Bankrupt Ch. 03

She paused for an appreciative whistle.

"Now that's some high level mindfuckery right there."

"So what, I convince myself that this is all for my own good, and everything will be ok? That sounds like the opposite of help. It sounds like giving in."

"No, see, that's the trick. Like I said, two things at once, both contradictory. In one thought, you're giving in, but in the other, this is just one step on your master plan to screw him over."

I bit my lip. It all sounded so reasonable when she put it like that, but still I found myself afraid.

"You don't know what it's like, Hope," I told her, "Every second is just so... intense. It gets into your head, every part of it. I don't know if I can do that, not when he's standing over me."

She leaned back, eyes closed as she thought. It proved hard not to stare at her naked body. What had awoken in me that I found this desirable? Soft curves and roundness drew my eye now, though even a passing thought of Victor told me that these desires were not to the exclusion of my lust for men. Hope was no toned athlete, that much was clear. A preference for reading had left her bereft of muscles, and with perhaps a bit more around the belly and hips than was normal, though it had made her breasts all the more stunning. Not quite plump, at least to my eyes, but neither was she lean. Whatever she was, it was surprisingly pleasant.

"Maybe that's what the meditation is for," she said, "A way to contextualize what you've experienced, without all the baggage that goes along with it."

"Perhaps," I admitted.

"Why don't we try it now?"

"What, here?"

"Why not? It'll be easier if you have someone to talk you through it, at least the first time."

"I guess," said, reaching towards my snatch to remove that distraction.

"No, leave it."

"But-"

"Distractions are everywhere, especially for you. If you can't deal with this one distraction, how will you manage others? At least it's not a meter of dirty rice water."

"Yeah," I admitted, "Especially with how horny I get, or whenever I'm around my own- whenever I'm around Victor. I can hardly fight it."

"You can't fight it," she told me, massaging my shoulders gently. "Not directly. It's inside your head. You can't outsmart it, because it's your brain that's being used. What you can do, at least a little, is decide what obedience means. Don't think of refusal, because it will strip that down in a heartbeat. Think always on obedience, and it will be up to you what that obedience means."

"I have to give myself to him? That's your answer?"

"Only a part," she said, her soothing voice barely above a whisper in my ear. "It's the only way to hold back the rest."

What meager promises she made me. No sooner had offered a hint of hope than she told me it required sacrificing myself upon the altar of Victor's desire. A fine game that would be, to eagerly revoke any hint of independence in hopes of playing at some hidden spark of rebellion that might never manifest. What good was that while I remained his plaything?

But I remembered how happy I became whenever Victor commanded me, how gladly my body surrendered to his every desire. How long could I hold out, when I loved giving in? Was there really any alternative to what Hope offered? If I was bound to surrender no matter what, then why not do it on my terms, in a way

So long as there was still a part of me that desired freedom, then not all was lost.

"Then let's begin," I told her. Hope's smile told me that she had expected no less.

I sat back and closed my eyes, feeling awkward as I did so. Right, so I'm dressed like a five dollar streetwalker- and only half dressed at that- but it's the meditation that makes me feel ridiculous. Keep it classy, subconscious.

"How's this work? I just sit back and what, think of nothing?"

If anything, that only made the thoughts come all that faster. The more I tried to clear my head, the faster they flowed. Random crap, mostly. That first night with Victor, my upcoming biology exam, or that shopping trip I took to Paris three months ago. The dress I'd bought then was really cute. Ruined now, though he still made me wear it sometimes. It was so thin, especially once the underlining was cut away. Victor's hardon felt so obvious whenever I sat on his lap wearing it.

"That's actually a myth, or at least a misconception," Hope said. "You're not trying to make your mind empty. The point is more about paying attention to what you are thinking. Mindfulness, they call it. Don't just let your thoughts rush past you, or get caught up in them. Look at each thought, examine it, consider what it means. Then finish with it, set it aside."

"Ok. Mindfulness. I can do this."

Strangely, it was harder to call my thoughts into being now that I was supposed to have them. Was my head clear now? It didn't really feel that way, more like my skull was so clogged up that nothing could squirm its way into the forefront.

"Tell me what you're thinking of."

"Honestly, the meditation itself."

"That's fine," Hope said, giving my bare shoulder a comforting squeeze. "Think on it, examine your thoughts. How you feel about it, what reactions it evokes. Consider why you feel that way."

"I'm scared," I admitted, "Worried that this is a fool's hope, that I won't be able to do it. That I'll do it wrong."

"And do you know why you feel that way?"

"Because so much else has gone wrong so far. Because I couldn't resist him that first time, and I'm not sure I ever will be able to."

"Good," she told me.

"Good?"

"You know why you feel that way. Now you can set it aside and move on."

It's funny, but she was right. I could continue forward. It wasn't that my fears had vanished. I was still terrified that this was all a useless gesture, one vain attempt that would end in my inevitable surrender regardless. The fear was still there, but I knew it now, I could comprehend it. The fear I could set aside for now, it would still be there to deal with later.

Again, my first night with Victor came to mind. I did as Hope had instructed, and viewed it once more from afar, dissecting my memories and feelings with a dispassionate eye. The horror I had felt at seeing him was crystal clear. No trouble understanding where that emotion had risen from. The lust that face evoked had proved an unexpected horror at the time, but now that I had grown used to it I could examine it with a more dispassionate eye. Yes, I lusted after Victor. There was no denying that, and any protests to the contrary were self delusion. The urges he had instilled into me were real, all the things I felt were. Artificial, yes, but they were a part of me now. Even here, I wished that he would come and-

"I don't think it's working?" I told her.

"Why not?"

"Because, well. I'm staring to feel, I mean, the things I'm thinking are making me... horny. -Er, hornier."

"That's fine"

"It is? I thought the whole point was supposed to be all dispassionate. Think, not feel."

"I'm not asking you to turn yourself into a robot," Hope laughed. "Your emotions are a part of you just as much as your thoughts are. Think, feel, but don't let them dominate you. Acknowledge them, examine them, understand how they effect you, and then move on."

"I'll try."

"There is no try, do or-"

"Hey, I thought you were supposed to be a book nerd."

"Just because I like books, doesn't mean I can't watch classic vids, too."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Ok, back to meditating."

As she said, I left my thoughts alone and made a show of examining how the thoughts had made me feel. Thoughts of Victor set my whole body afire with pleasant tingles. Down between my legs, my pussy swelled with the heat of my desire. The vibrator Hope had left there still buzzed faintly, recalling the many times this week that Victor had taken me in that same hole. My breasts felt full and heavy, yearning to be touched. In my mind, I could all but feel Victor's hands upon them. Rough and grasping as his grip was, it felt as though my body had been made for his touch.

Examining my thoughts as the passed, it was easy to see my focus in action. Sooner or later, all desires led to Victor. I might find satisfaction from a casual tryst, and my time with Hope told me that pleasure could be found there as well, but true completion came from him, and him alone. I saw these thoughts and knew them, then let them pass without bothering me. They were true, there was no denying them, but that mean they were unchangeable.

Moment by moment, I examined my time with the chip, brining to the forefront each petty trial and humiliation. Throughout it all had been my evergrowing sense of helplessness, an emotion that kindled a deep and needful lust within me. It still did, in fact. The mere thought of my helplessness was enough to stoke a heat within. Helplessness fed desire, and desire primed helpless surrender. A self fulfilling cycle, no less powerful for being noted, but noted nonetheless.

"When you look back on this week," Hope said, breaking the long silence, "Would you say that you were a good slave?"

Another surge of thoughts swept past, almost too quick to catalog, or even comprehend. Images of submission, of delightful capitulation that I had so utterly enjoyed.

"Hope, stop." my words were half moan. For all my newfound control, those thoughts still had the power to move me deeply. "Those are... dangerous thoughts. I can't, I mustn't."

A good slave. Just the merest hint of that thought drove me wild. In those words lay my true and ultimate purpose, the culmination of my entire being. They stirred in me a new desire, one that could only be truly slaked through utter and abject surrender of all that I was.

"Answer the question."

"I- yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I was a good slave. I am a good slave!"

The weight of that admission- to myself as much as to her- pressed down upon me. It threatened to drown all that I was under the force of those words.

"Good, now let it go."

A good slave, that was what I was. What else was I? Nothing seemed to matter, not next to the stark reality of my new identity. All else seemed weak and inconsequential besides that truth.

"I'm not sure I can."

"You can! You must!" she snapped. "This thought is no different than all the others. Acknowledge it, and then release it."

Acknowledge and release, was that something I could do? Perhaps. I was a slave, a good slave. That was fact now, unassailable truth. But... just because it was true, didn't mean I needed to worry about it now. It could go to the side with the others, and still remain just as true as before.

"I think I'm ok," I said at last. "At least for now."

The thought still tugged at me, seductive in the simplicity of its surrender. It required effort not to turn towards it once more. Something was needed to replace it.

"Now look back on this week again," Hope spoke.

"I can't. I already did it, I can't go back there."

"Look back on this week, would you say that you took your first steps towards freedom?"

It was painful to examine, but again her words spoke true. I had come to the library of my own accord. I had given myself to Hope in an effort to find a solution. A promising lead that I was following at this very moment.

"Yes." Another admission, even more reluctant than the last. "I took my first steps towards freedom."

The words were true, but they sat ugly in my mouth. That wasn't what I was meant to do, or meant to be. It was what I wanted, yes, but now that I spoke the words, it seemed wrong of me to want it so. How wretchedly deviant must I be, that I would wish to deprive myself so, when instead I might seek bliss in joyful surrender to my master.

"It feels wrong, Hope. Why, why does it feel wrong? It shouldn't!"

Tears ran from my eyes, and soft sobs broke apart my words.

"Shhh..." Hope said. "Now picture both ideas, and hold on to them. They're still both true, aren't they?"

"I guess"

"Go ahead and say it, say them both."

"I'm and good slave," I said, voice trembling, "and I-"

The words stuck.

"and I'm working to free myself." Hope prompted.

"I'm a good slave and I'm working to free myself."

It came easier this time.

"Now believe," Hope said. "Remember that they're both true. Don't worry about how they fit, how they interact. Just keep telling yourself that those are both true facts."

"They are, aren't they," I said, in wonder.

"Sits a little easier that way, doesn't it?"

"You know, I think they do."

They really did, contradictory as the two ideas seemed. The fact of my slavery no longer threatened to bury my identity, but it did keep my chip from stamping down on resistance whenever I imagined a way out.

"It won't always hold," Hope warned me. "There will be times when you slip, when one side takes over, but that's what the meditation is for. You don't need to be perfect in every moment. What matters is that you can come to grips with it later, and hold on to that balance when it counts."

For the first time in what felt like ages, I actually believed that it might be possible. That there was a chance to strike that balance and hold on to even that much of my self.

"I don't know what I would have done without you," I admitted.

"You don't have to," Hope said "That's what I'm here for."

"Thanks," I said, kissing her. "I appreciate it."

Once again our lips melt, and I drank in the sweet taste of her. My arms wrapped around her body, and I clung to her as salvation itself. Her fingers traced down my back until they met the still suffocating corset I had been forced to wear, and whose removal had been refused. Another thing that I could not bring myself to escape, only to live with, yet there was still hope for its removal later.

"We need to get you presentable again," she said with regret in her eyes.

"What? Don't like seeing me this way?"

We both chuckled.

"You know I do," she said, impishly circling her finger around my bare breast. "But you might have a bit of trouble. Besides, people will stare."

"They'll stare anyway," I said, frowning as I pulled on my cut-off shirt.

Just as I'd grown used to the garment's tightness, I was surprised how strange the vibrator's absence felt. To think, that I had once been afraid to use it. A quick trip to the washroom removed most of the mess and scent of our time together. It couldn't remove everything, of course, but at this point Victor must have grown accustomed to evidence of my near constant arousal. If anything, it would probably please him to imagine my embarrassment at dripping so much in front of my classmates.

Our parting was more reluctant than I'd expected back when I first called her. At some point, our relationship had blossomed into more than just a desperate transaction.

Hope had awoken something within me. Walking through the campus, I found that my perspective had changed. Seeing the women walk past, my eyes no longer stopped at noticing the cut and style of their clothing. I looked now to see how chests filled out those designer tops, how skirts followed the curved line of a hip. Bare legs were not merely an invitation to judge skin hygiene, but also a thing of interest.

I turned my eyes away, hoping they had not noticed my interest. Surely this was some new thing in me, wasn't it? What had happened to turn me in this way?

Silly. I knew full well what the answer was, and it could be said in a single word: Hope. She had awakened this in me, and although it was a newfound source of awkwardness, I blessed it. Here was something that Victor could never be a part of, that I could share with her untainted. Wherever this had stirred from, it was another outlet for my desires, and one that he could not touch.

He was alone when I returned home that evening, and he was not happy to see me.

"You're late," he scowled. Remorse blossomed in me immediately. His disapproval might as well have carried a physical weight, so hard did it strike me.

"I was at a-"

"Yes, a study meeting," he sneered. "For how many hours?"

"I-"

"Did you come straight back?" he demanded "Do not lie to me."

"Yes," I spoke flatly.

This was no lie. I don't think I could have lied to him if I'd wanted to, and right now I didn't even want to. This was no lie, I had returned home immediately. He had not asked me to account for those hours before I had left. That this answer served my own ends was unimportant, I was telling him the simplest, most direct truth in response to his question. I was being a good slave.

Prying eyes scrutinized my face, but whatever he saw there satisfied him. After all, everyone knew that slaves could not lie to their masters. They were obedient, just like I was.

"Fine," he said, "and since I am not allowed to interrupt your studies, then I will give you something to think of instead. Come here!"

I did as he instructed, standing practically naked before him, wearing nothing save the humiliating clothes he had bade me earlier. My knees felt week, and I had an urge to prostrate myself before him. The only reason I still stood was because he had not yet ordered me to my knees. Eyes downcast, I found my gaze drawn to his lap. How easy it had been to forget how uncontrollably attractive I found him. A drop spilled from my pussy and onto my clenched thighs, I felt it run down my leg.

"Bend over," he commanded, and I obeyed. Grabbing me by the hand, he soon had me sprawled across his lap.

"Lift up your skirt"

I did so, exposing my bare rear to his view. I trembled then, and not just in fear. Proximity alone was a tremendous aphrodisiac, and it was running through me in full tilt. Hope had predicted this, that there would be times when balance fled from me. In that moment, when fear and lust and anticipation swirled together in an intoxicating mixture, there could be no sense of balance. I was his to use, his to discipline, and although I dreaded it, I yearned to feel his hands on me.

SMACK

A sound escaped my lips, half cry and half moan.

"Do you know why you are being punished?"

"Because I was late?"

SMACK

"Because you were not there when I wanted you."

SMACK

"Understand, pet," he said, "You are not important. There will be many times when I do not want you. But when I do desire you, I expect you here."

SMACK

Tears ran free now, as did remorse. I had failed him, what use was I? Was I still a good slave? I vowed to be a better one in the future.

"Think on that, the next time you go out. I cannot stop you, but think hard on this. Do you really wish to disappoint me again?"

SMACK

"Never," I cried, "I'll be good. I won't disappoint you again."

SMACK

His hand descended upon me again, but maybe a little lighter this time. Or was I imagining it? Did it even matter? I had displeased him, it was no less than I deserved.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it," he said as another blow slapped against my rear. I cried out in dismay, but his hand stirred more than pain in me. Fuck me, I was so damned horny. His every touch just made me need him all the more. I wanted him, I needed him, I would do anything for him. All I wanted was to give him whatever he desired.

My ass was red and sore when he was finished with me, but that could not compete with the ache it left in my pussy. I gazed worshipfully at him, silently begging him to use me as he would.

"If you had been here earlier," he said, "I might have fucked you."

That alone hurt nearly as much as his blows had.

"But you weren't," he continued, "so that means you aren't getting off at all tonight. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Master," I replied. No need to tell him about me and Hope, or how many times I had cum there. Still, it would have nice to have a few more times, especially if I could have done it with Victor's cock inside of me.