Home > Miscellaneous > Oops > Chapter 1
Since starting on the Pill a couple of weeks ago, it had gotten harder and harder for her to come. She'd masturbated for as long as she could remember, usually two or even three times a night unless she was sick, but it had gotten harder and harder to actually come over the last two weeks. There was no problem getting turned on, or even getting herself close to orgasm, but it was taking longer and longer to get the rest of the way over the edge. And for the last three nights, she hadn't managed it at all, leaving her a walking mass of vibrating, frustrated nerves. The night before, she'd spent three hours rubbing herself, only to finally give up, sobbing, when she heard her mother coming in from work after midnight.
The confusion stemmed from a different source entirely. She thought. She wasn't entirely sure. Maybe it was just that she was hornier and more frustrated than she'd ever been in her life.
She wasn't gay, but she'd always been able to enjoy looking at girls on an aesthetic level, all smooth curves and soft skin. Nothing sexual, just... nice to look at. But something had happened that afternoon after school that she hadn't been able to get out of her head.
She'd been in the girls' bathroom when one of the other girls in her class was changing. She wasn't entirely sure why the girl had been changing— from a dress to a faded t-shirt and jeans.
For a moment, they were alone in the bathroom, the girl— Anne was her name, she thought— standing there in nothing but her white lace panties and bra as she folded the dress neatly. She found herself staring at the girl, dark black curls framing big green eyes set in a delicate face, flawless white skin, breasts which were, truthfully, not much more than swellings on her chest, long, slender legs ending in delicate feet.
The bra was more decoration than support for the tiny breasts, and as the girl bent over to tuck the dress away in her bag, it fell away slightly, revealing a momentary glimpse of tiny, perfect pink nipples before the girl straightened. She caught Brynna's gaze and froze for a moment before flushing and turning away, dressing hurriedly.
Brynna wasn't sure if the girl realized she'd been staring, and part of her wasn't sure what it wanted the answer to be. The only thing she was sure of was the fact that she hadn't been able to get the image out of her mind all afternoon.
Even when she was fixing dinner for her younger sister, she caught herself remembering it, the tiny delicate nipples, the way the girl's skin had turned bright pink, the soft white skin of the girl's ass...
Now she was in bed, and frustrated. Again. She couldn't find any of the stories she liked to read, the kind that got her off quickly— girls being captured by pirates, or Nazis, or mad scientists, forced to do humiliating things while being used as a plaything. It was the same problem she'd had for the last three nights, but worse, because the image of the almost-naked girl kept distracting her.
Finally, so frustrated she wanted to scream, she gave in. She never fantasized about real people, ever; it made her feel... creepy, afterward. But she was so desperate that she didn't care anymore. If she ended up not coming again she'd... she'd... she didn't know what she'd do, but she couldn't take it.
She was careful, at first. She imagined what the girl would look like without the bra, and raised one hand to her chest, two fingers of the other hand rubbing her clit in little circles. She stiffened when she cupped one of her breasts, pretending it was Anne's breast she was touching, imagining what it would feel like to touch the puffy little mounds, the tiny little nipple, and it felt like a bolt of lightning shot from her nipple to her clit as she did.
She bit her lip, imagining the girl's eyes closing in pleasure as she brushed her thumb across her nipple, arching her hips as another jolt shot through her. Her face was flushed, and her fingers wet and sticky.
She sucked in a sudden breath as she remembered what the girl's panties had looked like, lacy and smooth against her skin.
Either the girl didn't have any hair down there, or she shaved it. The sudden image of the girl shaving, drawing a razor across the slick, wet skin, made her shiver, and she could feel herself getting even wetter than she already was.
She was closer to coming than she'd gotten at any point the night before, much closer, but not quite there. Not enough closer. So she let herself wonder what it would feel like to be touched by the other girl, how it would feel to have those tiny, delicate hands cupping her breasts— and she cupped one of hers, lightly, letting just the fingertips touch, pretending it was Anne touching her, breathing harder, trailing her fingers over the breast, one brushing her nipple.
She licked her suddenly dry lips, and the feel of her tongue brought another image to her mind. Anne, on the bed between her legs.
She slipped a finger down between her cunt lips, wetting it, then drew it up and over her clit in short, rhythmic motions, like what she imagined a tongue would feel like, like what she imagined Anne's tongue would feel like, and her nipples tingled as she came closer to orgasm.
But not close enough. Her clit was sore from the night before, and the pain was just enough to distract her, to keep her from coming, and she let herself slide deeper into the fantasy, adding in things she'd read that never failed to turn her on.
Anne was on her knees in front of her, arms cuffed behind her back, pulled painfully close together. Brynna's hands were dug into the brunette's hair as the brunette licked her frantically, her hair wet and matted from the standing girl's juices, plastered to her head.
"That's right, little slut. Lick me. Lick my clit. You know you like it, don't you, slut? You like it when I let you lick my cunt, don't you?" She waited a moment, then pulled Anne's head away. "Don't you?"
The smaller girl looked miserable, and her chin quivered, but she nodded, and Brynna smiled. "Then show me what a good cunt licker you are."
Anne practically dove back into Brynna's cunt, lapping at her clit, leaving no doubt that she desperately needed to be doing what she was doing, and Brynna caressed the back of her head. "That's right, my little slut. You need to lick my cunt. You want to be my little slut, my little cunt-licking whore, and you know it, don't you? Mmm, oh yeah, just like that..."
She stood in front of Anne with a whip in her hand. "I'm going to hurt you, little slut. And do you know why I'm going to hurt you?"
The brunette shook her head, eyes wide and frightened. "N-no. Please, don't— aaaah!" She screamed as the whip wrapped around her side, leaving a raised welt.
Anne opened her mouth to answer, but snapped it shut when Brynna raised the whip threateningly, instead nodding frantically.
"Better, slut. When I ask you a question, you nod or shake your head unless I tell you to talk, understand?" Anne nodded frantically again, and Brynna smiled. "Good. Now, do you understand why I'm going to hurt you?"
"Because I can. Because you are mine. You're my slut, my little fuck toy, and I can do whatever I want with you." Brynna smiled again. "Anything I want. And I want to hurt you. You can scream, if you want."
Anne's eyes widened even further as Brynna drew back the whip, and she did scream. Over and over, as the whip lashed into her body, leaving her perfect skin welted and raised, breaking the skin and letting blood trickle down. She screamed, and then she begged, pushed beyond endurance, unable not to beg, and Brynna smiled. "You're my little slut, aren't you? My little fuck-toy. You know it, don't you? Tell me!"
"I know you will." Brynna uncuffed the girl's arms from the wall, letting her fall onto the floor in front of her in a bleeding, sobbing heap. "Lick me, fuck-toy."
Anne threw her arms around Brynna's legs, pulling herself up so that she could lick desperately at Brynna's cunt, clumsily, obviously having never done this before. Knowing that this was the first time she'd ever done this almost made Brynna come.
She sobbed, frustrated, her clit sore, her legs aching from having been tensed for over an hour now. So close. So close. But not quite there.
Anne hung on the wall, where Brynna hang chained her several hours before. She was whimpering and squirming in pain, and Brynna smiled coldly. "You're mine, whore. Just admit it. Just admit that your body belongs to me, that your mind belongs to me..." She stepped forward, catching Anne's chin in her hand and holding her head while she kissed her, roughly, forcing her tongue into the girl's mouth. "That your heart belongs to me. You're mine, and you know it. Stop fighting it."
"Please, don't... don't make me... please..." Anne squirmed, trying to pull her legs together, but the chains weren't quite long enough. "I can't."
"You can, and you will. You don't have a choice. I want you to, and you're going to. You are mine. Admit it, and stop fighting it, and I'll give you what you want."
Brynna smiled, stepping closer. "Mistress. I like that. I like that a lot. You're going to call me Mistress from now on, understand, toy?"
"I think you deserve a reward for being such a good slut," Brynna said, stepping closer again. "I'm going to make you come."
Brynna chuckled. "You don't have a choice in this, either." She grabbed the back of the smaller girls neck, pulling her head back, as her other hand slipped between the girl's legs. "You're mine," she whispered, her mouth a fraction of an inch away from the other girl's ear. "You come when I tell you to. And I'm telling you... to... come..." Her lips trailed down, little butterfly kisses, until she came to the join of the girl's shoulder and neck, and then she bit down, hard.
Hard enough to break the skin, and Anne screamed, loudly, and then louder still as the fingers on her clit joined the sudden pain to send her over the edge, writhing. When she finally came down, Brynna kissed her, hard, her blood still on her lips.
"Then do it," Brynna whispered. "Right here, right now, while I play with your clit. You're mine. You hurt when I tell you to. You come when I tell you to. And if I tell you to piss yourself, you do that. You know you're mine. Admit it, and stop fighting me."
Anne sobbed, a broken sound. "I can't!" She broke into choking sobs. "I can't, Mistress, I'm sorry, I just can't!"
Brynna reached over, picking up a small box from the table beside her. "Ever since I saw these for the first time," she said, brushing a thumb over Anne's tiny nipples, "I've wanted to see what they'd look like if they were... properly adorned. I think they'll be so beautiful."
"So I'm going to give you the jewelry they're practically crying out for," Brynna said. "When two people get married, they exchange rings. But when a Mistress claims her slave beyond any release, she uses these."
Anne's eyes widened in fear as Brynna opened the box, revealing two captive-bead rings and two needles. "M-mistress, p-please don't... n-needles... I-I c-can't—" Her face went dead pale, and she began to shiver. "P-please!"
"Mine," Brynna said firmly. "I can do whatever I want with you. And I'm going to." She picked up a clamp and squeezed Anne's right nipple in it. "Right now."
Brynna picked up the needle, barely touching it to the nipple. Looking Anne directly in the eye, she said, "Mine," and pushed the needle through in one motion.
Anne screamed, loud, the sound echoing in the chamber, and lost control of her bladder, the piss running down her legs and spattering on the floor. She pulled against the chains hard, trying to get loose, but Brynna didn't let go of the needle, and the pain from pulling against it made her scream again and slump.
"I told you," Brynna said, looking her in the eye. "You're mine. You'll do as I say, and you do it when I tell you to. Do you understand now?"
Anne looked up at her, and something was different. Something had changed. She wasn't broken, but she knew. She knew that she belonged to Brynna. She knew that she was Brynna's to do with as she wanted. She knew that she was Brynna's slave.
She held up the other needle. "You do, don't you," she said softly, and Anne nodded, slowly, never looking away.
"I'm going to pierce your other nipple. And you're going to hold perfectly still, and you're not going to scream. And then you're going to thank me for your new jewelry. Understand?"
Brynna clamped the other nipple, and Anne's fingers clenched the chains attached to her cuffs, holding on so tightly that her knuckles where white, eyes wide and breathing fast, but the only sound she made as the needle slid through her tender nipple was a faint, high-pitched keening.
"Oh!" Anne said after a moment, remembering. "T-thank you, Mistress, for my new jewelry. And..." she hesitated, as if unsure, then rushed on. "Thank you for showing me that I belong to you."
Brynna smiled. "Good girl. Now I'm going to let you down, because my cunt is so wet, and you're going to lick me. Ready?"
Brynna unfastened one wrist, then the other. For a moment it seemed as if Anne was able to stand on her own, but then her legs buckled, and she fell to her knees in the puddle of piss.
Brynna ran a hand over Anne's head. "I know you didn't. But you did. And it's a good way for me to prove to you even more that you're mine."
Brynna pushed on Anne's shoulder, forcing her down, until the smaller girl squealed in pain as her freshly pierced nipples were pressed into the puddle and against the rough floor, the liquid stinging painfully.
And Brynna came, hard, biting the back of her hand as she screamed, coming harder than she'd ever come in her life, the orgasm rushing over her and past her, harder and faster than ever before. It lasted an eternity, and when she finally came down, she could taste blood from where her teeth had broken the skin.
Brynna lay there, very still, trying to control her panting, listening to make sure she wasn't heard.
There was no sound, though, no indication that anyone had been listening at the door, or through a wall, and gradually she relaxed. Then she got up, went into the bathroom, washed up, and spent a long while staring into the mirror, wondering just what sort of person she was turning into. Real people had no place in fantasy. Hell, she'd never put herself in her fantasies before, much less anyone she knew. And then, to break that 'rule' in such an extreme way, with so much violence and cruelty... She felt vaguely ill. And still turned on as hell by the images.
Brynna sighed, then opened the cabinet, pulling out a bandage to hide the bite mark on her hand. She went back to bed more confused than she'd started out.
Guilty conscience or simply increased awareness? Brynna didn't know, but by midday she'd seen Anne more than she recalled seeing her all year. She seemed to be everywhere, and Brynna was going crazy trying to avoid looking at her. She felt flushed and ill from guilt, and was strongly considering going home sick.
It was a long, long night. She kept seeing bits of the fantasy every time she started to drift off and jerking awake. Morning necessitated a long shower. A long, cold shower, just in case it would help. It didn't. It just woke her up enough that she felt good enough to get really turned on. So she wasn't in the best of moods when she made it to school, and finding Anne lurking near her locker when she knew for a fact that hers was on the other side of the building was just about too damned much. She practically yanked open her locker and leaned inside it, eyes closed and jaw clenched.
Twice more during the day, Brynna ran into her in places she was pretty sure she shouldn't even be. Or was that just the guilt again? After all, she didn't really know anything about the girl, certainly not enough to be certain of her schedule. But... it still seemed odd. And, for some reason, naggingly familiar.
She didn't masturbate that night, either. Nor did she sleep, to speak of. What dreams she had were erotic, visions of Anne's skin under her hands, under her tongue, the taste of Anne's cunt...
Brynna woke with a groan, slammed her fist violently into the alarm clock, rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Screw it. She wasn't going to torture herself again today. Obviously, she was over-stressed and it was fucking with her head. A day off was just what she needed.
The door swung open. "You can't just be skipping school anytime you don't feel good! You need to get good grades so you can get a scholarship. I can't afford to send you to college, you know that. Now, c'mon. Up!"
Brynna didn't budge. "I don't skip school. I never skip school. You know that. I told you, I'm sick. It's probably those stupid pills. The damned things are messing me up!"
Her mother walked over, pressing her hand on Brynna's forehead. "You don't feel like you have a fever."
"I don't have a fever," Brynna admitted grudgingly. "But my head is killing me, and I can't sleep, and I think it's turning me into a raving psycho-bitch."
"That's because I'm extra careful around her, and she stays in her room, mostly, anyway. But at school I'm totally on edge," she said. "I'm afraid I might hurt someone."
"Well, I doubt you'd do that. Honey, school is important. I want you to have a better life that this. That's why I got you on the pills, and that's why you're going to college. You don't want to be like me, all broken down by the time you're thirty," her mother said.
Brynna sighed. "You're not broken down. You're exhausted. And that's what I'm headed for now if I can't get some rest. And I told you before I'm not interested in even having a boyfriend right now, much less sex." She hesitated, aware of the not exactly truthful nature of that statement, then added to make it better, "I've never met a guy that I found even vaguely interesting in that way, much less worth the effort and risk and time. Trust me on this."
"Great." Her mother smiled. "If you hurry, I can drop you off at school so that you don't have to walk."
Constantly running into the girl was bad enough. But the sad puppy eyes, when Brynna finally identified them, was just too much. For the first time, she did skip a class. She spent fifth period in the nurse's office, laying down with an ice-pack over her eyes, thinking. She couldn't think of any logical explanation. Except... maybe it was the incident that started the whole vicious cycle? The girl was gay and closeted, perhaps, and thought since Brynna'd spent that surprised instant staring that... but wouldn't she say something, if that were the case? Oh fuck, what if that were the case, and she was just that shy. That would be... bad. Very bad.
She went home early. She just couldn't take it. Not facing the girl between every class, seeing the sad, kicked puppy-dog eyes... she couldn't take it. So she went home early and collapsed in bed. Maybe she should talk to her. Would it really be all that bad to... Whoa. Yes. Yes it would. Because her fantasies were too extreme to get what she wanted. If the girl weren't so shy, were a bit stronger-willed, were a bit bigger for godsake! Then... maybe. But as is, she'd probably kill her and end up locked away with the other violent sociopaths. So. Not good. No matter how pretty the sad eyes were. How soft her skin looked. How lovely the little breasts....
Finally, after hours of worrying about it, after her sister got home, she made them dinner, and was once again in bed, she managed to convince herself that the real problem was that the fantasy was new. New fantasies always had a strong hold on her until they got old and dull. And this one, she hadn't indulged at all, so of course it was approaching obsessive proportions. What she needed to do was just... use it up. Explore it completely, every little nook and cranny, over and over again, until it lost its hold on her. Then she could smile at the girl, and be an understanding friend to come out to if she needed one, without all of the... tension.
She went to it enthusiastically, with more than a bit of relief, reliving every little bit of the fantasy, lingering over her favorite parts, mentally exploring every inch of soft white skin, doing things that she would never do in real life, or even admit to wanting to do. Over and over again.
Brynna sighed, turning away from Anna's sad gaze at school the next day. If anything, it was worse. Both the fixation, and the puppy-dog eyes... though she knew she hadn't done anything to encourage the latter. It was just there. And Anna moved like she was hurting, too, like her headache was as bad as Brynna's, or like... someone had hit her? Could that be the reason behind the sorrowful gaze— she was looking not for a girlfriend but a rescuer? Well hell, Bryn could do that! She straightened, flooded with relief, and started to turn and ask, just blurt it out, but she froze, confused again as she remembered the real skin that she'd seen had been totally unmarked. Not a bruise, or a cut, or even a visible scar. So it seemed unlikely, suddenly, that her father, or brother, or boyfriend was beating her.
The rest of the day went the same way, and after school, by some quirk of fate, she found herself alone with Anne in that same bathroom as the first day. The smaller girl looked like a deer trapped in the headlights, visibly shaking.
Brynna's eyes widened in horrified realization. "You're afraid of me!" She didn't mean to actually say it, it just slipped out. "Why?"
Anne shivered, then took a deep breath. "What did I do, Mistress? Have I made you angry? I..." Her hands fumbled at her shirt, lifting it up. "I know you have to give me the rings, but I wanted to show you that I know I belong to you..." She pulled her shirt off over her head.
The pins were huge. Diaper-pin-sized, not harmless little things meant to hold a strap in place. Brynna stared, horrified, and took a panicked step backwards, coming up against the sinks. "What the hell?"
"M-mistress?" Anne said, trembling. "I... I thought you w-wanted them p-pierced. You s-said you'd b-been w-wondering how they'd l-look..." Her chin quivered, and a tear slipped down her cheek as she dropped to her knees. "Don't you w-want me any m-more?"
"Oh god," Brynna whispered, then closed her eyes. The possibilities ran desperately through her mind. Hallucinating? Maybe, no way to tell. Joke? No. Those pin were no fucking joke. Unless the nipples had already been pierced, and she just replaced normal jewelry? But how would she know what to say? No matter what, how would she know what to say? Her sister listening at doors and carrying tales, maybe? But that felt wrong, even if it was possible, which she was almost certain it wasn't. One little squeak, yeah... a running commentary? No way she would have done that out loud. So what then? Some kind of weird telepathic connection? Or a hallucination. Had to be one or the other.
"M-mistress?" Anne was still holding her shirt up over her head. "P-please, just t-tell me what I did. I'll be g-good, I promise! I'll do whatever you want! If you want me to lick up the whole puddle next time, I will, I promise! Just don't be mad at me, please!"
Brynna couldn't prove it was a hallucination. She was familiar with that old exercise... you can't prove anything is real, ever. She was also familiar with the standard bit of correlational advice: since you can't prove the reality of anything you observe, you must therefore deal with reality as it is observed. But in this case... she sure as hell didn't want to! If she looked at it as real, though... then Anne had been hurt. Badly. By her. Intentional or not, she owed her. Brynna took a deep breath and reached out, gently tugging the girl's shirts from her hands, then urging her to her feet. "C'mon," she said softly. "Get up now."
Brynna flinched. "Don't. You don't have to do that. I... I don't know what happened. But I'm going to fix it. I'll make it right. I promise."
Brynna shuddered. "Everything," she said fervently. "But you've gotta tell me... tell me what happened. What you think happened," she corrected. "What you experience was."
"Oh." Anne's eyes widened. "Oh! I think I understand." She looked at Brynna for a moment. "Would you prefer it if I called you Brynna instead of Mistress?"
Anne smiled, turning her face from beautiful to... something more. "Okay, Brynna. I think I understand the problem. You weren't mad at me at all, were you?"
"Mad at you?" Brynna stared down at her, aghast. "Of course I'm not mad at you! Why the hell—" She broke off, rubbing her forehead and closing her eyes. "Look, honey," she said more gently, "you're the victim here. One hundred percent. I didn't mean to hurt you, and I don't have the slightest clue how I did, but I did. Period. So I'm going to fix it. And if I seem angry, it's sure a hell not at you!"
Anne nodded, somehow seeming far more composed than just moments before. "I thought that's why you wouldn't talk to me, that I'd somehow done something to make you angry. And of course I couldn't say anything to you."
"WHAT?" Brynna slapped a hand over her mouth, wanting to take back the angry explosion, then covered her eyes with it, groaning. "Look. Just... forget that, okay? Or, um, try to. I know it's going to be hard, and I... I'll help as best I can. Maybe... maybe get you a therapist or something, I don't know yet, I just don't, but whatever it takes." She swallowed hard, her throat tightening up. "Just please believe that I never meant to hurt you. And I'm going to fix it. Whatever it takes."
Anne looked at her for a moment before sighing. "Brynna... Mistress... could we talk about this somewhere else? Please? I don't think you've hurt me, but... this isn't really the place. I was willing, when I thought I was losing you, but..."
Brynna rubbed her forehead tiredly. "Don't call me that. That can be your first step. You can't possibly regain your self-worth if you're deferring to your abuser," she said. "And yes. We can go somewhere else. Where would you feel safe?"
"No," Brynna said firmly. "I know what went into making you feel that, but it's not true. And I'm going to make sure you recover from it. Whatever it takes, for however long it takes. It's all I can do." She sighed unhappily. "But you're going to have to tell me what you know. So come on, let's get out of this place."
"Okay." She hesitated. "Can I have my shirt back? I mean, I don't have to have it, but it'd be kind of a... problem. I'd probably get expelled."
"What do you mean you don't have to h—" Brynna began, then snapped her mouth closed, breathing harshly, trying to get control of herself. "Yes, I mean," she said, trying for calm but coming closer to tight. "Of course you can have it. It's yours. Wearing it or not is your choice. No one else's. I'm sorry. I should have given it back right away."
Anne smiled again, taking the shirt. "It's okay, Brynna. Look, I didn't understand it myself Monday night, but I think I've got something of a grip on it by now." She pulled the shirt over her head, carefully. "I... Brynna? Even if you aren't ready to give me the rings right now, could we stop by the mall so I could buy a pair of barbells? That'd be a lot more comfortable."
Brynna gritted her teeth. "How about we stop by the drugstore and get some antibiotic ointment and bandaids instead, and you can just take them out?"
"Uh..." Anne hesitated. "If that's what you want. But... it'd be really hard to do them a third time. I almost couldn't do them last night. It was actually worse than the first time, because I knew what was coming. You'd probably have to tie me down extremely well, because, well..." She took a deep breath. "I've got a full fledged phobia of needles. I was really hoping that it would be better, but when I sat down to do them last night..." She shook her head. "So... I'll do what you want, of course, but I'd prefer the barbells. Those can always be taken out later, if needed."
Brynna leaned against the wall, her face pale and greenish tinted. "Jesus..." She closed her eyes, shuddering. "Oh god. What did I do?" she whispered. "Honey... it's your body. Yours, got that. You can do or undo or not do whatever you want to it. Don't do anything because of my sick little mind game. Only do what you want."
Anne rested one small hand on her cheek. "It doesn't work that way. But I think you're making assumptions, okay? There's a whole lot you don't know. I don't think that what you're assuming is right."
Brynna trembled, and carefully reached up and removed the little hand. "Yes. It does. If you want to keep them, keep them. If you don't, don't. It doesn't matter what you think I want, because I would never even ask you to do something like that, ever again, much less force you to do it. Understand?" she asked. "I will not hurt you again."
Anne looked her in the eye. "Mistress, there is nothing I want more in the world right now than to have you replace these pins with rings, and claim me as your own forever."
Brynna moaned, covering her face with her hands. "This cannot be happening. There's no way. It's just a dream caused by guilt and stress. I just have to deal with it, follow it through, but I'll wake up eventually," she murmured, desperately, then straightened up, her eyes a touch wild. "It's going to be okay. I'm going to find out how to help you, and you're going to be fine. Until then, if you're more comfortable with bars in, then we can do that. It's not a problem. It's your choice."