Caught in a Trap

Thanks for waiting so long for this installment! Yeah, I could spend a lot more time on character development, they're pretty flat. I tend to write erotica infrequently, when I get the itch – so I focus on the kink aspects. The dom/abuser being sympathetic or humanized makes it less hot to me, and in general I find too much of a fighting-back period to be uninteresting (reading or writing). I also have no turn-the-tables kink, so if you prefer stories where the abused heroine gives the villain his comeuppance, I want to let you know that you might be better off with another one. Bondage, forced exhibition, humiliation, non-consent – these are what call to me. Any perceived plot is just an excuse for more scenes with them. Your critiques are all justified, but I have to confess that I'm basically just sharing stuff I find hot in hopes that someone else will get off to it.

*****

If it weren't for the spell, I wouldn't be able to force myself down the stairs. But I do, and the rough men waiting down there stare at me as I walk nervously into the kitchen.

"I'm here to take some dinner to my masters," I whisper to the cook. He can't hear me at first, partially because he's transfixed by the sight of my mostly-naked body, but when I repeat the request he remembers that there are wizards here and pays attention.

"Not ready yet," he grunts, and propels me to the door. "Go wait out there." Taking me through the doorway, he slaps me on the arse, causing me to fall over the lap of a man at a table, who laughs and gives me a few more slaps as I struggle up. In trying to get away from him, I fall onto someone else's lap, sitting, this time, and the new man clasps his arms around me.

"It's not very often that a tasty morsel like you comes in here," he says, and pulls me in tightly as I try to get away.

"Let go of me!" I whisper, which urges him on more – since obviously if I didn't want his attention, I'd be a bit louder. He bends down to my chest and fits one breast in his mouth, chewing on it softly as I struggle. The vine over my cunt shifts as I squirm, causing me to squirm even more. Judging by the catcalls, it's interpreted as pleasure. Pushing a finger into me and discovering that I'm, of course, still wet, he holds up the slick evidence into the light.

"Look at that! I didn't realize what a fast worker I was."

He twists me around so I'm facing the rest of the room, and everywhere I look is an eager face staring at me. Grasping both my wrists with one hand, the other roams over my breasts, twisting and pinching as he likes. They're all delighting in my murmured protests, speculating at why I bother to hide my obvious whorish pleasure. I am passed from man to man, fondled and caressed by each in turn. I even stop protesting in whispers, because what's the point? I wouldn't be heard over the carousing. But at the same time, I can't stop hating myself for it.

A man pulls me over his lap, facing up, and he and the one to his left each pay attention to a breast, one pinching and pulling the nipple and the other squeezing the whole thing in one hand. The man to his right pulls on the vine, somehow tightening it and forcing it deeper into my cunt. At this point, the cook comes out with a heavy tray. He sets it on a table, then reaches for me with one big hand and drags me away from the men by the vine.

"Take this up to your masters, slut," he growls, and stumps back to the kitchen. I pick up the tray and try to work my way back to the stairs, but every way I turn there's an outstretched hand to poke and rub at me, and of course the tray keeps my hands so full I can't even try to do anything about them. I collect so many more slaps to the backside that I'm sure I must be bright red.

Back in Geoffrey's room, the men look up as I come in.

"You took your time," Geoffrey observes. "We'll have to punish you for that later. Just think of that, Michal," he continues as I put the tray on the table in front of them. "Us punishing Marradice."

"I've always wanted to punish Marradice," Michal says. "She's always needed it, and now she's getting it."

"The food wasn't ready when I went down there," I murmur, fairly certain that they can hear me, but they don't respond.

"Kneel on the floor over there," Michal orders, pointing to the corner. "Face the wall, knees apart, and hook your thumbs into the back of your ... bottoms." I mean to only fulfill the letter of his orders, and kneel with my knees a few inches apart, but the magic doesn't work that way. It forces me to spread uncomfortably wide, even though they're paying attention to the food and not to me. Hooking my thumbs into the already much-tightened vine pulls it even more, and despite myself I start rocking back and forth slightly, pulling and pushing it across my cunt. Pressure builds up inside me, of a more pleasurable sort than at any time today. I'm just about to come when I must make some noise, because Geoffrey shouts at me not to move any more.

"Get up and come over here," he tells me, and I stiffly get to my feet, thumbs still hooked behind me. "You are the worst slut I've ever seen," he says, looking very severe. "All you've done today is try to get fucked. First by a plant – even at the risk of your life – then offering yourself to those men at your inn, then inviting the two of us to take you, and then I expect you were wasting time sucking off everyone downstairs. Your real punishment will be later, but from now on, you are not going to come unless Michal or I tell you to."

"But keep on with what you were doing," Michal put in, and I'm forced to obey. Relentlessly, I saw the vine back and forth, building up the pressure even more. My thighs are so wet that the vine is slipping like it's made of silk, and I even start to cry in my frustration. I can't take much more of this. I'm going to explode, going to die, going to go crazy ...

Finished with his roast beef, Michal pushes his plate away and sits on the table, facing me. He puts his hands up to cup my breasts, and I sigh. It's like everyone in the world is obsessed with them, and they're aching from all of their earlier mistreatment. But instead of pinching or squeezing them, he simply holds them and starts to mutter. Oh, no. What spell is he doing?

It becomes obvious what spell he's doing very quickly. With a sensation like pins and needles all over them, they're swelling and swelling to twice their size – and they weren't small before. "There," he says proudly, and crosses his arms. When he lets go of my breasts, their new weight makes me stumble forward for a second. "I think this suits her much better, don't you?" he asks Geoffrey.

"Definitely," is the response. "Now she looks even more like the slut she is. That should give the people who have to deal with her a bit more fun. Now, go take these plates back to the kitchen."

I manage to get through the growing crowd downstairs to give the plates to the cook, but when I come back out they're waiting and ready. Several of them pounce on me, and one takes each arm.

"I didn't even think a woman could get this wet," a man says, staring at the vine between my legs in awe. "You could probably fit your fist up her cunt. Look at that!" The men on my arms pick up my legs, bending them at the knee so everyone can get a good look. They carry me around the room, allowing everyone to touch and fondle me as they like, pushing their fingers past the vine and making squelching noises in my cunt, or jiggling my breasts while laughing at their new size. Respect for my masters keeps them from forcing themselves on me, though, and after everyone has had their chance to inspect me, they send me back upstairs.

I spend an uncomfortable night on the floor at the foot of the bed, having been deemed too disgusting to be allowed on it. In the morning, Michal and Geoffrey are very quick to get me out of there – even though nobody's likely to interfere, there's always a possibility. Not that they care, but if they have to kill or incapacitate someone it could be messy.

Still only able to whisper, I don't even protest as they prepare to go. The thread collar still forces me to follow Geoffrey's orders, and I have to make several trips up and down the stairs with their bags as they wait in the main room of the inn. Fortunately, there is not the crowd there was the night before, but even if there had been ... I'm numb. Not physically – the vine between my legs still keeps me squirming slightly, and every breeze teases the sensitive skin of my enlarged breasts – but I've been so constantly manhandled and degraded over the past day that I can't quite feel humiliated anymore. I am an object, their property.

Once I have everything together, I realize that Michal has been preparing a teleportation spell. He holds his staff out, standing in front of the pile of luggage. The innkeeper starts to saunter over for the money he's owed, but Geoffrey and Michal exchange wicked grins and the whole place is gone in a flash. I should fear for my future, I should feel sorry that the innkeeper's been tricked out of his fee, but as I said, I'm numb. That my life has been completely upturned and I've been taken to some mysterious location where nobody will ever find me is so beyond what I would have ever expected that I can't process it, and once all of our cells are reassembled at the place Michal's taken us, I pass out.

–-

Some time later, I slowly blink my eyes open. Now I'm lying on a bed: soft covers and a firm mattress. Four-poster, with pulled-back curtains and a plain canopy. Turning my head a little, I can see the ordinary furniture of a bedroom and a sunny window. All very normal.

As I start to sit up, I realize that I'm wearing clothing – a plain black dress – and there are no vines to be seen. Was it all just a mad dream? I don't recognize the bedroom, but perhaps I was ill and was taken to some hospital or private home. But then, once I'm fully up, my massive breasts cannot be avoided. Part of the amplification spell seems to be keeping them uplifted, but they're still heavier than I'm used to. It happened, all of it, and I am still likely trapped. My hand snakes up to feel at my neck, and the collar is still there.

"Awake now!" Geoffrey sings from the doorway, and he comes in and sits next to me. I cringe away, but he pats my leg.

"I noticed how used to your outfit you were getting," he announces conversationally, "so I thought you should have some other things to wear. Not to worry, we'll have any number of costumes for you to put on when there's company, but for now ... although I should make some alterations." With a wave of his hand, the neckline creeps down as the bodice shrinks, pressing my breasts up and out and making them scarcely covered. At the same time, the skirt gets shorter and tighter, creeping up my legs. It's clever of him: it's more humiliating to be partially dressed and continually tormented with nudity than to just be naked all of the time. "That's better. Now, follow me." He walks out without looking, because he knows I'll be forced to go with him, and I am.

Somehow – probably through underhanded means – Geoffrey has gotten himself a full-on wizard's tower. His bedroom seems to be very close to the top, and we pass several well-stocked workrooms and storerooms on the way down. We stop before we reach the bottom, and Geoffrey leads me into a sort of sitting room, rather dusty and dim. "Where my clients wait. Will wait, " he amends. "I haven't really started practicing yet. But this is obviously not how it should look, so you're going to clean it up." He waves vaguely at a pile of rags and a bucket of water. "Dust, scrub, and so on. When you're done, come up and find me." With that, I expect him to go away, but he stands in the doorway and watches me for a while.

I take a few steps forward, picking up a rag, and start to dust off some of the chairs. Of course, when I dust the seats, I have to bend over – which was exactly what Geoffrey was waiting for. He says the words of a mild freezing spell, and I'm stuck in the position. He saunters up behind me, feeling the large portion of my arse that protrudes from under the short skirt and then the extremely plump swell of my breast, before his other hand slips down the front of my dress to pinch at my nipple. I try to squirm away, but I'm still not able to move. "Please," I whisper. "Just let me ..."

Geoffrey sighs. "Oh, fine. You can speak naturally. For now."

"Why are you doing this?" It's hard to talk to him while he's handling me – even though I know him fairly well, this treatment is so callous, a master dealing with his slave. "Please, I'll pay you some kind of ransom, or get my family to."

"Do you really think I want a ransom?" He laughs. "This area's been underserved for decades – once you clean it up and I hang out a sign, I'll be raking it in." He straightens up and slaps my arse once more just for good measure. "If you ever manage to clean it up. I know you're just trying to entice me to fuck you so you don't have to work – get going." Finally he walks away and I can move again.