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Gemma by Callie Messenger I trotted quickly up the stairs to Daly's flat. She'd called me at work about heading out for dinner. I had clothes there so I would shower and change before we left. Possibly we might have time for something else too. I knocked on the door, and was a little surprised to watch it swing open. I walked in and called her name. She answered from the bedroom. I dropped my case and walked through. As I entered the bedroom, Daly was laid on the bed, but a figure seated in the chair near the ensuite caught my eye. As I turned to look, the door behind me was closed. Two men came from behind it, and the figure in the chair rose. "What's going on?" I asked, the anger rising and the adrenaline starting to flow. The figure rising from the chair held a gun. Too late I saw that Daly was tied up on the bed. "Martin, we meet again. It's been so long." "Do I know you?" I asked the slim man. He had a heavily scarred face. "Not any more, I should hope, but you used to." I have to say that the bearing more than the face reminded me of someone. "We were at college together. We met one night in a bar. I had a disagreement with your friend. He gave me this scar." He said, pointing to an almost fresh looking weal on his neck. I remembered Chas hitting a guy who fell against a table of glasses. "You and your friend put me away for a while." "You pulled a knife on him. He spent three weeks in hospital!" "I understand they couldn't save him last time I got near him?" Chas had died in a car accident three years before. Until now I had thought it was just an accident. "You killed him?" I was on the verge of lashing out, but I couldn't risk Daly. "Yes. I always get my man. Like a Mountie, huh?" His smile was full of false teeth. "So now you're going to kill me?" Would quick be nice? I felt the blood draining from my body. I was going cold. "No. He hurt me. You just squealed. Perhaps I should thank you, because going to prison made me what I am. Of course, I've been a few times now. Each time better than the last. I built my network there, and now, well, let's just say I have the time and ability to enjoy satisfying my little grudges. You're not going to die. In fact, you're going to become a part of my success. A small part, but a very desirable one." "Okay, take me, but let Daly go." "Very noble, but think of it as your fault she had to become a part of this. Clint?" He called behind me. Suddenly there was an arm around my neck and a pad over my mouth. I took in the sharp, cold smell of chloroform, and was out in moments. My cell was a standard six by four. One light and one bucket were the only decoration. The light was always on. My bed was a mattress on the floor. Meals were dropped in. Small ones accompanied by some kind of shake. There was music playing somewhere, quietly. It was beginning to get on my nerves. I tried to think about Daly, but then tried not to because I didn't want to imagine what they could be doing to her. I slept, ate, sat, and did nothing. Time passed, and I grew weak. I began to talk to myself to ease the loneliness. I told myself stories about what I would do when I got out, and what I would do to the guy who had kidnapped me. One day, I woke up and there was a TV in the room. Sealed, battery powered, with no buttons. It was on. I began to watch it, but all it was showing was a room, very similar to mine, but with a bed in the middle. Suddenly I perked up. Daly was in the room. She looked tired, dishevelled, but not too bad otherwise. She was alive! Then a man entered the room. I didn't recognise him. He said something to Daly and she tried to cower away into a corner. He was going to hurt her! No, he spoke again, and Daly replied. There was a conversation, and then Daly walked over to him, knelt down before him, and put her hands to his crotch. She undid his trousers, and took his cock into her mouth. She was giving him a blowjob. I tried to look away. I tried to think of something else, anything else, but it was too fascinating. The only human stimulation I had had in a long time was to see my girlfriend blowing another man. He came all over her face and chest. She was escorted from the room. The TV went blank. It turned on often over the next few days. I thought they were days but I was just counting my sleep periods as nights. Every time Daly would give someone, often the same someone, a blowjob. Every time another small part of me died. Then the cell door opened. There was no one there. I walked out, confused. There was a small corridor, and then another door, which I opened. There was another small room, with another door, and a bed in the middle. A large man entered through the other door. He spoke to me. "Your girlfriend was forced to perform for us." He stated. I didn't doubt it. "The boss is satisfied. She may go. But first, look up there." I looked in the corner he was pointing at, and saw Daly strapped into a chair. "Watch!" Suddenly she screamed and her face contorted in agony. I cowered away from the screen. "You suck me off, and she doesn't get hurt before she leaves," was his simple last statement. I wanted to touch him, to talk to him, to scream at him. Daly was forced by him to do ugly things. I looked up again at her terrified face, and decided that I could only do the same. I could do nothing else if she had the chance to get free. I believed that I would be here until I died. I took his cock from his trousers and it sprang to erection. I put my mouth around it and sucked it, and played with it with my hand. I listened to instructions, and soon it was all over. Great spurts of jism went all over my face and shirt. I felt sick. Another man came in and escorted me back to my cell. The scene was repeated. I never knew when. Every time Daly was still in that chair, and I began to just get on with it to get it over. I learned, and became damn good at it. I still felt ill, humiliated and used. I never knew when my food got less, as I never knew when it arrived anyway, but I was soon getting very hungry. "Protein and carbohydrates." The men would say as they entered the room. I was so hungry I wanted to try it, and soon I did. I ate down all a man's cum. It did help, and though I tried to keep a little shake to wash my mouth out with, soon I was looking forward to going to the room to get some sustenance. The TV started showing again. Now Daly was being forced to strip before she blew the men. I didn't wonder what they used to force her. I was enjoying the show now, like it was a video. It wasn't really Daly anymore, but some robot who had to do a job. I watched her strip tens of times. I played with myself. I did, and once I ate my own sperm because I was so hungry. Then I visited the room again. I got down on my knees in front of the guy. "No. First you strip." I began to undo my shirt. "Sexily. Stand up." I had no idea what sexily meant. I looked up at the screen and paused. Suddenly Daly's face contorted in terror and her mouth widened in a soundless scream. That was my Daly, and I couldn't let her be hurt. I remembered the way she stripped, and slowly began to undo my buttons, keeping my eyes on the man, and gently heading towards him. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or wanted to laugh. His face was impassive. Finally though, he released his cock from his trousers and I fell hungrily before it. I was escorted back to my cell and my clothes thrown in behind me. Only they weren't my clothes, they were women's clothes. "They'll help you be sexy next time." Called the guard. I grew cold looking at them, and slowly put them on. In moments I was back out. I peeled off the blouse, slid the skirt down to my ankles and rolled down the stockings. I slipped off my knickers and knelt before the man. But he didn't give me his cock to suck. Instead he turned my face to the screen. I watched in horror as Daly screamed until she passed out, and then continued twitching spasmodically. "Is she dead?" Were the first words I'd summoned in more time than I could remember. "Not this time." Replied the man. "But you won't forget to put on your bra next time, will you?" With that he dragged me back to my cell and threw in my clothes. I dressed up right, and next time I stripped right. The scene again was repeated over and over, and I followed suggestions for stripping, walking and looking. Even for dressing, as the clothes were changed occasionally. I was still hungry, but I wasn't feeling so sick every time I ate. The TV came on. Daly now would finish her strip and then she began to play with her tits. She would run her hands all over her body, lift her hair, show herself off, and play with her tits until the guys cock was straining and he would ask her to blow him. She did it over and over, until her beautiful little mounds were imprinted on my mind. When the door opened again I knew what I had to do, but had little to do it with. That was the oddity though. Perhaps it didn't register immediately, but I did have a little to do it with. I could squeeze enough together on my chest to make the on looking man think he was looking at a tit. It didn't worry me. What had worried me was thinking that I wouldn't be able to carry it off. I was relieved when I could. Daly didn't get hurt this time. Hundreds of times we played the scene over and over, and perhaps it got easier. I certainly got better at it. Once again the men nudged me in the right directions to turn them on. I began to get a perverse satisfaction out of teasing them into letting me blow them. I told myself sometimes it was better to get it over with quickly, but that was when I thought about it, which was rarely. I simply looked forward to going to that room. It was the only company I got. Daly was back in the room. The play hadn't changed, but Daly had. Even before she stripped I could see the difference. As she slowly removed her bra to reveal her tits they floated in front of her like balloons. I could see pure lust on the guys' faces. She could lick her own tits, and suck on her nipples, and when she squeezed them together between her hands the guys would almost cream themselves. She could make them cum in moments. As I watched her over and over, I realised that the guys were almost coming even as she entered the room, staring at the sexy way she carried her curvaceous frame. Then it was my turn. I tried the walk, and I put on the wiggle, but the look of disappointment killed me. I didn't get the chance to go down on the guy, he just sent me straight back to my cell. I didn't eat; not even a shake arrived. The TV just came on again and I watched the guys enjoying themselves with the all new Daly. Starved, I almost crawled out the next day, ecstatic to be given another shot. I stripped perfectly, even proud of the mounds on my chest that really did spring forward when I took off my bra. But the guy just turned away when he saw what was there. "What do I have to do?" I whispered, hoarsely. He turned and smiled. "Would you like to make me happy?" "Yes." I replied. "I'd love you to have a big pair of tits. If you suck me off, I'll give you them." I stared hungrily at his crotch. He'd be happy if I did that, and happier if I got tits. I'd get fed, and I could please him and the others. I knelt down and blew him sweetly. I didn't wake up that night. At least, I think there was a period where I woke up somewhere else, and then I woke up back here, later. I felt the stretch in my chest of both muscles and skin. I raised my head from the mattress and looked down over my body. Two semicircular mounds were blocking my view except for a central curved 'V'. So I had tits. Big ones. It wasn't something bad. If anything, it was something good, in more ways than one. First, the feelings of fascination. Little changed in my day, but now I had something to toy with, think about, and investigate. I even felt sexy having my own tits. I wanted to play with a pair of tits, and now I could, anytime. Then, there was the realisation that the guys were under my control again. I could eat anytime they let me out there. First, Daly was there on the TV to remind me how it was done. Then it was my turn, over and over. Shoes were added to our wardrobe. Well, they might have been added to Daly's wardrobe, but they were locked onto my feet. Daly used them to great effect walking around the room. I had to practise hard, but soon the co-ordination returned to my legs. Walking in heels was new, too, and another way to pass the time. I might have paced my cell for hours, trying to get just the right effect. Everything helped to turn the guys on. And I was beginning to realise that the more I turned them on, the more they wanted me there. They kept me going there until they wanted to try something new. Then Daly would return until they were bored with her. I began to compete with Daly to hold their attention. I needed food, company, and there was something else there, something much stronger. I really wanted to be with them and please them. It was all I had to live for and their pleasure was vital to me. Then something completely new arrived. Daly stripped and went through all the motions, but instead of getting a blow job, this guy turned her around and leaned her forward over the bed. I could see quite plainly where he was placing his cock, and the pain on Daly's face confirmed it. He was fucking her arsehole. When she seemed to scream though, and jerk away, he let her, and sent her out of the room. She was soon back, and this time though she meekly presented her ass, she held her scream until the guy was further in. Away she went again. I was surprised to find my door opened. I minced down the corridor and opened the second door, smiling at the man waiting. I slowly stripped, almost offered my tits to his mouth and watched as his eyes and cock lit up. Without waiting to be asked I sauntered over to the end of the bed and leaned on it, pushing my ass back into the guy's crotch. He put something on his dick, and then pressed it against my sphincter. I took in a breath, and then held it tightly as he squeezed his way slowly in. I gasped when he stopped. He was tearing my arsehole apart, and it burned, but I couldn't scream. Instead, I breathed in moans, letting the sound carefully out. He gently pushed his way further in, but the worst of the damage was done when his glans passed my ring. He moved slowly and gently, and it fucking hurt like hell, but he didn't throw me out. Then, after only a few strokes, he very slowly and carefully pulled out. That was when my moan became one of pleasure. My arse stung like all the hells, but that withdrawal felt like the best shit I'd ever taken. He cleaned off his dick with a towel, and then let me suck it. It took many times for the pain to fade, but it did, and it was replaced with the pleasure of feeling a cock inside me, which stroked gently against parts that had never been pleasured before. The feeling of the best crap ever taken was repeated over and over, in one session, until my own cock would grow hard. Sometimes I was sure I was feeling the growth of an orgasm, and juices would dribble from my tip. Finally it came to an end, and I was left to watch Daly learn to catch up. I couldn't shit straight anymore, and the men provided tampons and pads in case I got too messy after a session. The men were happy with Daly for a long time. I grew lonely and hungry. I watched the way she kept them excited, drawing them in with her hair, her face, and her body. She knew what they wanted. I knew what they wanted. Surely I knew better. I just so desperately wanted to show them. I wanted to get out there and make them happy, to be with them for a while. When I found the door open I almost cried. I ran to the room and closed the door behind me. The man was sitting on a wooden chair. I slowly began to strip for him as he told me what to do. "First you dance for me." I swayed as I slowly slipped off my clothes. "Then you dance on me." I guessed he meant on his lap. I'd seen men with lap-dancers, and I guessed that's what he meant. I gyrated my naked body around in front of his face, before settling onto his lap, my arms around his neck. I ground my backside into his crotch and felt his firm member beneath me. I began to salivate as I thought of it. "Then you fuck me." I stood up, and released his hard cock from his pants. I couldn't figure an easy way to get on it, until he suggested I turn around. I slowly eased myself down on him, surprised at the intensity of the pleasure I felt as his cock slipped in. I hadn't had anything solid in my rectum for as long as I could remember, since the last cock, and it felt good. I began to slide my arse up and down on his cock, sitting down as low as I could onto it. "Sit down low, baby," he told me, "and let me get my hands on your tits." I cooed as his fingers stroked my nipples, like they always wanted, and gasped as he squeezed them. "Reach up, play with your hair. Hold it up." I held a great bunch of it over my head, and leaned back into him. "Just move up and down a little, gently, and keep showing me you enjoy it." I sighed, and moaned, and groaned, and gasped. His hands explored my body, and then, as my legs were beginning to tire, he lifted me off his lap. "Turn around, baby," he said, reaching for a towel. "Kneel down and enjoy." I sucked him with a carnal hunger. He lasted a moment. Again and again I enjoyed their company. I was taught how to dance so well that they couldn't wait to fuck me, and I loved that. Finally though, it had to end, and Daly stole them from me. I just couldn't think of ways to hold their attention. Daly did though. I don't know when she figured that they were getting used to her, but suddenly a strange sight woke me from my reverie in front of the TV. The man under Daly was cumming. He was having an orgasm inside her. They'd never done that. How did she do that? How did she make them do that? She was screaming and yelling and his face was glazed over. She stood up from him, and went down to lick all his cum off his cock. Then she put her hand between her legs and licked off all her fingers when she brought it back to her mouth. The guy was smiling. She went back down on his cock and sucked until it was firm again, then she sat on his lap facing him, and fucked him again. This time though, he lifted her off after a few moments. She was escorted out, but returned before my eyes had left the screen. She played through the same scene with another man. And again she made him cum. She was staying there. I wasn't going to get back to the men. I was going to be alone, and hungry, and thirsty. I didn't feel the tears until I could taste them on my lips. Daly was keeping them to herself, and all I could do was watch. I eventually realised the door was open. How long had I been staring at it? I was dressed. I was quite clean, I think, though I don't remember washing, or the water coming or going. I don't remember eating the last shake. Half of it was still there. I remember Daly's face. Joy it was, sheer joy. 'How?', I wondered. I stood at the next door. There would be a man there. I wanted him to love me, to keep me. I wanted to know how. The door was open. He was sitting there, waiting. He was smiling at me. It was so beautiful. That's all there was, that smile, and the question. "How?" I whispered. He looked at me like he couldn't hear. I coughed, and croaked "How?" "How?" He questioned. "How do I stay here. Tell me how to please you like she does. Teach me?" I pleaded at the last. "I can't teach you that." He said gently. "It's something she has." "Can you give it to me?" He didn't laugh, but his eyes were mirthful. Then he was serious. "Would you give that up?" He pointed to my crotch. What did he mean? I looked down into my knickers under my skirt, and saw my penis, tiny and motionless. I hadn't played with it, or touched it, or thought about it. It hadn't gone hard. I think I remember enjoying it. I looked up. "What do you mean?" "Daly showed us what a woman can do. She will be coming back here much more. You can't learn that. You will just have to go back to your room, and watch her." "No!" I screamed, then "no," much quieter. I shrank back against the door, holding it closed. "I need you!" I said, taking off my clothes. "Let me please you." I said, moving towards him. I dropped to my knees. "Let me please you." I begged, the tears flowing. I reached to open his trousers, but as I pulled his limp cock from his trousers he gently removed my hand. "You can't anymore." He stated, simply. He put his hands under my arms, lifted me up, and turned me towards the door. He picked up my clothes as he escorted me towards it. He was going to lock me away for life. He reached for the door. "No!" I screamed, once more, pushing my back against the door to hold it closed as I turned to him. "I'm not going back!" I gritted my teeth. "Make me like her." I told him, forcefully. "I'm not going back. Make me like her. I know you can do it! It can be done! Make me like her." He shrugged his shoulders. "Okay." He agreed. "You can wait here until we come to get you." He gently led me to the bed, and laid me down. The sheets were clean and crisp, and the mattress was soft. I slipped off into a deep sleep. I woke in a strange room. The walls were a warm, pale yellow. I was laid on a soft bed. There was a thick, soft blanket over me. There was a chair, and a table, and the TV. There were some magazines on the table. The floor was carpeted. There were no windows, and there was one door, and the light was turned off sometimes. In the dark I could rest, and sleep. In the dark there was only the music, somewhere. I recognised it again, and somehow knew that I danced to it. The beats were in my head. I don't know what they were. I was never a dancer, but I knew that I swayed to the rhythms of the music. Solid food was left on the table. There were fresh vegetables and fruit. One morning I had a whole carrot. I spent ages chewing on it, biting into it, hearing the delicious crunch as I closed my teeth around it. It made me laugh. It made me happy to make that carrot crunch. Apples made me laugh too. They were so sweet I gasped when I bit into them. There were still the shakes. I wasn't hungry so much, if at all, but I wanted to see the men again. I could see people in pictures in the magazines, and I could read their words, and find out about them, but I couldn't talk to them. The TV came on. Daly performed her strip, and then lay down on the bed, and invited the man to come to her. She opened her legs wide to accept him into her, and he fucked her slowly while she cried like an animal. It made me happy. They were showing me this because soon they would tire of her, and I would be with them forever. I don't know when I first noticed the change at my crotch. I think I woke slowly from a dream in that room, as the magazines brought the outside world back into my life and the real food awoke my senses. When I did see it, bare, as I put on a fresh pair of panties, I thought little of it. I had no desire to touch it, nor did I feel much difference, having forgotten what to compare it to. I'm sure I imagined what to compare it to, but had no real recollection of the feelings of what I used to have there. I looked at it, and knew that it was a tool. A powerful tool that would keep me with the men, in company, pleasing them and making them want me. This time I saw the door slowly swing open by itself. The room was little different from the room I had got so used to. It felt like home. I stood up, tugged my skirt down tidy and adjusted my top, pulling the creases out of the lycra and smoothing it over my tits. I shook my hair out. It was getting long, much longer than I recall when I last went to this room. A long time must have passed. I entered, and the man beamed a wide smile. "Can you remember how to strip?" He asked. I replied by showing him just how well I remembered, and took my time over it. Suddenly, all the curves of my body were coming back to me, and even I was surprised at the size of my tits as they were released from my bra into my waiting arms. I danced closer to him, and presented him my body as I swayed in front of his face. I sank onto his lap, and put my arms around his neck. He put his hand on my face. It was odd. It was like he was exploring me. I don't recall the last time I felt my face. I don't recall anyone feeling my face. None of the men had ever done that. His hand though was touching, stroking, feeling. He was investigating my lips, my nose, my hair. I paused. Was his hand big, or was my nose small. I couldn't tell. My lips felt thick. His hand felt good. I leaned into it as it rested on my cheek. I nuzzled. Then it was gone. He was picking me up and laying me on the bed. I didn't know what to do. He gently opened my legs for me, and carefully lowered himself onto me. I didn't have a clue what was going to happen. Then I felt his cock. I felt his fingers too, gently guiding it into position. I felt it pushing at my crotch, then suddenly it wasn't pushing anymore, but sliding. It was separating me, and moving inside. It was something like when it entered my ass, but it was something else. This time it wasn't hard, or painful, or sharp or hot. This time it was smooth, and soft, and I could squeeze it and hold it tight, like I was hugging it. This time it didn't disappear, only to prod, and poke. This time it stroked, and smoothed, and filled me up. This time it didn't rub some odd place that excited me while it hurt. This time it touched on a zone, as he moved in and out, a zone just above his cock that it would slide against. The zone was nice, the zone was pleasant, the zone was building up pleasure like a dam, holding the pressure as he moved and feeling better each stroke as the sensations built on each other. He grew faster, and I started to moan. I began to feel that he was missing the spot, and I arched and curved to push it closer to his pumping dick. It was better with him deep inside me. It wasn't a new feeling. Something had been there before, I could almost remember, but I wasn't supposed to perhaps. It wasn't new to feel something inside, but it was new to feel it move. I wanted it to move, to stroke me, but I wanted it deep inside where it felt so good, and he kept hitting the spot. I wrapped my legs around him, and squeezed against him, but he almost couldn't move. I let him go, but I was getting frustrated by my closeness to something great. I began to scream, and mentally tear my hair. I don't know what I was doing, but I needed him to touch me all over. My tits were shaking wildly, distracting me, and I reached to hold them in my hands. Suddenly he was pushing so deep it was almost in my throat, and bucking so wildly that the dam in my crotch burst, spraying erotic spasms all around my body. I let out a squeal of delight, before shuddering in exotic climax. It wasn't like that again. I was sad to leave the room but I knew I'd be back very soon. I was high from the pleasure, and the orgasm, and the company. But it wasn't like that again. Sometimes it was nice, if the men were feeling kind to me. From then on though, they taught me how to please them properly. I learned how to do the work. It didn't make me feel bad that I didn't get to orgasm again, because they were happier with what I learned, and the better I got, the less I stayed alone. I learned positions, and techniques. I practised squeezing and controlling my muscles. I used both of my orifices. The first time I took a man in my arse again though, it hurt like hell again, though it didn't take long for the pain to go. I must have spent time healing up. One day, while I was resting, a man came into my room. "I'm going to take you back to our room." He said. "However, you mustn't talk. One word, and you're back to the old room, watching your girlfriend with us." I nodded. I rarely talked except to myself when bored, and I had rarely been bored recently. "Also," he added, as he escorted me out, "you must do what you are told, no matter who tells you." That also was just a fact of life. Why did they need to tell me this? I knew when I entered the room. Daly was there, sitting on the side of the bed. My heart skipped. Another human, my girlfriend, fine and well. It was one thing to see her on the screen, but another entirely to know that she was real, alive. I wanted to run over and hug her, to feel her, to know that she was really there. I wanted to shout her name, to call her, but the warning ran fresh and strong in my mind. It would not be worth it for that one moment of joy. I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to do it. And then I noticed her. She didn't care. Surely she felt something when she saw me. Surely she had been in the same situation, waiting for another human to arrive? Perhaps not. What had I known but my own tiny world for as long as I could recall. Oh, yes, there were memories before, happy memories, with her, but the distance was beyond reckoning. All I knew though was that I had done all that I had done because of her. Hadn't I? I wanted to keep her safe, of course, but all I had done recently was try to keep her away, and keep the men for myself. No, I couldn't think about that. We were together now, and we could stay together. "Gemma?" It was her voice. Who was Gemma? She was looking at me. "She's talking to you." Whispered the guy with me. "When she says Gemma, you answer. No speaking." I thought briefly of the old, grey walls. I looked at Daly and nodded my head. "Take the man to his seat, Gemma." She told me. I took him by the arm and sat him down. He was happy to go. "Now come over here." I walked over to the bed. "Strip for me, Gemma." I looked at her and smiled. She did know it was me. So long since we had been together and I knew just how to be sexy. I stripped and began to dance towards her. She stopped me at arms length, then stood and began her strip for me. It was so incredible in real life and her eyes and lips told me just how much she wanted me to fuck her. As she slipped off her bra, and those incredible, huge tits sprang out she put her hand behind my head and pulled my face into them. I kissed and sucked like they were the cocks that fed me. I began to stroke her body with my hands and lay my kisses all over her. She leaned back with moans of ecstasy and gently led me down to her crotch. As I nuzzled my nose in, she slipped back onto the bed, pulling me into her legs, and I began to lick at her clitoris like she always loved. Within seconds her juices were all over my face and then moments later she was tightening up like a coiled spring. I felt hands on my shoulder and I was pulled away. She let out a dissatisfied groan. The man rolled her onto her side, slid in behind her and entered her. She gasped, then moaned as he began to move, soon squealing with his actions. It didn't take long before he was sweating and grunting and she was sure to make him cum. But he moved before she could make him, rolling onto his back and her on top of him, laid on her back. I could see his cock buried in her vagina, the lips red and spread, moist white beads beginning to appear around his pink shaft. "Gemma," he panted, his hands tight around Daly's breasts, "get your face in there and lick her till she screams." I bent forward and put my mouth to the top of her vagina, feeling his cock move against my lower lip. I found her hard bud, the skin stretched tight around it, and began to lick and suck. She was tight almost instantly, almost rising off his straining cock, but he held her down, and she came so hard and fast that he didn't stand a chance, and pumped her full of his come. She was barely catching her breath, and he was laughing almost, and I had loved every moment of being with them. I wanted to do it all over again. Of course, I did. Once again, it was over and over. I never spoke, and I always answered to 'Gemma', even though I knew it wasn't my name. It was a girl's name, I guessed, though like many other things, it was something I would use to please them. Daly always told me what to do, and the games changed, though there was always the common thread of pleasing the man. Just it was up to her how it was done, or up to him, if he wanted to see us do something together. Then it all changed again. There was no man in the room. The furniture had changed. There was some kind of desk with chairs either side, and a whole host of things on it. Daly was sat at one chair. "Gemma," she began. "Come in and take a seat." I sat across from her. "You can't talk, can you?" I couldn't quite answer that question. "I mean, you're not allowed to talk, are you?" I shook my head. "They used to hurt me, put me in a chair and use electric shocks." She stated. "I can understand why you don't want to talk if you've been told not to." She looked wistful for a moment. "We're supposed to make each other look good for the men. These are our tools." She waved her hand across the table above all the bottles and containers. "I'm to show you how. I don't know why, but I don't ask." I understood. She filed my nails, and showed me how to do hers and my own. She showed me how to paint them, not that it was hard. The paint made them look even longer than they were. She took a brush and brushed out my hair, and I did the same to hers, then she taught me to plait, and french braid, and how to do my own hair. The lessons continued across several days, at the end of each of which we would display our work to one of the men, who would choose the better model, and let the other suck him off as a reward for her work. I became an expert at painting Daly's face very quickly, and she mine. Then we were back to pleasing the men, but with ten minutes beforehand together, to get ourselves ready. I was moved again. In the new room I had a bath and a toilet. I was used to a bucket with a seat and a bowl with a towel. I stared at them for ages before I finally reached over to flush the toilet. The sound made me incredibly happy, and I began laughing and crying with joy. At first I used the bath just as I had used the bowl. Finally I could stand it no more and climbed in. It was empty, but I wanted to feel it around me. I ran the water, and soaked my clothes, but I loved every soaking moment. The presence of a brush on the table made me wonder. I had never given much thought to how I stayed clean, or how my hair was washed and brushed, or how I remained almost hairless. Now I knew that the hair on my legs, arms and torso was simply not growing. And my face was completely smooth. It was something that I would never be able to remember. Just as now that I was eating sandwiches, and small pieces of salad, so I could barely recall living on shakes. The sensations, the new feelings, the sounds and sights and tastes were all so fresh that previous dullness was overpowered and blanked away. I was brushing my own hair, and couldn't remember not doing it. I was crunching lettuce, and couldn't remember sipping shakes. I was bathing, and the warmth of the water drowned any memories of cold splashes on my face and arms. This life was new, and growing, and I was embracing it tightly so that it would never leave me again. I would wake from sleep, and read anything new that had been left for me. I would eat the fruit and drink the juice. The TV might begin to show a film, or a soap, or a show like Oprah, or a cookery show. There was information, and interest, and excitement. Lunch was delivered under the door. I would relish the salad and the fresh sandwiches, with their multitude of tastes exploding together in the mouth. Then soon the door would open, and I would meet Daly to make up, and we would spend the rest of the day enjoying each other and pleasing the men. Oh, I still wanted more, and I knew it was out there, because I could remember it, but I would do nothing to lose what I had. So, Daly still told me what to do, and I did it without question. Finally it all came to an end. Instead of being led back to my room I was told to dress and Daly and I were led out of the same door. Daly was headed down a corridor to the right but the man took us both left. We passed through two doors by which time I was utterly lost, and would never have been able to find my way back. I was very scared and beginning to panic. I felt his grip tighten. After the third door we came to a flight of stairs. I was very unsteady on my heels, and at the top I felt my legs aching. This was the furthest I'd been. The door opened at the top and there was light. Not just light, this was natural light. I knew instantly the difference it made to everything. The light was coming from doorways along the corridor. I tried to look in but just saw the furnishings of a large house. At the third door we turned left and into the room. The huge window at the back was beautiful. There were clouds dimming the light, but there were trees out there like I'd only seen in pictures. A man stood in the window. I couldn't really see his face, but I recognised the way he stood. I knew him from before here. He was the link that brought it all back. The kidnapping, the imprisonment. Before I changed he was there and he was the cause. The last time I met him was long ago. I was Martin, and I hated him. It was a distant memory, but growing closer. But I was scared by him, and confused. He was a new face, an interesting face, and a new human. I wanted to hug him and kill him. He turned to me. "Gemma, it's so good to see you at last. Come into the light." I stepped towards him timidly. "My, but you are beautiful. Would you like to strip for me?" In this room of textures and colours, objects and lights, so full of sensation I felt dwarfed and unsexy. But would pleasing him mean staying here? And would he not hurt me if he was happy? I began to unzip the back of my skirt. "Oh, no, you don't have to. I just wanted to know if you would. Actually, I would like you to strip for yourself. Come over here." He gently pulled my arm until I was standing before a wardrobe. There was a girl facing me. She was very slim, if not thin. Her face was pale, but soft, and beautifully made up, with large, ruby red lips in an open bow below her button nose. Her soft cheekbones were raised sharply by colour, and her large eyes were framed by arched brows, and deepened by dark, long lashes. Her face was framed by long, rich dark hair which fell over her shoulders. Her waist looked almost cinched by a black skirt that clung tightly to her wide hips and held in a blue blouse. Under the blouse pushing forward were an unnaturally large pair of breasts, dwarfing the proportions of her slim frame. Only her long, sheerly stockinged legs standing on high heels could compare with them. I reached out to her, and her arm came toward my own. I brought my hand quickly back to my face, and her hand shot to her lips. I felt the large, red, soft flesh then moved up to my nose. "That's Gemma." Said the criminal from behind me, pointing at the mirror. "She's beautiful, isn't she?" I nodded mutely. "Why don't you do that strip now?" He suggested. I slowly began to move, unable to take my eyes off the reflection. Her strip was erotic in a way that Daly's could never be, as each motion matched my thought of exactly what I wanted to see next. When she played with her tits for me, she knew exactly what I wanted to see, and what I wanted to do. When her panties slipped off her hips, she was ready to do anything I wanted her to do. "Gemma?" Came the voice from behind me. I turned. "Why don't you tell us what your name is, Gemma?" "Gemma," I whispered. "I can't hear you." "Gemma," I croaked. I coughed slightly, my little used throat was betraying me. "Exercise your voice, my dear. Say 'my name is Gemma'." "My name is Gemma." I repeated. "Again, louder, clearer." "My name is Gemma." And again, stronger. "My name is Gemma." Suddenly I saw Daly turn incredibly pale. I looked at her. "Martin?" She asked me. "My name is Gemma." I replied. "Martin? Oh, my God!" She passed out in the arms of the man who brought us in. I began to weep slightly. I don't know why. I was Martin, yes. I was Martin, once. "Very good, Gemma." Said the criminal. He put his arms around me and slowly removed his trousers. "Now let's see if we've made you as good as we've made you beautiful." I felt his cock rise between my legs, and knew only one way to treat it, and that was good. As I dropped down to suck on it, I wondered how I would ever be Martin again.