. But out there, in Grabesh, it's different. People here expect certain behaviors. It's not about weakness or strength; it's about fitting in, not standing out in a way that could cause problems for us."
And even though Melissa had knelt in the presence of free people for the last few weeks, and she recognized the pragmatic side of his reasoning, she was still furious that Markus would ask this of her. "So, in public, I'm to be your slave, not your partner?"
Markus sighed, his hands clasping together as if to hold onto his argument. "I know it sounds harsh, but it's how things are here, Mel. We need to follow the local customs. But here, in our home, you're with me because I care about you, not because I want to show off some power."
Melissa nodded slowly while she tried to come to terms with this.
"And how long do you think this 'following local customs' will last, Markus? How long until you decide I don't have to kneel anymore?"
Markus hesitated, his gaze drifting before returning to her. "I don't know, Melissa. But I hope... I hope we can find a way to live here that you can accept."
Melissa looked at him with a complex mix of emotions - resignation, anger, but also a reluctant understanding. "I hope so, Markus. I need to know that I won’t be kneeling before ‘free people’ for the rest of my life."
—
The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows over the sandy pathways leading to Tariq and Amina's mudhut. Markus and Melissa walked in silence, with both of them in thought.
Tariq and Amina were sitting outside. Their faces lit up at the sight of Melissa. The relief to see her was evident in their smiles. "Melissa, Markus!" Tariq called out, standing up to welcome them. "We're so glad to see you. We heard you got out of that mess at the station."
Amina nodded. Her eyes scanned Melissa, perhaps looking for signs of the misery she had endured. "Yes, we were worried when we heard Markus was bidding on you. But knowing he got you out of there is such a relief!"
Tariq greeted them with a broad smile, "How did you manage to get the money transferred so quickly? Arbek was dealing with all sorts of delays."
Markus explained, "The pensioners, Horst and Werner, they transfer money all the time. They connected me with someone at the FinTech company they use who sorted this out for me."
Tariq was curious. “Oh, I didn’t know that was possible. Can you show me what company that is? That would have been useful for Arbek.”
“Guys, I’m Markus’s slave now. Can we talk about that?” Melissa interjected, her voice tinged with frustration. The casual discussion of financial logistics while she was grappling with her new reality felt surreal.
Amina looked at Melissa with a mixture of intrigue and concern. "Was there a lot of paperwork involved in buying you?"
"Not really," Markus responded, his tone casual. "They mainly wanted to see the money. The exchange was notarized by the judicial officer, and Melissa's file should be updated in the next few days. You'll be able to scan her chip then, and I'll be listed as her owner."
Tariq furrowed his brow, his mind catching up with the implications. "How was her price determined without an auction?"
Markus leaned back slightly, explaining, “Slave sales are common here, so there's a sort of a baseline price list. Melissa falls into the category of 'white female, 18-23 years old, good health, with an attractiveness rating of 9.5.'”
“The base price for a 20-year-old female in good health is pretty good. But adjustments are made based on individual assessments. And in Melissa’s case, the assessment wasn’t favorable.”
“What kind of ‘adjustments’ are these?” Tariq inquired, his interest mixed with concern.
“Well, apparently Melissa tried to mislead the assessor a couple of times. And people don’t like buying dishonest slaves.”
"Oh?" Tariq's voice carried a note of surprise.
"Yeah," Markus continued, his tone turning more solemn. “And she also spilled the beans about Arbek’s bribe at the Health Office and the slave ruse.”
“What? Why would you do that?” Tariq's voice rose, disbelief coloring his words. “We were trying to help you!”
Melissa's eyes dropped, her voice strained as she recounted her ordeal. "I... I had no choice, Tariq. They were torturing me. They drugged me. I can't even remember most of what happened after they gave me the drugs. I don't remember Safina asking about the bribe. I would never betray you guys; you were helping me!"
Tariq's expression softened into one of understanding, though the news clearly troubled him. "They tortured you?"
Melissa explained to them what had happened in the interview. Tariq and Amina looked incredulous.
“Oh, wow I had no idea,” Tariq said. “I hope that won’t spell trouble for Arbek when he returns.”
Amina reached out to squeeze Melissa's hand for comfort. "We'll figure this out. You're safe now, and that's what matters."
“Yeah,” Markus continued his earlier train of thought. “And that is another reason why the bank wouldn’t be able to get her base price. Buyers are wary of this. They wouldn’t want to buy a slave that was involved in illegal activities. If legal action is taken, the slave might get dragged into it, and they might not get the full value out of their investment.”
“Is that why you were able to buy her at that price?” Tariq asked, piecing together the scenario.
“Yes, I offered them the base price for Melissa, and they took it,” Markus confirmed. “I told them she had sentimental value to me.”
—
Melissa, still adjusting to her collar's new inscription, felt the words catch in her throat. "Yes, about that...," she said, her voice a mix of resignation and a plea for understanding. "Markus has no intention of freeing me."
Tariq's smile faltered, his brows knitting together in confusion. "What do you mean, Melissa? Markus, is this true?"
Markus, caught off guard by the directness, tried to soften his stance. "I... I want this to work, Melissa and me. We can build something here, something good."
Amina, her expression one of incredulity, interjected, "But Markus, you can't just decide to keep her as a slave. She was supposed to be free. What are your plans exactly?"
Markus looked between his friends. His initial excitement about having Melissa was now tempered by their scrutiny. "We're going to live here for a while. Together. I'll look after her, provide for her. She won't want for anything."
Tariq shook his head and said, "But Melissa isn't just any slave to us, Markus. We've been trying to get her out of this mess. She's Arbek's girlfriend. How do you think he'll react to this?"
Melissa noted the tension in their expressions. She knew it wasn't slavery they opposed but the betrayal of their efforts to see her free.
Markus sensed the shift in the atmosphere. He spoke with a conviction that he hoped would bridge the gap between his desires and their disapproval.
"I understand this isn't what was planned. But think about it: I saved her from being sold off, never to be seen again. I care for her, and I'll treat her well. We can figure this out, make it work."
Amina looked at Melissa, her eyes filled with sympathy. "Melissa, we didn’t know about this. We thought Markus would be... different. We're glad you've not been auctioned off, but this isn't right either."
Tariq, ever the pragmatist, considered the situation. "All our efforts to get you free, Melissa, and now this... Markus, you need to think about the long term here, not just the immediate. What when Arbek comes back?"
Markus shrugged. The complexity of the situation was not lost on him, that he had essentially bought Arbek’s girlfriend, but his decision seemed set. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, Melissa is with me, and I'll make sure she's happy."
Melissa watched her friends, hoping their shock would turn into action, but she saw only the weight of cultural norms and personal loyalties in their expressions. The conversation drifted towards speculation on Arbek's reaction, but Melissa knew that, in the end, her freedom was now a distant hope, reliant on Markus's change of heart or Arbek's return from England.
As the evening wore on, the group tried to find normalcy in their conversation, but underneath the laughter and shared stories, Melissa felt the chains of her new life tighten, her gaze occasionally meeting Markus's, her suitor in a previous life who had now become her master.
—
After they left Tariq and Amina, Markus took Melissa for a walk along the beach.
Markus talked about how happy he was that she was finally with him. And how much he had hoped that they would end up together. Melissa carefully agreed that she was glad that she was no longer imprisoned at the police station. Markus took her hand to comfort her and then kept holding it like they were a couple. She told him how horrible it had been there to be kept isolated in a cell for most of the time. How her stay had been like solitary confinement. How worried she had been that she’d be sold off into an unknown future with strangers and possibly a brothel. The only time she had met people other than the guards was during visits of her friends and the assessment. Markus agreed that she did not deserve this kind of treatment and that with him, she would have a good life.
They arrived at the marketplace. There, he bought some takeaways for them and they returned back to his hut, walking hand in hand like a couple on a date.
Markus put the food on the table. Melissa knew that as a slave Grabesians would not allow her to use furniture. So she could not sit at the table. She wondered if Markus would make her kneel at the table or how this dinner would happen.
Markus fetched a clean towel from the bathroom and covered one of the chairs with it. Then, he asked her to take a seat and the two had dinner together.
—
The humble light from the single bulb above the table cast long shadows, making the simple meal seem almost ceremonial. Melissa sat on the chair Markus had prepared for her, the towel beneath her a reminder of her current, unacceptable situation.
"I hope today wasn't too hard on you, meeting Tariq and Amina like that," Markus said, his voice careful. "They care about you, but I think they'll come around to understanding our situation."
"It was... difficult," Melissa replied, her eyes on her plate, her tone measured. "They're worried about me, about what this means."
"I know this isn't how we planned things, but I want to make the best of it," Markus continued, trying to sound reassuring. "You're here with me now, and I want you to feel at home."
"Home..." Melissa's voice carried a trace of irony. "I should have been free a week ago, Markus. Not here."
Markus reached across the table, his hand touching hers, trying to convey sincerity. "I've been thinking about what we could do, you know, together. Maybe we can build something here, a life. What do you think you'd like to do?"
Melissa's mind raced through possibilities, all shadowed by her current status. "I... I don't know," she said, her voice tinged with a guarded hope. "I've been so focused on getting out of that cell, I haven't thought much beyond that. I just want to feel safe, to have some say in my life again."
"I know it sounds contradictory," Markus admitted, his hand still on hers. "But I want you to be more than just a slave. I want you to be my girlfriend."
Melissa subtly withdrew her hand, her voice soft but probing. "Markus, I need to understand... how do you see this working? You will keep me naked and collared as your slave, but also... somehow I’ll also be your ‘girlfriend’?"
"I want this to work, Mel," Markus responded, leaning back slightly, his words carefully chosen. "We can make this work, you and me."
Melissa looked into his eyes shyly, she touched her collar and lightly pulled at the D-ring. Her voice was careful, but she had to know, "And what about my freedom, Markus? How long will you keep me like this?"
"I don’t know, Melissa," Markus said, his tone reluctant, his gaze drifting away before returning to her. "I have never had a slave before. Let’s see how this goes and maybe one day, we can talk about it. For now, I want you to feel safe here with me."
"Thank you for the meal," she added formally, acknowledging the gesture but not the underlying situation. Her mind calculated the days, the moments, looking for an opportunity to reclaim her life.
—
Markus took her hand and got up from the table. Melissa stood as well. Markus gave her a heartfelt hug. He felt shivers of happiness from holding the love of his life in his hands. Naked and his to command. He kissed her and held the back of her head with one hand to gently push her lips against his. His happiness was slightly tainted from knowing that if he were to free her then this would all be over. She would be out here the moment he unlocked her collar.
Melissa understood what was about to happen. The walk along the beach, the shopping for food and the dinner at his place. The entire evening had been in the form of a date. And now at the end of the date he was making his move on her. And she had no choice but to yield to any advance he made on her.
But she also knew that without his intervention, if he had not bought her, she would still be imprisoned at the police station. At this very moment, she would be locked in a cell, alone and fretting about a future in which she had been sold to some brothel. And it was because of him that she was out of there and this possible future had been wiped out. Instead, she was out in the world again. She was able to talk to him, Tariq and Amina without being shackled on her hands and legs and chained to the floor in a kneeling position. She was eating normal food again, good food even and had spent an evening that would have been pleasant under different circumstances.
And it had been Markus’s desire for her that had made all of this possible.
Markus was not a bad person, but she could also not pretend that she had a passion for him. She felt resentment for him that he planned to keep her as his captive. This had been a long day and she was exhausted. She wanted this to be over with so she could sleep in a soft bed for the night.
Melissa decided that she couldn’t pretend she was passionate, but she would also not resist him.
—
Markus took Melissa's hand, leading her to the bedroom. He hugged her, and she felt the warmth of his skin against hers, his heartbeat steady compared to hers, which was racing with a mix of dread and resignation.
He undressed and pulled her onto the bed, guiding her to lie on top of him. His arms wrapped around her, pressing her close, her face against his neck. Melissa felt his erection against her thigh, a clear sign that he was ready.
"I dreamed of this," Markus whispered, his voice a mix of longing and possession.
Melissa, feeling the weight of her situation, didn't reply immediately. She tried to adjust, her body tensing at his touch. "This isn't what you dreamed of," she finally said, her voice flat, as she felt him at her entrance.
Markus paused, "What do you mean?"
"This is… the reality," she said, lifting her head slightly to look at him, her fingers brushing against the collar. "I don't have a choice."
He didn't respond with words, instead, he began to push his penis into her. Melissa felt a wave of discomfort and her body betraying her with involuntary responses. She grimaced and reached down to help guide his penis in to ease the entry. His movements were steady, his breathing heavy against her ear.
"I'm not your... first choice, but you did choose me," Markus said between breaths, his voice strained.
Melissa didn't want to engage, focusing instead on her discomfort, "I didn't want you to leave me there."
"I want this to be good for you," he panted, his pace quickening. "I want to give you a good life."
"A life... as your slave?" she managed to say, her voice trembling.
"You're not just a slave to me," he replied, his thrusts becoming more urgent.
She felt her body responding, the physical sensation building despite her mind's resistance. "Love isn't... something you can buy," she whispered, her words coming out in short bursts as she struggled with her emotions.
"I didn't buy your love," Markus said, slowing down to look at her. "I bought you to save you."
Melissa didn't respond, her mind racing with the implications of his words. She felt the warmth spreading, her body reacting to the rhythm Markus set, even as she wished she could control it.
"Time," he said, his voice hopeful. "Give it time."
"Time?" she echoed, her breath catching as sensations built. "I'm your slave."
He shifted, rolling her onto her back, entering her again with a motion that made her breath hitch. "I didn’t enslave you."
Her mind was a mess. She wanted to pause this to sort herself out, but her body was not hers to command at this moment. She felt the climax approaching, an unwanted response to his actions. "Do you think ownership... is love?" she gasped out.
"I care for you," he said, his movements relentless now. "More than he ever did."
The physicality overwhelmed her, and despite her emotional turmoil, her body reached its peak, a release that was as much from tension as from pleasure. Markus followed shortly after, his body shuddering against hers.
Afterwards, he looked at her, planted a gentle kiss on her lips, his breath still uneven, and removed his penis out of her.
"We'll find a way, Melissa, to make this work. To give you freedom within our life together," he whispered, his voice a mix of desire and determination.
The room fell into silence, the weight of their reality settling like a dense fog. Melissa felt Markus's semen seeping out of her. She got up silently, her steps mechanical. She walked to the bathroom, feeling the floor against her bare feet. In the bathroom, she cleaned herself up. In the mirror she saw her new collar for the first time. She turned it to read the inscription: “Melissa Maurer, property of Markus Wagner.”
—
When she returned to the bed, she found Markus had put on his pajamas, which created a contrast with her own enforced nudity. He smiled at her, and she laid down next to him.
Markus broke the silence. His voice was tentative as if feeling out the boundaries of their new reality.
"Melissa, I know this isn't how either of us imagined things would go."
Melissa, her voice still heavy with the weight of their situation, replied, "You said you wanted to save me, Markus. But what price do I have to pay for that? A life as a slave to you?"
Markus looked at her with a mix of guilt and earnestness and tried to explain, "I bought you because it was the only way to keep you safe from... the Grabesian slave system."
Melissa turned her head to face him, her eyes searching his for sincerity. "I am grateful that you rescued me. But love isn't something you can buy, Markus. I’m just your prisoner now."
Markus nodded, his expression reflecting his inner turmoil. "I know it looks like I've become your new slave master now, but that wasn't my intention. Maybe... maybe one day, when we've figured this out, I can give you back your freedom."
Melissa sat up, her voice laced with irony and a hint of hope, "Even if you free me, Markus, I'll carry this experience with me forever. It changes everything. But maybe, just maybe, can we find a way to live together, where I'm free? Without this?" She pulled lightly at the D-ring of her collar to make her point.
Markus nodded, his expression softening. "I would like that, Melissa. I want us to find a way to make this work, to give you some freedom within our life together."
Melissa said with some irony, "Freedom within captivity? How does that work, Markus?"
Markus sighed, running a hand through his hair, "I mean... time, Melissa. Give it time. We can build something here. I want you to have choices again, to feel safe and cared for."
Melissa looked down at Markus. Her fingers traced the inscription. "Do you really think ownership can lead to love? That chain around my neck says otherwise."
Markus sat up and reached out, his hand hovering near hers, not daring to touch. "I care for you, more than he ever did. I want to prove that to you, every day."
Melissa pulled away slightly, her gaze distant. "It wasn't you who enslaved me, but you're the one holding the key now. What kind of life do you envision for me, Markus? One where I'm always under your control?"
Markus looked uncomfortable, "I see a life where you're not just a slave but my partner. I know it's hard to see now, but I want us to have that chance to be together, genuinely."
Melissa shook her head, the reality of her situation pressing down on her. "I need more than just a chance, Markus. I need my life back. My freedom back."
Markus lay back. He stared at the ceiling with the weight of their conversation settling in. "And I want to give that to you, Melissa. But I also want you to be with me. Can we not find a middle ground?"
Melissa lay back down, her voice barely a whisper, "I don't know if there is one, Markus. Not with this collar on."
—
Markus was lying beside Melissa in the dim light of the bedroom. He shifted uncomfortably before speaking. "Melissa, there's something I got in preparation for you moving in with me. I need to feel secure, at least at the beginning."
Melissa turned her head to look at him, confusion and suspicion knitting her brows together. "What do you mean?"
Markus reached over to the bedside drawer, and pulled out a set of restraints — handcuffs and leg irons connected by a central chain. His voice was calm but firm. "I need to know that I can trust you, especially while we're sleeping. This is just temporary, until you've earned that trust."
Melissa sat up abruptly, her eyes wide with indignation. "You're going to chain me up? Like I'm some kind of criminal?"
Markus looked at her, his expression a mix of regret and determination. "It's not about you being a criminal, Mel. It's about ensuring our safety while we adjust. Once I know you won't... do something impulsive, these won't be necessary anymore."
Melissa shook her head. Her voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt. "This is how you want to start our nights together? By locking me down?"
Markus sighed. He held out the handcuffs. "Please, Melissa, hold out your hands. It's just for tonight, or until I'm sure."
Melissa hesitated, her gaze moved between Markus's face and the restraints. Her heart felt heavy, but she slowly extended her wrists. "You shouldn’t do this, Markus."
Markus, with a resigned look, gently but firmly locked the handcuffs around her wrists. His voice was soft, almost apologetic. "I know it's not ideal, but we need to build trust, Mel. And this... this is part of that."
He then passed the central chain between the bars of the headboard and reduced the slack of the central chain by locking the ankle chains to a bar closer to his side of the bed. This ensured that she couldn't use her hands to hurt him while he was sleeping.
"I'm sorry it has to be like this," he whispered.
Melissa lay down, the chains clinking softly, her body tense. She stared at the ceiling, the cold metal of the restraints a constant reminder of her captivity. "I get why you're doing this, Markus, but I wish you wouldn’t chain me for the night," she whispered.
—
Her mind was chaotic. Once again she thought about how she should have been free by now. Markus's breathing evened out, signaling his descent into sleep. Melissa lay there, feeling the weight of the day, the transition from a cell to this bed, from one form of captivity to another. Her body was tired, her mind exhausted by the day's events, but sleep would not come easily.
The unfamiliar weight of the handcuffs rested on her wrists, and the chains went taut when she tried to lower her hands beyond her neck. The sensation was alien, constricting her usual movements; she was accustomed to tossing and turning, stretching her arms out wide, or even just scratching an itch. Now, all those simple, taken-for-granted actions were denied to her.
With her hands above her head, she tried to find a comfortable position. Normally she would lie on her side, with her head resting on one arm and the other in front of her. But that was impossible now. The handcuffs forced her to keep her arms together, and lying on her side was not comfortable like this.
She attempted to shift to find a comfortable position. Each time she moved she was met with the clinking of her chains, a sound that echoed her helplessness. Annoyance surged within her. She pulled her hands down, in an attempt to slip her hands out of the cuffs. But Markus had pushed the bows of the cuffs far enough into the ratchets that the cuffs stayed on her wrists without even sliding up her hands. She tugged at the restraints, hoping against hope for some give, some extra slack she might be able to use. There was none. The chains were resolute, unyielding to her pulls. When she yanked in frustration, the metal bit slightly into her skin.
The sound of her struggles must have disturbed Markus because he stirred, making gentle shushing sounds to calm her down. His hand reached out, caressing her cheek, then moving to place a kiss there, another on her lips. His touch was meant to soothe, but to Melissa, it felt more like an assertion of his dominance over her, even in these quiet moments. His hand then wandered, cupping her breast, his fingers gently stroking her vagina, a touch that under different circumstances might have been intimate but now felt like another layer of control. He settled beside her, his hand resting on her breast, fingers idly playing with her nipple, his breathing evening out as he drifted back to sleep.
Melissa, left with her thoughts, felt the weight of her situation. Markus had cuffed her because he didn't trust her, because he feared she might do him harm while he slept. She would not have done this anyway, but now, with so little slack allowed to her hands, she could not even reach him if she wanted to. Not only her hands were rendered useless, but her entire body was confined to the space his chains allowed.
Despite the discomfort, the day's exhaustion began to weigh on her. She had woken in a cell at the police station in the morning with her fate still unknown to her, faced the reality of being sold, navigated a pseudo-date with her new 'owner,' and endured two sexual encounters, each under the direction of her new owner Markus. The physical and emotional toll of the day was immense, and even though her mind raced with indignation, resentment, and the raw desire to be free, her body surrendered to the fatigue.
In the quiet of the night, with Markus asleep beside her, his hand still possessively on her, Melissa's thoughts were a tumult of defiance and resignation. She was chained, literally and metaphorically, to this new life, a fact she'd have to live with until Markus chose to release her. Eventually, the exhaustion overtook her thoughts, and she drifted into a fitful sleep, her body and mind at odds, but both momentarily subdued by the sheer necessity of rest.
—
Melissa's sleep was shallow, her mind unable to escape the reality of her situation, even in dreams and occasionally awakened when her chains restricted her from a movement within her sleep. The tug of the cuffs on her wrists would wake her up. She would try moving, hear the clinking of her chains and feel the restrictions of the cuffs and drift off again, resigned that the change of sleeping posture was denied to her.
Sometime in the deep hours of the night, she felt the need to pee. But she was immediately reminded of her predicament by the touch of hard metal against her skin. The handcuffs on her wrists and the leg irons attached to the bed's headboard held her fast.
This can't be happening, she thought, as her bladder's insistence grew. She tried shifting her position, hoping the pressure on her bladder would ease. But the chains only clinked in protest, offering no relief.
She lay there, the weight of her captivity now more tangible than ever. The room was dark, the only light seeping in from the moon through a small window. I can't believe this is what my life has become, she thought. Chained like to the bed, unable to go to the bathroom, needing to ask for release to perform the most basic human function.
Reluctantly, she turned her head towards Markus, who was asleep beside her. His breathing was steady. The thought of waking him up, of having to ask him to be released from his chains, made her stomach churn. But the physical need was becoming unbearable.
"Markus," she whispered first, her voice barely above a breath. No response. She tried again, louder this time, "Markus, please wake up."
Markus stirred, his eyes fluttering open, confusion clouding his features as he adjusted to the darkness. "What is it, Mel?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.
"I need to go to the bathroom," Melissa said, her tone a mix of frustration and desperation.
Markus seemed to remember their situation then, his eyes darting to the chains before settling back on her. "Oh, right," he said, sitting up. He reached over to unlock the leg irons from the headboard. He left her wrists still cuffed, but this allowed her to bring her hands down in front of her.
With her hands now in front, though still bound by the handcuffs, she sat up. The chains clattered as she moved. She felt a rush of relief mixed with the sting of degradation as she stepped out of bed with her hands still bound, making her movements awkward. She made her way to the bathroom with her bare feet on the cool floor.
In the bathroom, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. She saw the handcuffs holding her hands together. Is this who I am now? she wondered, the reflection staring back at her seemed almost alien, marked by the chains of Markus's control.
After finishing, she slowly returned to the bedroom, the chains on her wrists jingling softly. Markus was still awake waiting for her, and without a word, he locked the leg irons once again to the headboard. He laid at her side propped up by his right elbow and looked down at her with her hands held over her head with a gentle smile. With his left hand he gently stroked her upward held right arm down to her shoulder and further down along her side.
“I’m so glad you are here with me, Mel,” he whispered and gave her a kiss. Then, he lay back down to go back to sleep.
Melissa stared at the ceiling, the need to pee now replaced by a profound sense of dependency on him. That she needed him for something as simple and intimate as going to the bathroom, his keys to unlock her chains. She listened to Markus's breathing return to the rhythm of sleep, leaving her to the quiet company of her thoughts and the clink of chains.
—
In the morning Melissa woke to the pale light of dawn filtering through the window, her body still bound by the chains to Markus's bed.
The night spent in chains had left Melissa's wrists raw and tender, the metal cuffs having dug into her skin by her involuntary tugs as she had tried to find comfort in her sleep. Her arms ached and her muscles were stiff from being held in an unnatural position all night. The chafing from the handcuffs had left visible red marks on her wrists, and even a light tug at the cuffs now led to a sharp reminder of her captivity. Her body was not used to such restrictions, and the morning light revealed the physical cost of the restraints Markus had subjected her to: red indents on her wrists, the skin around them irritated and slightly swollen.
She lay there, her mind a whirl of reflections from the previous day. The harsh realization hit her anew: she had been close to being lost to the Grabesian slave system and only narrowly escaped a life of permanent enslavement in this foreign land. That had been close, far too close. If Markus hadn't intervened, she would've been lost to the system, sold off to some unknown fate.
Now, tethered to this bed, her freedom of movement was dictated by his whims. Her thoughts drifted to the night before, to the two times Markus had had sex with her, exercising his ownership of her in the most intimate of ways for his sexual gratification. Was this what being a sex slave felt like? For how long would she have to pay the price for her rescue? How long would she be used like this?
The surrealness of her situation struck her once again. Markus owned her. What if she refused him, she thought. What if she just pushed him away next time he wanted to put his penis into her? Sure, she was chained to the bed right now, but she wouldn't be chained like this all day. She hadn't been chained most of the day yesterday. Why wouldn't she just walk away? she thought. Why didn't she refuse him when he directed her to the bedroom or when he inspected her like breeding cattle or when he had sex with him? Why did she just offer her hands when he had wanted to chain her?
Yet, the thought of running away seemed futile.
She contemplated the logistics of escape. This steel collar around her neck clearly marked her as a slave. Even if she managed to steal some money, what good would it do? She couldn't buy anything: No food or a bus ticket away from here. Slaves weren't allowed to handle money. Her survival depended on Markus, on a free person to care for her.
If she approached the police, they would side with Markus; slavery was legal here. They would detain her, contact Markus, and even if she refused to disclose who owned her, her collar, her ear tag, her chip - all would betray her. She couldn't even pretend to be free; in this hot climate, covering her neck would be out of place. People here dressed lightly due to the heat. They certainly didn't cover their necks, and this made any attempt to hide her collar suspicious, an act of falsifying her status, which was illegal.
As long as Markus kept the collar locked on her, this insidious set of cultural and legal rules turned Grabesh into her prison and put her at his mercy.
The clinks of metal when she moved kept reminding her that her life was no longer her own. She had done nothing to deserve this. If this is how Markus treated her now, she was afraid to think what he might do if she rebelled. The memory of the tasers and prods from her time at the Health Office was still vivid in her mind.
She understood now why for slaves resistance was impossible. Everything about her was up to Markus's decisions, his whims. She could argue, resist, but ultimately, her life was in his hands. And beyond that, the unspoken threat of punishment loomed. Markus hadn't punished her yet, nor threatened to, but the capability was there, the knowledge of it a shadow over her.
—
Markus stirred, the morning light piercing through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. He opened his eyes, immediately finding Melissa, her hands still chained to the headboard, her arms stretched above her.
"Good morning, Mel!" he greeted, his voice carrying the warmth of the new day.
He rolled over to her and pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that felt more like a claim than an affection. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in her beauty. Her soft, smooth skin seemed to glow in the morning light, her teardrop-shaped breasts gently rising and falling with each breath, her flat stomach, and the fine, blonde pubic hair that adorned her vagina.
Arousal came quickly for Markus, and he shed his pajamas, laying himself over her, careful to support his weight on his elbows. He spread her legs, his intention clear as he positioned himself, the tip of his penis touching her. He kissed her lips, moved to her cheeks, and traced kisses down to her shoulders.
Her arms, pulled upward by the chains, left her armpits exposed, creating an unintended sense of intimacy and closeness that Markus felt was uniquely his.
Melissa, still adjusting to the morning and the reality of her situation, moaned in discomfort, her voice a mix of protest and plea. The realization that Markus was savoring her scent from such a private area made her uneasy. She tried to lower her arms to cover herself, but the chain pulled taut, preventing it.
"Not now, Markus... we already did it twice. It's too early... and I have to pee."
The tip of his penis was already at the entrance of her vagina, but her words halted him. Frustration bubbled within him; the prospect of morning sex with the love of his life was exciting. He did not want to back down from this. But he was also acutely aware that gaining her affection, her love, meant he had to take her wishes into account as well. He sighed, a heavy, disappointed sound, then paused, as his mind wrestled with his impulses.
"Of course, Mel," he said, his voice lacking the warmth from moments before, now edged with confusion and a hint of guilt. He didn't move immediately. The conflict within him was visible in his eyes. "I... I guess I didn't think about how this would feel for you."
Melissa was relieved that he wouldn't make her have sex with him again right now. But she was still chained to the bed, and her chains also reminded her how she was still his slave, and he was making no motion to change that.
With a sharpness in her tone, she asked, "Can you unchain me, please? I need to use the bathroom."
Markus nodded, the annoyance not entirely masked as he got up from the bed to retrieve the keys from the drawer of the nightstand, his movements slow, almost hesitant. He had used a considerable amount of his savings to save her from being auctioned off into the Grabesian slave system. And she wasn't appreciating him for it. She didn't even realize how much better her life was due to him. Even having quick sex was too much to ask of her. He approached her with a mix of duty and reluctance.
"Yeah, of course," he responded, his tone less commanding in the morning light. He tried to see the situation from her point of view, that she wasn't ready right now, but he still thought she could have at least indulged him in exchange for what he had done for her. But he would respect her wishes, so they could find a semblance of normalcy in their abnormal dynamic.
As Markus unlocked the handcuffs, he noticed the redness of her skin there and the small indentations from where the cuffs had dug in. It showed him the physical toll of her captivity from the many times she must have unconsciously tugged and twisted against her restraints in her sleep. He looked at her wrists for a moment, a flicker of something akin to guilt passing over his features that she paid a physical cost for his control over her.
Melissa rubbed her wrists, glad to be free of the hated cuffs. She stood and stretched her arms, wincing at the soreness that lingered. She hurried out of the room to the bathroom, her steps quick, and the floor cool under her bare feet. The act of being released to use the bathroom, something so mundane, now required permission, a key, and a moment of dependency that made her feel Markus’s control of her. Her reflection in the mirror was that of a woman marked by chains, her eyes reflecting a mix of fatigue and a determination to adapt.
When she returned, Markus had already started brewing coffee. The aroma of coffee was already wafting through the air. He was dressed in his underwear while she would be spending another day of her life naked against her will. Like an animal with her breasts and vagina on display for all to see, creating a visual impression of their different roles in their relationship. They were not just man and woman, but master and slave. He looked at her, his expression a mix of the man she once knew and the one who now held her life in his hands.
The sight of Markus trying to normalize the morning with coffee felt like a mockery of what had transpired this night. Her heart was a battleground of conflicting emotions: gratitude for not being sold off, resentment that he kept her enslaved, and some joy of small blessings like having coffee even when it was overshadowed by the weight of her collar.
"I didn't sleep well," he admitted, his voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and an attempt at normalcy. "I keep thinking about how we can make this work."
He handed her a mug of coffee, and she took it reluctantly, her eyes never leaving his.
Melissa leaned against the doorframe, her gaze wary, her body language guarded. She didn't immediately respond, the silence speaking volumes of her internal conflict.
Anger bubbled within her; Markus was holding her captive, using her for his own sexual gratification, and now he expected her cooperation, to be an accomplice in her own subjugation, to 'make this work.' Yet, she knew she couldn't unleash her fury. An outburst could lead to further control rather than freedom. Provoking him could only worsen her situation. The memory of being chained overnight was still fresh. Her wrists were still sore. Freedom was a distant dream at this moment. She needed to proceed with caution, earn his trust step by step, and perhaps then, she could push for more.
She softened her voice to a tone that was both gentle and persuasive.
"You know, I appreciate how you're trying to make this work for us, Markus," she began, her eyes meeting his with a calculated warmth. "I just... I need us to find a rhythm where I feel like more than just... this." She gestured subtly to her naked form, her wrists still showing the marks of the night's restraints. "It's about what 'making it work' means for me."
Markus paused, the mug of coffee halfway to his lips, his brow furrowing as he processed her words. "What do you mean by that, Mel? What does 'making it work' mean for you?"
Melissa took a sip of her coffee, allowing the silence to stretch, her expression thoughtful. "I mean, maybe we can start with small things. Like, I could help you with breakfast, or we could plan our day together. It would give me something to look forward to, you know? And maybe," she paused, her eyes searching his for any sign of agreement, "we can talk about not using the chains at night. It would show me you trust me, and I think that would help us both sleep better."
Markus listened, his gaze dropping to the coffee in his hand, the steam rising like his thoughts. "I... I didn't think of it like that. I thought if we could just find a routine, some normalcy—"
Melissa smiled lightly, not interrupting but guiding the conversation. "Normalcy for both of us, Markus. I want to feel like I'm part of this life, not just living in it because I have no other choice. And if I can feel that, maybe we can find our way back to something good."
"I want to make that future for us, Mel. I really do," he said, the words sounding more like a hope than a plan. "But I... I'm not sure how to start."
Melissa paused, her eyes downcast as she spoke quietly, "I think... if I could do small things, like help with breakfast or talk about our day, it might make this feel less like... like I'm just here because I have to be."
Markus looked at her, the coffee mug still in his hands, the steam swirling up between them. He seemed to ponder her words, his gaze thoughtful as he absorbed the implication of her request.
"I understand," he finally said, his voice carrying a hint of regret. "I didn't mean for you to feel like that."
Melissa's eyes flickered up to meet his for a moment before returning to the floor. "I know you didn't, Markus. It's just... everything's changed so fast."
He nodded, setting his mug down on the small table nearby. "Let's do that then. You can help with breakfast. I think... I think that would be good for us."
A small smile, almost imperceptible, touched Melissa's lips, giving her a fleeting sense of control over her situation. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice still low, careful not to push too far.
Markus moved to the kitchen area, his movements slow, perhaps contemplating how to navigate this new dynamic. "What would you like to make?" he asked, attempting to engage her in something that felt normal, mundane.
Melissa followed him, her steps quiet, her nudity a constant reminder of her status yet overshadowed by the small act of inclusion. "Maybe some eggs? With toast?" She suggested, her voice gaining a bit more confidence as she spoke about something as ordinary as a meal.
"Sure," Markus agreed, pulling out a carton of eggs from the fridge. "Can you slice some bread for the toast while I get these started?"
Melissa nodded, grateful for the task. She moved to the counter where the bread was kept, her actions deliberate, finding a rhythm in the mundane task that gave her a semblance of agency. As she sliced the bread, she could feel Markus's eyes on her, not with possession but with something akin to partnership, even if it was a fragile one.
As they worked side by side, the silence was punctuated by the crack of eggs and the rustle of bread, creating a veneer of normalcy in their surreal circumstances. Markus started to speak, his tone cautious, "I want to trust you, Melissa. I really do. It's just hard for me to let go after... everything."
Melissa paused, placing the slices into the toaster, then turned to him, her expression one of confusion. "What do you mean by 'everything'?"
Markus sighed, his gaze drifting to the eggs he was cooking, then back to her. "I mean, after you became a slave here in Grabesh, everything changed. I spent a lot of money and put a lot on the line to get you out of the police station. There's this part of me that fears you might try to escape or... or maybe not feel the same way about me now that you're... you know, under my ownership."
He paused, his voice softening. "And then there's how you tried to mislead the assessors, and you spoke about Arbek's bribe, which could have legal implications. I understand that you were pressured, but I don't want to get into trouble someday like him. Here, in this culture, slaves aren't seen as trustworthy by default, and I've been influenced by that, even if I don't want to be. I guess I'm just scared that if I let go, if I trust you completely, I will lose you to your freedom."
Melissa listened, her heart sinking as she understood the depth of his fears and the cultural and personal barriers they faced. "I see," she said quietly, her voice reflecting a mix of understanding and sorrow. "I didn't realize how much that weighed on you."
The toast popped up, and Markus handed her the butter, their fingers brushing lightly. It was a simple act, but it carried weight in their current context. "Yeah," he said, almost to himself, "it's not easy for either of us."
They ate breakfast at the table, Melissa sitting on the chair with the towel Markus had placed there the night before, a small concession to her dignity. The meal was quiet, but it was different from the tension of the previous night; there was an undercurrent of tentative hope, a silent agreement to try and bridge the vast gap between them.
