SALVATION: KARA

Feature Writer: Autumn_Ash

Feature Title: Salvation: Kara

Published: 08.09.2021

Story Codes: Erotic Mind Control

Synopsis: Kara is looking for a new job, but finds a new life instead.

Author’s Notes: All characters depicted are 18+ and any resemblance to real or fictional people is accidental. This story contains themes of corruption, brainwashing, transformation, and BDSM. If you have any feedback I would love to hear it.

Salvation: Kara

Kara clutched her purse and stared down the dark alley. The only source of illumination was a dim flickering light along a door on the right, near the back. She looked down again at the piece of paper Tom had given her. This was definitely the address. It was nearly midnight, and already the streets were clearing out. She didn’t want to be here later than she had to. Maybe she should come back tomorrow? But what good would that do? The truth was she needed money, and according to Tom she could earn some here. She took a breath, steeled herself, and marched down the alley.

The door was locked. Tom hadn’t mentioned that. Kara shifted, looking up and down the alley. She was alone. She raised her hand to knock, but before she could, the door swung open, and a gruff man wearing a leather jacket stared at her. Muffled sounds of music and bass echoed from the hallway behind him.

“Yeah?”

Kara hastily lowered her hand.

“Um… Is this Salvation? The Club?”

“What’s it to you?”

“My friend Tom said I might find some work here. That’s, Thomas Pearson. He said he knows the owner?”

The man eyed her up and down, lingering for a moment on her chest. Kara resisted the urge to squirm.

“Huh. You’re not the usual type. What’s your name?”

“Kara Tulley.”

He nodded, stepped out of the way, and beckoned her inside. Kara took another calming breath and stepped past the man. As she crossed the threshold, warm air washed over her. She strode forward with false confidence before she could change her mind. Behind her the door slammed shut. The air grew warmer, and the music became louder with each step. For a moment she felt like Pinnochio, walking into the belly of the beast.

Two months earlier Kara had been hired as a junior attorney at Ackler Law. It was a prestigious partnership, one that would have made her career simply by having it on her resumé. Or so she thought. It turned out she wasn’t much suited for the work there. Despite graduating from law school near the top of her class, Kara had never been very assertive. In a courtroom, sure, she could argue her case with a ferocity to match anyone, but outside she was timid and self-conscious. Working at Ackler had been a nightmare.

Everyone was competitive to the extreme. Scheming and vying for praise from the partners. Undermining each other’s efforts. Putting in hours of overtime each day. Kara couldn’t keep up. Tom had been the one bright spot. He was hired at the same time as her, and they were both told from the beginning that only one of them would be promoted, and the other let go. It was meant to turn them against each other, but neither of them took the bait. Tom had been professional and courteous. He even made an effort to check in on her, and they had spent more than a few late nights helping one another finish some outstanding assignment.

The problem was that he was just plain better. He was a great attorney, quick witted and intelligent, and he even managed to socialize with senior staff without throwing anyone under the bus. She had known from the beginning it would be him. Kara wasn’t even sure why she stayed past that first week. She told herself it was for the experience. To be able to bring up the Ackler name in future interviews. But the reality was that she had stayed for Tom.

In addition to his other qualities, he was stunningly handsome. He kept in shape, and Kara caught herself staring at him on more than one occasion. When their eyes met he would always smile, and it melted through her. Looking back, her crush hadn’t done her productivity at work any favors. When their boss announced that Tom would be promoted, and Kara would be let go it had stung. She wondered how much of that was losing the job and how much was losing Tom.

Being let go from Ackler was career poison. No other law firm in the city would hire her. It was as if she was an outcast, marked by Ackler Law as a failure and no one wanted to disagree. More than once she had considered leaving the city to find work elsewhere, but that felt like running away. She may be timid, but she was stubborn too. Still, she needed money.

As luck would have it, Tom called her just as she resigned herself to finding a part time job and said he had a friend who could use some help. He warned her that it was a strange job. A club, secretive and with an eccentric owner, but it paid well. After a bit of searching online, she discovered that the club often featured erotic shows. It was a bit of a shock to learn Tom was involved with a place like that, but he assured her he just happened to know the owner from elsewhere. Kara knew clubs like this existed, they came up occasionally in cases she had studied, but she never thought she would step foot in one. Now she was here looking for work. The whole idea seemed insane now that she was here, but she trusted Tom, and he promised her that the job wasn’t anything she would object to. “Just go talk to the owner. If you’re not interested then no problem.”

The dark hallway continued for a while, then turned a corner into dancing pink lights. Kara stepped into Salvation.

Floor to ceiling windows, sloping outward at a slight angle and broken up by thin black pillars every meter or so looked out over a dance floor crowded with people. Smoke filled the spaces between bodies, painted pink by the light. The crowd moved in time with the pulsing bass like a single organism. The music was louder here, but was still muffled. The glass must be thick. Kara noticed a few people in the crowd looking up, watching her. She ignored them.

To the left was a closed wooden door that read Management. To the right the windows followed along one wall dance floor then turned a corner to follow another before terminating in a small room centered with the larger one below. Kara shrugged and made her way there.

From this angle she could see a stage set into the opposite wall, currently occupied by a DJ with an array of sound equipment. Across from the windows, the back wall of the small room was entirely mirrored, creating a dizzying illusion. A large polished mahogany bar sat in front, lined with four stools cushioned with red velvet. Behind the bar, a trim woman with straight black hair stood polishing a glass. She wore a tight pencil skirt, and a vest overtop a white dress shirt that was tight in the body but loose in the sleeve. A dark collar an inch wide wrapped her neck. She looked up at Kara and smiled as she stepped in.

“Miss Tulley, I assume?”

Kara nodded. “Just Kara is fine.”

“Welcome, Kara, to Salvation.”

Kara made her way to the bar and took a stool in the center. She took off her long coat and draped it over one of the others, setting her purse on top. There was no one else in the bar but her. The bartender pulled a martini glass from below the bar and set about mixing a drink Kara didn’t recognize.

“The mistress will be ready for you soon. In the meantime why don’t you try a Deal with the Devil, our specialty drink?” She set the glass down. “On the house of course.”

It was a deep red, with some carbonation, and garnished with an orange peel. Kara wasn’t a big drinker, but this whole situation had her on edge. A drink might help calm her down. She took a cautious sip. It was bitter, and had an odd aftertaste she couldn’t place. To be honest she didn’t like it much, but she decided against saying anything.

“There’s no need to look nervous.” The bartender gave her a warm smile.

“Sorry, this just normally isn’t my kind of place.”

“Everyone says that at first. But you’ll get used to it, and before you know it it’ll feel like home.”

“I dunno.. clubs have never really been my thing.”

Kara took another sip. It tasted a little better now that she knew what to expect. She glanced behind her at the dance floor and saw more upturned faces. Between the windows, the mirrors, and being alone up here she was starting to feel like she was on display. She said as much to the bartender.

“That’s the point.” She chuckled. “It’s exclusive up here. They’re jealous, try to enjoy it.”

“Is it usually this empty?”

“No. Days like today are rare.”

Kara chatted with the bartender for a while. Her name was Erica, and she’d come here with nothing six years ago and been taken in by Ornia, the bar’s owner, whom she referred to as mistress. Erica was friendly, and easy to talk to. The kind of person who made you want to open up. A warmth had spread through her, and Kara realized she was smiling. Her drink was almost empty. She didn’t remember drinking most of it. She tossed back the final sip. Suddenly she felt like something was missing.

“Want another?”

Kara hesitated. Not a smart idea to get drunk before an interview, but it was a very good drink. She opened her mouth, intending to decline, but found herself saying, “Sure.” Just one more, she told herself.

She eyed herself in the mirror while Erica prepared another cocktail. Her unruly brown hair was smoother than usual (she had put in a good effort today) and she wore a sleeveless turtleneck sweater and smooth black dress pants. Kara was in decent shape, if a bit heavier than she would have liked. She wasn’t ugly by any means, but her focus had always been on her career. She rarely wore makeup, tended to wear loose clothing, and carried herself without paying much mind to posture or presence. Even now she was hunched over the bar, leaning on her elbows. She sat up straighter.

She couldn’t help but compare herself to the young woman behind the bar. Erica’s hair was midnight black, cut in a stylish fringe, and perfectly smooth. Her tight clothing revealed a taut young body that seemed tailor made for sex appeal. Soft feminine legs, a tight waist, and a bosom that strained against her vest. Kara thought she could make out the faint outline of a thong against the fabric of Erica’s skirt in the mirror. She felt an uncharacteristic warmth in her groin that had nothing to do with the alcohol and squeezed her legs together.

“Like what you see?”

Kara realized Erica was watching her with a heavy lidded gaze and a knowing smile. Kara felt her face burning and was suddenly very thankful for the lighting.

“S-sorry.”

Erica laughed melodically. “Don’t sweat it, I’m used to it. Look all you like.” She winked and handed Kara her second drink. Another Deal with the Devil.

She nursed it in embarrassed silence. Kara was straight, but for some reason she had definitely been eying up the bartender. It must be something about the atmosphere here. Eventually, a small chime went off somewhere behind the bar. Erica stepped out and offered her a hand. Kara quickly downed the rest of the drink and took it. Her head buzzed pleasantly.

“Time for the big moment. Feel free to leave your purse and jacket here, I’ll hold onto them for you.”

Erica led her by the hand back down the windowed hall. Below, dozens of faces watched as she went. They stopped outside the closed door and Erica knocked twice. Kara glanced at the dark hallway that led outside. This was her last chance to leave. Erica opened the door and motioned for Kara to go first. Oh well, she’d already come this far. Kara stepped through the door, and into a dim room with two black leather couches on either side of a glass coffee table. On one sat a pale woman with green, shoulder length curls, dark heavy eyeliner and a pierced septum. She wore a semi-transparent black crop top with a lace bra beneath, heavy black boots, and tight jeans with tears in the thighs. On the other, wearing an expensive looking suit and cradling a glass of whiskey, was Tom. The door shut behind her, cutting off the music entirely, and she heard the lock turn.

“Take a seat.” The woman’s voice had a bored tone to it, but there was an authority to it. She patted next to her, and Kara surprised herself by moving to obey. She sat down next to the woman who must be Ornia, and noticed she smelled faintly like the drink from earlier. Her mouth began to water at the scent. She swallowed and forced her attention away, to Tom.

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I decided I’d come to offer my support.” He flashed his warm smile, and her stomach fluttered.

“Kara, right? Mr. Pearson here has told me a great deal about you. He wouldn’t shut up, in fact.” She reached over as she spoke and cupped Kara’s chin. Ornia pulled her head to the right, then back to the left, examining her. Tom had described the woman as eccentric, but Kara didn’t like being treated like a horse someone was considering buying.

“I appreciate the opportunity. But I’m a little unclear on the details. What exactly is the job? And how exactly do you two know each other?”

Ornia released her. Kara’s head was buzzing from the drinks. They must have been stronger than she thought.

“On occasion, Ackler Law discreetly provides me with their services. In exchange I use my own talents to repay them.”

Ornia still sounded bored, as though the explanation was automatic. She ran her hand along Kara’s bare arm. The touch sent shivers through her, and the room grew warmer. She tried to gently push the woman’s hand away but it wouldn’t budge. Ornia ignored the attempt. Kara glanced at Tom to see him sipping calmly at his whiskey. Something tickled the back of her mind, warning her that the situation had become dangerous, but the buzzing drowned it out.

“What talents are those?”

“I’m an artist.”

“And where do I fit in?”

“You’re my canvas.” Ornia’ attention shifted to Tom. Kara saw him tense up. Despite his relaxed demeanor, she made him nervous. “You’re sure this is the one you want?”

“Yes. I want her to know complete and utter defeat.” He smiled at Kara, but it was cold as ice. “Beating you out for the promotion was far too easy. This time, try to provide some challenge.”

Her heart hammer in her chest. What was he saying? Clearly this was some kind of betrayal but Kara was confused. She couldn’t get her thoughts in order. It was so hot in here.

“I thought we were friends.” Was all she managed to stammer out.

He responded with laughter. “Friends? They told us from the beginning. We were rivals. And you handed me victory on a silver platter. The partners gave me the job, and now they’re giving me you.” He wore a wicked grin.

Kara felt her eyes begin to water. Desperately she tried to stand up, but Ornia placed a hand on her shoulder and forced her back down as though she was a child. The woman’s voice was a low, dangerous growl when she spoke, but it wasn’t directed at her.

“The partners are giving you nothing. I am. Remember that. Now leave us and wait downstairs.”

Tom clenched his jaw. He clearly didn’t like being ordered around, but he didn’t argue. He glanced at her one more time, threw back the rest of his whiskey and stood. He straightened his suit and strolled out of the room through another door in the back leaving them alone.

“I don’t know why they always make speeches.” Her tone was playful again. She caressed Kara’s cheek and turned her head to face her. Her expression was inscrutable. “He wants to feel in charge. Like he’s going to break you. But don’t worry. He’s not. I am.”

Ornia smiled. It was warm and full of sympathy. It cut through the buzzing and Kara found herself smiling along despite the ominous words. Ornia leaned in. Kara’s lips parted of their own accord and Ornia’s tongue slipped in. She tasted like the fruity drink from before.

Kara’s mind was racing. Tom had betrayed her. Everything they’d been through together had been an act. She wanted to deny it but the remaining part of her mind that was still rational knew there was no other explanation. Now she was kissing another woman who promised to “break” her. What was happening? She still wasn’t sure what it meant to be “given” to him. Some kind of sex trafficing? With Ornia at the head? She needed to figure out how to escape.

Ornia forced her tongue further in, shattering her train of thought. Kara moaned aloud. Her whole mouth tingled, and the buzzing grew louder. The room was sweltering. Ornia broke the kiss, and they locked eyes. She needed to leave. Now. She stood, and nearly fell. Her legs were shaking. She stumbled to the door. Ornia made no move to stop her. If she banged on the door loudly enough maybe Erica would hear. She pounded her fists against the heavy door, until they throbbed painfully.

“Erica!” She yelled.

“It’s too late. There’s already more than enough venom in your system. Besides, Erica gave you the first dose.”

The drinks. Deal with the Devil… Kara turned. Ornia was sitting on the couch, as before, but she looked different. Her skin wasn’t merely pale, it was pure snow white. Her eyes were now entirely black, save her luminescent green irises. A long tail was draped over the couch behind her, swinging leisurely. Two thick horns swept backward from her temples and circled behind her head toward each other. They looked almost like a tiara. Kara’s knees nearly buckled. She leaned her back against the door for support.

“Wha- what are you?”

“I told you. I’m an artist. Some artists work with paints, others with clay. I work with flesh.”

She licked her lips. Her tongue was forked.

“Now come here child.”

As before Kara’s body moved on its own. Her sane mind revolted, but another part of her yearned to taste the monstrous woman again. Kara sat sideways on Ornia’s lap and turned to face her. She placed one hand against Ornia’s chest to steady herself.

“What did you do to me?” She whispered.

“My bodily fluids contain a venom. It’s an aphrodisiac, and makes my victims more pliant. Mentally and physically.”

Ornia’s hand found its way between her burning thighs. Kara automatically parted her legs and gasped as she felt a pressure on her groin. Ornia began massaging her as she continued.

“I’ll reshape you. You’ll be the perfect little pet for your friend Thomas.”

Kara stared into Ornia’s eyes. Shining emeralds in a sea of black. Breath drifted across her skin. The smell was intoxicating. Kara’s thoughts were a raging storm. Her sane mind was losing the battle. She was Trapped in a nightmare, but her terror was distant. Far away, like it was happening to someone else. Instead pleasure filled her. Each movement of Ornia’s hand brought another wave. Her whole body felt like it was on fire.

Kara grew weak and nearly toppled off. Ornia deftly caught her, and stood, lifting her up. Kara let out a whine, wishing for Ornia’s hand to return. Ornia gently laid her down on the couch, face up. She ran a finger down the center of Kara’s sweater, and a burning line followed with a hiss until it fell open, cut into two. The cool air felt amazing on her bare skin. Next Ornia removed her pants. No burning slice, she just gripped the waist and effortlessly tore it apart, then ripped the now loose garment off in a smooth motion.

Kara was struggling to keep her eyes open. Ornia leaned over her, running one finger up Kara’s side sending a shiver of excitement through her. Her face came in close, and Kara eagerly tried to raise her own head to meet it, but she was weak and fell back.

“There, there. Give yourself to me and be reborn.”

She stuck out her forked tongue. It was inhumanly long, and saliva coated it, running down and dripping from the end. Ornia cradled a hand under the back of her head and lifted her. The voice of sanity screamed in the back of Kara’s mind as she opened her mouth and took Ornia’s tongue inside. It danced with her own, and snaked its way down her throat. The last of her strength left her. All she could do to lay there, suckling like a baby as the heat in her body grew to a searing crescendo. She convulsed as ecstasy filled her. It raced through her body like lightning, and pain followed. She drank deeper.

Ornia’s essence was her world. The only thing she cared about. Each time she swallowed, a piece of Kara died. Memories and knowledge shattered, replaced by a yearning to serve her mistress. To make Ornia happy. Pain and pleasure wracked her in equal measure. Her body felt like it was melting. Twisting up and rearranging itself. Eventually she was overwhelmed. Unable to continue sucking at her mistress’ tongue. She could only scream. Wave after wave of please ripped her apart. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She blacked out.

The woman who had been Kara woke up in a different room. Her body was sore, as though she had worked every single muscle to failure the day before. The cool air against her skin suggested she was naked. Gingerly, she sat up and looked around. It was dark, but a sliver of light crept in from underneath a nearby door. She stood and nearly fell immediately. It was difficult to balance, as though her center of gravity was off. Carefully, she tiptoed toward the door with a hand held out front. Her fingers met with the door, made out of the same heavy wood as the one Erica had led her through. She reached the door, then felt around next to it for a light switch. There wasn’t one in the obvious place, but she swept her hand methodically along the wall until she finally reached it a half-foot above where she expected. She flipped it.

Yellow light filled the room and she squinted her eyes against it. She was in some kind of dressing room. It was small, with a dark wooden floor covered in scuffs, and a bed along one dark red wall that she had been lying on. Next to the door on the other wall was a rack of clothing. Skirts and dresses hung alongside various costumes and leather articles she recognized as BDSM gear. Kara would normally have shied away with embarrassment, or simply refused to acknowledge the clothing at all, pretending she hadn’t seen it. Instead, she was filled with a sense of curiosity. She took a step toward the rack, but movement caught her eye as she did and she forgot all about the clothing as she looked in the vanity mirror across from her.

A petite young woman stared back at her in awe. Her hair was golden brown, and came to her shoulders much the same way Kara’s had, but had a healthy shine to it without a single rebellious lock. Kara’s face was recognizable in the woman’s but hers was less round, with more prominent cheekbones, fuller lips, and a more delicate nose. It was the face of a younger, more beautiful girl that had never existed, but it was still recognizably Kara. The same couldn’t be said about the woman’s body, her body. And it was her’s. That truth was driven home as she felt her hands dance across its new curves and the woman in the mirror followed.

She was shorter than Kara had been. Difficult to place by how much, but at least a handful of inches and perhaps nearly a foot. Her breasts were about the same size as Kara’s, but looked far larger on her smaller frame, and sat proudly without any signs of age. Two perfect teardrops, tipped with small pink nipples. Gone was Kara’s extra weight, the determined folds that refused to go no matter how many diets or how much exercise she tried. Instead she had a soft flat belly. Her hips were wider than before, enough that there was a gap between her delicate thighs. She did a giddy twirl, noticing her cute butt as she did. Finally she examined her flower. It was perfectly hairless. She allowed a finger to trace along her cleft before slipping into the pink folds waiting beneath. She bit her lip and moaned at her reflection.

Kara was still there, deep down. But she was broken, torn apart, with large chunks missing. This new girl, admiring her reflection, had rushed in and filled the gaps. It was her body now, Kara was just a passenger. Kara felt the girl’s excitement, her pleasures as she cupped her new breasts, as she raced her hand down her belly and explored her womanhood. Trapped in the girl’s mind, Kara screamed in defiance, and thrashed about to regain control, but it was just noise to the girl. She easily ignored it. There was a knock at the door, and it swung open before she could respond.

Erica stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Erica eyed her up and down, then threw her arms around her. Erica had been shorter than Kara, but she was taller than the girl by a couple of inches now.

“You look amazing!”

The bartender had betrayed Kara. Given her up to her mistress. Instead of anger, though, she felt only gratitude. Her lips pull into a smile.

“Thanks. How long was I out?”

“Only an hour or so. The changes are fast. I’m sure you’re still feeling the after effects, but they’ll pass quickly. I’m here to get you ready. We need to present you to your master soon.”

She took a step back from Erica. “I thought we served mistress Ornia.”

“Of course we do.” She began flicking through the outfits on the rack. “I serve here at Salvation, and you’ll serve her by keeping Mr. Pearson happy.”

Memories of Tom came flashing back, but there were holes. They had been coworkers, friends. For some reason she felt angry. The idea of serving someone else didn’t sit well with her, but she wouldn’t defy her mistress.

“I understand.”

“Good girl. Now let’s get you dressed.”

Erica dressed her in a black lace thong, and helped her squeeze into a matching corset. As she tied it from behind the girl watched herself in the mirror and ignored the protestation of her aching muscles. The corset left a sliver of her midriff exposed above the panties, and squeezed her tightly, giving her an almost cartoonish hourglass figure. It also pressed her breasts up, making them look even bigger. They swelled outward threatening to escape. Erica helped her step into a pair of black three inch heels while she held the vanity for support. Finally Erica completed the ensemble with a collar that matched her own. A tag hung from the front that read Kitty.

“Your new name.”

She ran her fingers along it and felt a glow of pride, and deeper down, a whisper of loss.

“There we go. No point in adding more. He’s just going to take it off.” She smirked and then added, “I’d like to see him get that corset off though. I bet he doesn’t even try. Now, let’s go. We have one stop to make before the show.”

Erica offered her hand for the second time tonight, and Kitty took it eagerly. What show was she talking about? She supposed she would find out. Together they left the room and set off down the hallway beyond. There were other doors liking the hall, presumably other dressing rooms, and the pulsing bass returned as they walked. They were getting closer to the dance floor then. The beat was faster than before, more frantic. Eventually they came to a set of double doors, and as they opened the music washed over them in full force. Deep bass and grinding synths assaulted her ears. Kara recoiled, but Kitty absently nodded her head to the beat. They were behind the stage now. She could make out the curtains. There was a large open area where sound equipment, as well as a few pieces of BDSM gear she noticed, sat in storage. A handful of techs scurried around, ignoring them. And there, leaning against the far wall was her mistress.

An ivory being of pure beauty. Her heart skipped a beat and she stopped walking. Kara snarled in anger, but kitty quieted her with ease. Erica tugged on her arm.

“Come on, get moving. She wants a word and we’re running behind.”

Despite her firm words she wore a knowing smile. Clearly, Erica understood how she felt. They continued walking, and Kitty studied her mistress the entire way. The way her tail swung casually back and forth, the delicate curves of her horns. She looked uninterested, staring ahead, but her dark eyes swept across the room, taking in each detail. Kitty giggled. Erica shushed her.

“About time you woke up. Come here, let me see you.”

Kitty eagerly stepped forward and presented herself to her mistress. She looked to the right, waited a bit, then left. She did a twirl like she had in the dressing room, and looked up into her mistress’ eyes. They regarded her coolly with the same bored expression as when Kara had first met her.

Eventually, she simply said, “You’ll do.”

The words stung. Deep down, she registered that Kara was furious. Angry that someone who took her life from her could be so disinterested, but she squelched the feeling before it could distract her. Kitty just wanted to please her mistress. To impress her. It was a blow to her pride. She risked a question.

“W-what can I do to be better?”

Without warning, Erica gripped her hair from behind with more force than she thought the woman was capable of, yanked her backwards, and glared at her.

“Don’t speak to the mistress without permission.”

She was confused. Earlier Erica had greeted her like a sister. They both served Ornia didn’t they? Her eyes darted between Erica and her mistress. Unsure who to address. Erica saved her the trouble and threw her to the ground in front of Ornia.

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry, mistress! I didn’t know.”

She focused on the ground, afraid to look her mistress in the eye. Ornia’s tail swept under her chin and tilted her head upward. There was barely any emotion on her mistress’ face. Her vision began to blur as tears welled up.

“Now, now. Don’t cry.” Then to Erica, “Get her up.”

Erica hauled her to her feet by her arm.

“I told you. I’m an artist.” She stepped forward.

Kitty ached for her mistress’ touch, but Ornia reached past her and cradled Erica’s face instead, placing an alabaster hand softly against her cheek. She smiled. Erica stared lovingly back.

“Erica is one of my finest pieces. You’re beautiful, sure. But everything I make is beautiful. Erica was made for a purpose. Hand picked and crafted with precision. You?”

Ornia turned to face her and there was no smile. She sauntered closer as she spoke.

“You’re someone else’s vision. The wish of a shortsighted man with delusions of grandeur. Just a pet. Even your name was his idea. Just another way to demean you.”

Her mistress took her hand in her own, and wiped away her tears with the other.

“Don’t fret, though. You still serve a purpose. Please him. Make him happy, and compliant. Make him forget that I’m the one in control.” Now, she finally smiled. “Do this and you’ll make me happy.”

Her stomach was in knots. Kitty felt like a failure. But if there was still something she could do to make her mistress happy, she would. She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Ornia kissed her tenderly. She pressed her tongue eagerly against her mistress’ mouth, and moaned when she allowed it to slip inside. Her taste was pure ecstasy. All too soon, Ornia broke the kiss and waved for Erica to take her away. Kitty was pulled away from her mistress, her reason for existing. She craned her around to get one last glance, Ornia watched her go.

They passed through the curtains onto the stage. A second set of curtains were drawn, shielding them from view for the time being. Centered on the stage was a heavy wooden chair with a high back, like a throne. A chain was attached to one arm and coiled on the floor.

“Kneel here.” Erica tapped a spot with her shoe.

Kitty obeyed, and lowered herself onto her knees beside the chair facing the curtains. Erica hooked the chain to the loop of her collar and hung it over Kitty’s shoulder. It was heavy, and the metal was cold against her skin. Voices on the other side of the outer curtains grew louder as the chains rattled. They were eager for a show. Despite her heartache, the thought of the curtains parting excited her. She squeezed her thighs together.

“Give them a good show. Remember, mistress will be watching. Make her proud.”

Erica patted her on the head. The curtains parted.

The crowd had thinned, down to a few dozen. They began cheering as Kitty came into view. She couldn’t help but smile at all the attention. Kara was mortified. Kitty sat straighter and pushed her chest out proudly, enjoying the protests of the persistent voice in the back of her head. Erica stepped forward and addressed the crowd. Quiet settled over them as she spoke.

“Distinguished guests. Meet Kitty. Once, she was aimless. Wandering through life without purpose. Filled with dreams above her station.”

Kitty felt Kara’s anger.

“Then she found Salvation!” The crowd cheered again. Erica paused until they quieted. “Now she knows her place. She knows who she serves, and she can find true happiness in her purpose.”

Footsteps from behind surprised her, and Kitty turned to see a handsome man wearing a dark grey suit strutting across the stage toward the throne. A mask in the shape of a wolf covered the top half of his face, but she recognized him. This was her new master. The person she was made to please. Jumbled memories of Tom, remnants of Kara, flooded through her. Working late to finish reports. Coffee together one rainy morning. Sneaking glances of him as she walked past the company gym. His cruel grin as he betrayed her and left her to her fate. No, as he betrayed Kara, she corrected herself.

Kitty’s own feelings were complicated. Without him, she would never have been made, would never have met her mistress. But he would also take her away from here. Separate her from her reason for living. For that she could never forgive him. He casually fell into the throne. Leaning an elbow on one of the arms, and propping his head up to watch her. She looked up at him, and realized her mouth was hanging open stupidly. She snapped it shut. Make him happy and compliant. She grinned up at him and batted her eyelashes. He responded with a self-satisfied smirk. Erica continued.

“Enjoy her debut, as Mr. Wolfe here breaks in his new toy.”

As she spoke one of the techs from backstage wheeled out a tray. Three vials of clear liquid were laid out beside a glass syringe and a few other instruments she didn’t recognize. Kitty gulped. Tom’s smile grew and she withered under his cruel gaze, shifting nervously. Erica approached him.

“We hope you enjoy your gift Mr. Wolfe.” She said, using Tom’s stage name. She bowed, gave Kitty a final glance and retreated backstage leaving her alone with her master.

He patted his lap. Kitty stood, taking a moment for her legs to wake after kneeling on the concrete floor for so long. Suddenly, he grabbed the chain and yanked her closer. She stumbled on her heels and fell toward him. He caught her by the throat, cutting off her surprised yelp. Her knees buckled and crashed against the floor. She was bent over his lap, propping herself up with hands against his legs and giving the crowd a perfect view of her rear. Even gasping for air, the thought of her own perky ass, exposed save for a sliver of lacy black fabric sent a ripple of excitement through her. She bit her lower lip and looked into the eyes of the wolf mask. She saw the twinkle of Tom’s own pleasure there. This is what her mistress wanted. She was made for this.

He forced her head downward and loosened his grip. She gulped down air. At the same time she slid her hands down along his firm thighs and began unbuckling his belt. As she worked she could see the large bulge in the fabric. She finished her work and drew the zipper down. She reached in and found her prize, wrapping a delicate hand around the warm, solid mass of his shaft and drawing it out. It sprung free, nearly hitting her in the face. It was enormous. Nearly the length of her forearm. Perfectly rigid, with a clear drop of fluid building at the bulbous tip. She realized her mouth had begun watering, and her face felt hot. She wrapped a hand around its base, her fIngers couldn’t make it all the way around, lifted it slightly, leaned in and licked the tip of her tongue along the underside. When she reached the tip she pulled her tongue back in and savored the taste of her master.

This is what you’ve dreamed of, right Kara? She thought. In response the voice screamed and thrashed uselessly for control again. Tom rested a hand on her head. Kitty wrapped her lips around his head, savoring the tangy flavor, and began bobbing her head up and down. The pressure increased and she went further, instinctively relaxing her throat and taking him deeper and deeper until she felt her nose touching him. Kara had only performed oral sex a few times in her life, and had always gagged at more than a couple inches. Kitty reveled in her superiority and inwardly mocked the woman she had been. She stayed there for a moment. He filled her mouth, forcing her jaw open as wide as was possible. She pressed her tongue as firmly as she could against the bottom of his shaft and pulled back up. She felt him throb in her mouth and heard him moan. His hand curled into a fist, gripping her hair. She picked up speed, bobbing up and down. Running her tongue from base to tip each time. Kitty rolled her eyes upward to meet his. He liked that. She felt him flex his hips and push into her.

Then his other hand joined the first and he forced her head down with a powerful shove. She never let her eyes waiver and continued staring up at him as her air ran out and she began gurgling against his member. Remembering the crowd, she arched her back to expose herself as much as possible. Eventually he relented and she quickly pulled away to catch her breath.

He stood, towering over her. Kitty hadn’t realized how much taller than her he was now. He reached to the cart, and uncorked one of the clear vials.

“Open your mouth, slut.”

Kitty was nervous about what was about to happen, but did as she was told, sticking out her tongue for good measure. Tom carefully tilted the vial pouring the liquid into her waiting mouth. It was thick, and flowed down in a thin, continuous stream. When it touched her tongue she recognized it instantly. Ornia’s fluids, but the taste was stronger than her saliva. Kitty blushed. She closed her eyes and inched forward as though she could get more if she was closer. The stream ended too quickly. She shut her mouth and ran her tongue along the inside savoring the aftertaste. The room grew hotter, and her sex began to throb. Her vision blurred slightly as her eyes dilated and she swooned.

Tom tossed the empty vial back to the cart where it clinked against another. He reached down, taking hold of the chain and pulled her to her feet by the collar. He placed a hand on either side of her head and forced her to look straight at him. Wanting for something to do, her hands found his rod below and absently ran along its length.

“You belong to me Kitty. I’m your owner, your master, and all you want is to serve me.”

She nodded as he spoke. The words rang of truth. Of course she belonged to her mistress, but she also belonged to him. She understood now.

“You were pathetic before. Weak willed, boring, plain. Now you’re finally worth something. Because of me.”

Because of my mistress she thought, but aloud she said, “Thank you master.”

“Good girl.” He patted her cheek twice. Firmly. Almost a slap. “Now tell me. Is Kara still in there.”

“Yes.” Kitty responded truthfully. “Some of her.” She waited for her master’s anger.

His response surprised her. “Good. And what does she think of all this?”

Kitty smiled wickedly up at him, catching on to the game. “She’s sad, and angry. She hates this.” The broken Kara howled as if to emphasize the point, but she continued. “But not me, I couldn’t be happier.”

He pulled her into a fierce kiss, crushing his lips against hers. With the heels she could just meet his mouth when she tilted her head back. His tongue pressed forward and she eagerly parted her lips to accept it. Playfully dancing her own against it. One hand worked his manhood, and she rested the other firmly against his chest. Even through the suit she could feel the solid mass of his muscles. He slid a hand down her back, following the curve over the corset, across the sliver of exposed flesh, and over her lacy thong, before gripping one of her cheeks and pulling her tight against him. Kara screamed. Kitty moaned into her master’s mouth.