Futanarium 1: An Erotic Short Story Bundle (5 page)

They both knew that adoration had to lead into worship eventually, mistress’ fingers pushing assertively into Tanya’s long, sleep-messy locks of hair. She would have swallowed if not for the gag, but as it was, she could only shuffle slightly closer and try to align herself as much as possible as her head was aligned, her lips allowed to grace the tip with the flimsiest of touches. It was enough, though.

Tanya’s breathing quickly became panting, warm bursts of air colliding with the thick shaft. Even with the rails holding her teeth apart, she could still feel the veined skin being grazed. Though it could not last, she forced her jaws further apart, her slightly glazed-over eyes now fully centered on the woman above her. Though she registered those intense amber eyes, her attention was focused on relaxing her throat, trying to let her tongue sink to the bottom of her mouth as that length pushed further in.

She felt the first light twinge of rejection as the head pushed past her tongue’s bulge, her eyelids shutting as she struggled to hold still and steady. It pushed deeper, pushed her apart, and finally, it cut off her breathing. Her attention was now fully on the woman that held her head, and life, in her hands, looking up past her brows as she struggled not to bend over as a reaction to the mercilessly hard contractions her esophagus produced.

It became too much. She shook, tears watering her eyes and trailing over her cheeks again as she bent forwards as best she could. There was no more left in her stomach but her body still desperately tried to clear the blockage by retching. She could not stop it, could just hang in her mistress’ hands and dry heave. For an eternity of ten seconds it continued. When it was over, those demanding hands still held her in place. Mistress let her cry tears of pain as searing exhaustion laced her chest but did not let her go.

Without even noticing it, she had bitten down as hard as she could. Her teeth were hovering so close to Isha’s shaft that she could feel a connection that was not there, the metal gag having done its job. Tears rolled unobstructed down Tanya’s face, her eyes only opening to blink moisture away. Her cheeks, her entire head, felt flushed and warm, and the pressure was back in her chest. Her throat burned around the thick shaft, her shoulders thrashing jerkily around. Her body was fighting for its life again, and she tried desperately to subdue the overwhelming feeling of extreme urgency, tried to gain control.

Slowly, she forced her eyes open. Isha sat above her, faint muscle showing on her arms as she held her pet in place, her eyes as serious and intense as ever. For a few brief, beautiful seconds, Tanya managed to give her mistress what she had promised. She held her primal side in check, kept her body still and offered herself completely. Surrendered, and trusted. That was all she could manage. A few seconds, then she broke down again, struggling weakly as her mind began its inexorable retreat.

Rather than let her flirt with unconsciousness, though, Isha eased her grip. It was with another desperate, wet gasp that Tanya pulled back, sitting like a slumped L as she heaved in quick, superficial breaths. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks reddened. She could take no more and they both knew it, the girl consciously letting thick strands of drool run from her lips and dangle from her chin. She was too tired to do anything but hold herself up.

For a moment Tanya just sat on her heels, her chest heaving with her gradually calming breaths. She had disappointed once again. She realized that many would consider her crazy for that thought, for thinking she had disappointed after willingly suffering through asphyxiation, but the woman above her had given her new strength when she thought she had none. Isha had shown her that she was not as frail as she had always been taught. It was the strength she found in servitude that let her go through her life with head raised high, and no price was too extravagant to pay for what she had received. Her jaw set harshly, her head angled towards the floor.

In that moment, her keeper and savior wrapped comforting, encouraging arms around her shaking, weak form. Still wearing her gag, arms still tied behind her back, Tanya leaned into her mistress’ embrace and sobbed. Without words, they both apologized to the other. One for failing, one for inflicting failure. And beneath it all, beneath the physical weakness, beneath the bitter tears, both of them took refuge in a bond of trust that had been earned through frightening trials faced together. The decked table was forgotten, just as their surroundings were. For a time they merely huddled together on the floor, mistress letting pet empty her tears in safety.

Sometimes tears are cried not for a reason that can be verbalized, but for a reason that transcends human understanding or memory. Those were the tears that Tanya cried. Tears for forgotten tragedies and forgotten loss, big and small. It seemed that new memory holes appeared every week, and in her mistress she had finally found someone who would hold her at her weakest and let her weep the senseless sadness away.

It is impossible to really get comfortable when you are in stocks. That was the lesson Tanya had taken away from the evening so far. There had been no obvious reason why her mistress had placed in the stocks and then locked her in the “cell” of the house; a small, perfectly square room with no windows and a solid wooden door. It was near-perfect darkness save the minute crack of light at the bottom of the door. That was all the link she had with the outside world, all the link she'd had for the last 2 hours.

At first she had felt an excited tingling in the pit of her stomach, but as minutes dragged on and there was no sign of Isha she had started to settle, even become a little annoyed. With her hands locked to either side of her head in the thankfully padded plank it was hard to find a position that was at once dignified and relaxing. Sit up straight too long and her arms began to hurt, eventually falling asleep.

The only thing she could really do was lie down on the bundle of sheets in the corner of the room. She could not always see what the rhyme or reason to her mistress’ deeds was as they were being performed, but it usually became clear afterwards if nothing else. It was obvious that their arrangement was as much for teaching as it was for pleasure.

When Isha had found Tanya she had been deadened; just another diminutive, malnourished youngster on the streets of a city with more homeless than it knew what to do with. At first Tanya had just gone along with what she was asked to do. She had had nothing left that could be taken away save her life, and even that had been less precious to her than most people could imagine. Isha had taken her in.

Slowly, through methods that seemed like torture and abuse, the mistress had peeled away layer upon layer of emotional barriers to once again uncover the person that had hidden away. It had not as much been through words as it had been through breaking and rebuilding just a little stronger every time. Isha was there to let her pet cry out the horrors of the past, but she was there to make Tanya face them too. Face them, rise above them and slowly become capable of seeing herself as a real person again. A person who could let herself be something to someone, a person who could be valued for what she was. When she found out what she was.

Tanya turned to lie on her back instead, staring up in the blackness above her. At first she had been nothing. Like a masseuse of the soul Isha had drawn something, anything, out of her at first. Anger was what she remembered. The first feeling had been anger at those who had treated her poorly; anger at the world; anger at Isha for forcing her to continue to exist. But it had passed. Over raging, thrashing and struggling weeks it had passed, all while Isha spoke to her and gave her someone to direct her anger at.

But it had passed. Sorrow and despair had come next as memories returned to her starved mind and weighed her down. In those dark days Isha had held her pet’s head above the surface of the water and kept her sane.

And finally, when rage and sorrow had become embers instead of firestorms, she allowed herself to relax for the first time in years in the arms of someone she had known for less than two months; someone who knew more about her than anyone else ever had. Since then she'd had someone to confess to; someone who listened, understood and told her the truth she needed to hear. Someone who slowly but surely drew her back up from nothing, both physically and mentally, to something. But something was not enough. She had to be someone, too. That was what Isha had said.

“When I found you, you were all necessity. After a few months possibility had entered your mind too, Tanya, but you are still not someone.” Tanya did not understand; she had struggled not to take it as an insult. That was not her mistress’ way. No, she wanted her pet to think clearly; to reflect and continue to move forward as a person. Even in the mornings, when Tanya struggled to give the gift she promised to Isha, there was still an element of teacher/student in what they did.

Though her mistress had never posed the question directly it always floated on the edge of their conversations and Tanya had her answer ready. Before all the bad she had been something. Had a profession, a life, but that had been all she was. She had not considered herself on a deeper level than that. Now she thought she had. The months of serving Isha had gradually, carefully so as to not shock her, shown her what she was. A submissive. She existed to serve and please. That was her answer.

Even then she still felt insecure about it. Isha always found a way to dig deeper, to explore more of her than she had intended to give away or make her realize things about herself that she might not have wanted to realize. After two weeks of breakfast training, for example, she had quietly confessed that she liked being in another’s hands so completely that her life depended on it. It was not an unpleasant realization, but worrying. Her mind and heart had clashed over the feeling for a week before she had even dared utter it to her mistress.

The key rattled in the lock and then clacked the door open. Tanya pushed to the edge of the bed and sat up straight. The light outside was dim and Isha had taken care not to have any light source in direct view. Even so Tanya squinted, Two hours of darkness was enough to make anyone sensitive. She still did as she had been taught, sliding off the edge of the bed and onto her knees. The stone felt cold against her skin. Her eyes sank to the floor and she muttered a quiet greeting.

“Mistress.”

The sorceress stepped into the room, leaving the door halfway opened behind her. Tanya dared a short glance up, seeing her mistress’ calm amber eyes and most importantly; seeing her lips curve in a small smile. She looked down again; not based on any given command, merely because it felt right. When Isha wanted her pet’s eyes she would make it very clear.

The fresher air from outside had followed Isha into the room and now gradually rose to envelop Tanya. It smelled like the pine-scented soap that her mistress used in the bath. The thought of what usually followed these baths made her realize that she needed to swallow, her eyes locked onto the pale skin of her mistress’ feet as she slowly walked closer. Tanya dared another quick glance up, catching the swish of a white and black, loose plaid miniskirt.

She felt soft fingertips push against her cheekbone and caress down, instinctively angling her head upwards before Isha had had the chance to begin the process with digits curled around her pet’s chin. Until this moment her mistress’ entrance had made Tanya forget about the stocks. Now the hinge clacked sharply as shifted forward on her knees, her breath just barely catching in her throat before being exhaled through her nose. She looked up with the waiting and just slightly nervous eyes of the servant.

“Tanya, why do you think I put you in here? In the stocks?”

She hesitated, blinking a few times, giving herself time to think before replying. “You wanted me to think. To be as undistracted as possible by anything other than my thoughts. I’m guessing that’s why you put me in the stocks, too.”

Isha nodded, her thumb drawing circles on her pet’s cheek. It was a caress, but an expectant one. Something that could go either way depending on the answers she received. She gave Tanya a light scratching under her chin, something she might have done for any other animal too. “Yes. And what’ve you thought about while in here, Tanya?”

Tanya swallowed reluctantly. It was easy to think clearly when she was alone in the dark, but another thing to present them as confidently as they had been in her mind. “I... I thought about when you found me. When I was angry and depressed. How you pulled me out of that. And then I thought about-- About who I am.”

“And who are you, Tanya?”

She had settled on her answer, but now she had absolutely no wish to say it. Her eyes lowered even though her head was still held at an upwards angle to face her mistress; it was not fear of being harmed that stopped her, rather it was fear of disappointing. That she would let the woman who had raised her up from nothing down.

“Tanya?”

“
I-- I’m sorry. It’s just... I don’t know what you want me to answer.”

“
What -I- want you to answer?” Isha scoffed. “Did I ask you who you thought I wanted you to be?”

“
No, mistress,” she said. She could feel the previously gentle fingers tightening their grip and it made her chest knot. She looked up again, up at the stern face she could glimpse. She had disappointed, mostly because she was afraid of disappointing. “I’m sorry.”

“
Don’t apologize. Answer the question, Tanya.”

“
I thought... Before, I had a profession and a life. It was who I was back then and I didn’t think about anything else. And now, well, you made me think. Ever since you first helped me you’ve slowly helped me to realize that I’m a servant. A pleaser, a subm--“ She was stopped mid-word by an unexpected, forceful smack. She was unprepared, her head turning right, the harsh blow still ringing in her ears as her cheek flared up in warmth.