The Mirror Made Me Do It, Part 4

*

The vibe was making it hard to think.

She contemplated escape. The pillow beneath her was easy, the spreader bar locked to her ankles more difficult. The butt plug a humiliating inconvenience; the vibe a distraction. But the cable tie that locked her wrist cuff to the headboard was a significant obstacle.

Best to start with the pillow, and then the vibe. At least, then, she could move a little more freely and think a little more clearly.

It was a simple matter. Move her free hand to the pillow, grab, pull. The decision was made. The plan – such as it was – ready to be enacted.

So why wasn’t she doing it?

Her arm refused to move. Oh, she could wiggle her fingers and bend her elbow perfectly normally, but when she tried to grasp and pull the pillow, nothing happened.

Red sobbed in frustration, her fist thumping ineffectually into the mattress, serving to do little more than make Anne’s phone jump slightly.

She took a steadying breath, then another. In the corner of her eye sat the mirrors, reflecting her helpless nudity, her body displayed obscenely. Was Anne watching even now? Perhaps she could watch through any mirror, not just the one Red had seen in the house. Red knew Anne wouldn’t want to miss this show. Yet if she couldn’t use just any mirror to watch, then she must have the mirror nearby, which meant she had a home in New York.

Fat lot of good that conclusion does me now, Red thought bitterly.

So she couldn’t move the pillow. Perhaps, at least, she could stand up. Even with the awkward hampering of the spreader bar, if she could slip her legs to the side she might be able to stand. Maybe find a way to apply some leverage to the cable tie holding her cuff to the headboard.

There was no way she was calling Alfie for help if she could escape on her own. Whoever the hell ‘Alfie’ was. Oh, she’d met him – both Steven and Anne had confirmed that – but if he’d made so little impression on her that she couldn’t even pick him out of the list of dates her father had arranged for her, then how did that reflect on him? Or on me, a voice in her head added, but she wasn’t in the mood to listen.

No, escape first. Self-reflection and recriminations later.

Why weren’t her legs moving? The spreader bar didn’t feel that heavy. In fact, she knew it wasn’t – she’d held it herself.

Had Anne fed her some kind of paralytic? No… she’d eaten and drunk nothing. And she could wiggle her toes, flex her muscles.

So why couldn’t she swing her legs to the side? Or roll her hips? Or move the damn pillow?

Tears of frustration spilled from her eyes.

Think, she commanded herself, think.

And then, with a lurch in her stomach that made her feel nauseous, she realised.

“For the avoidance of doubt, you are not to attempt to move from your current position until given permission to do so.”

No. It couldn’t be. Could it? But she didn’t want to obey Anne anymore! It wasn’t a game anymore!

Had it ever been merely a game? She’d obeyed, yes. She’d done so willingly; she had to admit that. But she’d been ever so aroused, felt ever so submissive.

Why had she wanted to please Anne so badly? She sure as hell didn’t want to please her now. She was almost twice her age, and a woman. Red wasn’t into women, why did she respond as she had? Oh sure, objectively, Anne wasn’t unattractive. But it was hardly as if she was the most stunning creature Red had ever set eyes on, with an animal magnetism second only to Henry Cavill. No, Red knew she wouldn’t have given Anne a second look.

So why had she given her a second, third and fourth look? Obeyed her, so completely?

Red shuddered with the memory of willing bending before Anne, her robe rising high over her ass, revealing herself in the most intimate and obscene of ways, Anne’s hand caressing her skin. She’d wanted to move, but hadn’t. Yet it had aroused her, in spite of herself. Hell, the memory was arousing her now… or maybe that was just the vibe Anne had left inside her.

It was so hard to think, dammit!

What had Anne said, after she’d had her bend over? “Stay like that for me,” or something similar. And Red had done so. She’d been unable to move.

But no, that was impossible.

With a sense of dread, she remembered kneeling before the sofa, John approaching. Wanting to crawl to him and being unable to do so. “You are not to move unless I expressly permit it.”

Red shuddered with horror. Once, was perhaps arousal and submission. Twice, a misremembered coincidence. But three times? Three separate occasions where she’d been physically incapable of moving, merely off Anne’s words?

And then the twirl, before the UPS man. Hadn’t her body responded of its own volition?

It was too much to rationalise, and yet the evidence was right before her – as blatant as her complete inability to grasp a light-weight cushion and pull it from beneath her hips.

Red took another shuddering breath. It would have been so much easier to think through all that had happened if that damn vibe wasn’t buzzing inside her, sending jolts of unwanted pleasure through her overly-sensitive body.

She whimpered despite herself. Damn, but that vibe feels good. How bad would it be to just take a moment to enjoy it?

Red gritted her teeth. No. She mustn’t let herself be distracted. She had to figure this out.

What else could she remember? Why could she remember so little? Why was it so hard to remember? It wasn’t just the vibe inside her, distracting her with pleasurable tremors, her sex clenching around it, her nipples tight, her eyes closing in bliss… No, dammit! Red bit her tongue to distract from the sensations.

“Don’t forget… this bedroom is a most exciting place now. Whenever you are in here, whether by yourself or not, as the case may be, you will realise how beautiful it is, how erotic the possibilities, how sensual a creature you are…”

Oh no. Oh no, please, it couldn’t be. No, that was too much to accept. Surely, a mere turn of phrase? Could those words from Anne possibly have had the same power of influence as her commands for Red to hold still, or to twirl?

It was the hardest thing Red had ever done to recall other things Anne had said to her. Each memory, each recollection, seemed an insubstantial wisp, hidden in the fog of her mind. And even that didn’t seem right; was it really so difficult to remember what someone has said?

Anne had asked her to remove her kimono; she remembered that. She’d done it too, willingly. Why had she done it? Anne had told her to lie down, and that too she had willingly done. But then she hadn’t tried to resist, so maybe she’d wanted to.

Oh, but it was so confusing! So difficult to understand where her desires stopped, and Anne’s had taken over!

Yet, Red had come to realise the truth: that Anne had been compelling her, controlling her, as incredible as it seemed.

And in that moment another memory surfaced: a shocking, alarming, terrifying memory: “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, Red. There is a degree of compulsion in what I do – quite a large degree, actually. I could have you merely submit, in every single way, but where would the fun be in that?”

It hadn’t made an impact on Red at the time. It did now. Why hadn’t it made an impact? And then Red remembered: because Anne had, but a moment before, told her she could watch through the mirrors, and so shocked had Red been by this revelation that perhaps it had suppressed her recollection of what had followed.

Maybe the surprise of that revelation now allowed her to retain it with clarity, but she was sure there was more lost in the fog of her mind. Red closed her eyes as she fought to focus. She could remember all that had happened without issue, except for some of what Anne had said to her. Many of her memories of what Anne had said seemed obfuscated, each requiring an effort to recall. Some of the other memories had been confused with her own sense of arousal; maybe that was why... she couldn’t easily discern what Anne had said when it so closely matched Red’s own latent desires. To expose herself, which Red had to admit was arousing. To hold still, under the eyes of a lustful man, feeding her own sense of shame, vulnerability and helplessness… and arousal. Lying naked on the bed, touching herself before Anne… “how sensual a creature you are…”

Yet this seemed a poor excuse for the effort it took to remember what had happened. Was Anne somehow affecting her mind? Comments, remarks, she could remember… no, it was just Anne’s instructions that seemed to elude her grasp… “there is a degree of compulsion…”

Her pulse was racing, her skin covered in a sheen of perspiration, as much from terror as the levels of arousal that still persisted within her, and all along the hellacious vibe buzzing in her sex, a constant reminder of Anne’s perverted control over her.

Alright. So. Anne could control her. Incredible – impossible, even – but she could no longer deny it was true.

“Can you make me do things, Anne?”

“What do you think, dear girl?”

And Red had persuaded herself that Anne could not. Oh, how delicious must Anne have found that moment!

Yet if she could now recall the compulsions Anne had placed upon her, could she not fight them? Perhaps, if she focused enough, she could resist… yet still she could not bring herself to move her hand to grasp the pillow and pull it free. Such a simple task, yet beyond her.

And in that moment Red made herself a promise: she would find Anne and make her stop all that she was doing. Whatever it took. However long it took.

But first, she had to escape.

Red glanced at the phone Anne had left for her. Could she risk it? Could she trust Alfie?

There was no answer to that: she didn’t know him from Adam.

But surely her father only set her up with gentlemen. Perhaps she could trust him after all.

Gentlemen like Steven? the voice inside her head reminded her, and again she shuddered.

Yet in Steven’s defence, he hadn’t forced himself upon her – no, as much as anything, it had been the other way around. Red had turned up in crotchless panties and a dress so short she could’ve legitimately claimed it was a crop top. She’d spread her knees for him, said nothing when he’d touched her. Later, in the bedroom, she’d played with herself before him and then pulled his cock out and devoured it.

She shivered as she recollected the hunger and desire she’d felt. The unbelievably heady taste of his wonderful, delicious cum in her mouth… so divine, so sensual, so...

Red gritted her teeth and dug her nails into her palms, fighting to resist her own desires to submit to the sensuality that Anne had forced upon her. No, Steven was not to blame for what had happened; that was all on Red, but it was the mirror – the mirror had made her do it.

“Can… can the mirror make me do things?” she’d asked Anne.

“Make you do things?” Anne had replied, “How would it do that? As I said earlier… it reflects only what is within you.”

But that wasn’t true either, was it? Another of Anne’s lies. And yet, for all that, a half-truth, for much of what Red had done she had, ultimately, at least at some level, been willing to do.

Perhaps she deserved the predicament she now found herself in. Perhaps, if she was honest with herself… maybe she was the slut the mirror showed her to be.

A flash of movement caught her eye. The screen of Anne’s phone was flashing… no, it was the bar in the corner. Battery: and it was almost gone.

Oh no. Oh no. She wasn’t ready. She hadn’t decided! But, if she didn’t call… what would happen?

She imagined herself lying on her bed, unable to move, her cries unable to be heard through the thick walls of her luxurious apartment, as she grew weaker and weaker over time, a day, two… would Anne return? She was the only one who knew Red was here, and she never had other visitors.

Her trembling hand picked up the phone, saw the number already on the display. Closing her eyes in dread, she pushed the call button.

A moment to swallow, her throat dry and constricted, and the line began to ring.

What would she say? She hadn’t taken the time to think about it, so preoccupied had she been with trying to understand what Anne had done to her.

The line rang on, and she began to panic. What if he didn’t answer? What if he answered and then the battery died?

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank god. Alfie?”

“Yes. Who is this?”

“Er… it’s… er… Red.”

“Who?”

“Red. It’s… Jamie Sinclair.”

A long pause on the other end of the line. “Jamie Sinclair?” his tone was intrigued, curious.

“Alfie, I don’t have long, and I… I… need your help.”

“What’s the matter?” he sounded more serious, which was reassuring. Perhaps he would be responsible. Perhaps he could be trusted after all.

“I… I need you to come over to my apartment.”

“You what?”

“Um… please could you come over to my apartment. Um… now. Please. Quickly.”

“Why?”

“I…” it was so difficult. What the hell was she supposed to say? “I… just need your help. Please come. I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Look, Jamie, it’s… a quarter past seven, and I have a date tonight. Can’t this wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“No!” Red closed her eyes in anguish: the thought of having to lie here all night, unable to move in any way, the vibe tormenting her until the battery ran out. “Please, Alfie, please. I know you don’t know me very well, but please. You’re the only person I can… you’re my only chance. Please.”

“Oh… very well. I’ll come,” his reluctance obvious, “But this had better be important - and you owe me.”

“Thank you, Alfie, thank you!”

“I don’t know where you live.”

She closed her eyes, committed. “116 Central Park South. Apartment 34a.”

Another long silence; she almost checked the phone hadn’t died before he responded, “Of course you do. Figures. Very well… about 30 minutes, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Alfie, I am so grateful! The concierge will…” one moment the line was there, the next it was not; the complete silence obvious in its contrast. The screen showed nothing; the phone was dead.

Red exhaled slowly, laying down the phone on the bed. She’d just asked a man she didn’t know to come to her apartment while she was nude, bound, and unable to move.

Dear god, what had she done? She’d done the only thing she could.

Damn Anne! Damn Anne and her evil, manipulative… Red chewed her lip nervously. The vibe continued to buzz within her. What would Alfie do when he found her? She was so helpless, so vulnerable, so… achingly… wet…

*

Alfie stepped out of the cab and glanced up at the building before him. He shook his head. Stupid prissy little rich bitch, wasting his time on some fool errand. She probably couldn’t open a jam jar or something. Some emergency.

There was a manned front desk; no great surprise in a place like this.

“Evening. I’m a visitor for Ms. Sinclair. 34a?”

“Ahh, Mr. Tomlins. Yes, we’ve been expecting you. You may go straight up,” the concierge nodded towards the elevators. “It’s the top floor.”

Jamie must’ve called down. Perhaps that’s why she ended their call so abruptly, even though it had seemed strange at the time. In fairness, he might’ve not come if the call hadn’t dropped so alarmingly. It added a small modicum of credibility to her pleas for help.

She probably wants me to find her phone charger. He pushed the button for the 34^th floor.

The entrance to her apartment was a large, double door in some expensive dark wood. Everything about this girl reeked money: this apartment, this address, her attitude, the staggering indifference with which she’d rebuffed his advances some months prior.

He shook his head again, I must be a fool, this is a total waste of time, and pressed the bell. He heard a two-tone chime sound inside, muffled by the door and the thick walls of her apartment.

Alfie waited impatiently, checking his watch. He’d told his date he’d be a bit late; pushed back the table with the restaurant (they hadn’t been happy about that), and now she was keeping him waiting. Some emergency. He pushed the bell again, then knocked hard on the door for added measure.

The door drifted slightly open under the impact, as though it hadn’t been on the latch. That was odd.

He pushed it further ajar, seeing into her apartment: spacious, cream, soft lighting.

“Jamie?”

“Oh Alfie, thank god!” he heard her voice and stepped in. “I’m in here!”

He frowned. She couldn’t even be bothered to meet him at the door – and yet her tone was off, the note of desperation unmistakable. Something very strange was going on. He stepped in, pushing the door to behind him.

“Where are you?” he said, projecting his voice slightly to fill the quiet of her nauseatingly enormous apartment. His eyes glanced quickly around: black sofas, unused kitchen, a disconnected chandelier lying apparently discarded on the floor to one side. Peculiar.

“I’m in here! I’m… I’m in the bedroom!”

Alfie felt his eyebrows climb rapidly towards his hairline, and followed the sound of her voice.

Her bedroom was to the left of the door, slightly obscured by a wall that jutted out, a large open archway marking the entrance. Through this he could see several mirrors, and it took him a good second or two to recognise what his eyes were showing him in the reflections, but by that time he’d made it to the archway anyway, and could directly see in.

Alfie stopped abruptly, stunned into immovability.

Her bedroom had mirrors everywhere, a confusing cacophony of visual imagery, but it was her ass that captured and held his gaze. She was lying on the bed naked, but that word was insufficient to describe the blatant sexuality of the position she was in. Her bottom was raised, flagrantly proffered in the most provocative of ways, her legs open, her sex prominent and conspicuously on display.

He took another step, his mind trying to process what he was seeing even as he noticed more details: the spreader bar; all the mirrors; a small table with a riding crop and a flogger; was that… a suspension hook?

Alfie ginned slowly, his eyes drawn back to her ass. Oh, and a butt plug. In red. Of course.

“Seems like you need my help after all, Ja…” the butt plug was the lewd reminder. “…Red.”

“Thank god, Alfie,” he realised she could see him as he noticed her face reflected in the mirror opposite. Her skin was flushed, her expression desperate, her hair slightly matted to her forehead with her own perspiration. “Untie me, please. My wrist…” she pulled ineffectually and he saw that her small wrist was held in a cuff, somehow affixed to her headboard.

He took another step in to her bedroom. “Well, well. You’ve had an eventful evening. Abandoned by a lover?”

He ran his fingers over the contents of the small table: the flogger and riding crop that he’d already seen; a gag, some bondage rope, a small bundle of white cable ties, and a bottle of what looked like lube that he’d only just noticed. “…Quite the party.”

“Please, will you just untie me?” her voice seemed small, vulnerable.

He picked up the riding crop, testing its rigidity between his hands, the creak of the leather loud in the quiet of her bedroom. “I’m surprised he left, whomever it was. I’m not sure I would’ve done.”

“Alfie, I… I want you to untie me,” she sounded desperate, afraid. “Now.” Ah, that was the Red he remembered. The effort to add a sense of the imperative was laughably inadequate, even without the context of her full and sexual exposure.

“Where is he, your lover? I didn’t meet him on my way up.” Alfie took a moment to glance into her bathroom, the door ajar next to one of the mirrors. He pushed it fully open with the tip of the riding crop: empty. The rest of the apartment he’d already seen. It did appear they were alone.

“There wasn’t… there isn’t anyone here.”

He turned to her in surprise and amusement, taking some paces closer towards the bed. “You mean to say you did all this yourself?”

“Um…” she was blushing furiously, he noticed now. He was taking in more details with every passing moment as his brain caught up with all the stimuli she – and the room – offered. To be fair, there was quite a lot to take in.

An ancient-looking cell lay on the sheet beside her hand. Clearly with his number in it; he hadn’t even realised she’d had it. The screen was blank, suggesting the battery was dead. Maybe that explained the abrupt ending of their call. Cuffs on her wrists and ankles, the latter securely fastened to the spreader bar. One wrist free, the other held securely by what looked like a cable tie. He glanced towards the small table, and the other cable ties.

Yes, it made sense… she could do all this herself except for securing the final wrist. Perhaps she was alone, as she’d maintained. Which meant she’d done it all for him. She’d had his number all along, evidently saving it despite her attitude on their failure of a date. Well, well. The restaurant was going to be seriously pissed when he didn’t show. His date too, for that matter.

He crossed back to the table, replacing the riding crop and picking up a single cable tie. “Let me help you with that.”

“Oh, thank you!” her gratitude was evident, her relief obvious. He lifted her free wrist by its cuff, readying the cable tie. “What are you… no! No! Stop!”

She pulled against him, stronger than he’d expected, but he had the advantage of leverage and greater strength. If this was the game she wanted to play… It took but a moment to loop the cable tie through the hoop on her cuff, pinning her wrist to the headboard while he did so, and another second to thread the cable tie and pull it taut.

“There,” he said with satisfaction, straightening back up, looking down at her fully secured. “If a job’s worth doing, as they say…”

“Alfie, please,” she sounded deliciously anxious; she really was a very good actress. “This isn’t funny. Untie me. Please.”

“I… don’t imagine I’ll be doing that.” he trailed the back of his fingers over her soft skin, his touch almost tentative, reverent, still not quite believing the situation.

“Don’t touch me,” her comment was a reflex, but she made no effort to pull away. Granted, she wasn’t going very far, but she hadn’t even tried, within the realms of freedom that were clearly available to her. What a tease.

“Doesn’t seem to me that you’re in much of a position to make demands.” he trailed his hand lower, letting it slide down towards her deliciously proffered ass. He turned it as he caressed her, wanting to feel the curve of her cheek with his palm.

“No… no, don’t do this, please,” her pleading was comical, yet the tears in her eyes seemed almost genuine, and he felt a heady sense of power.

“Your begging is a nice act, but not very convincing.” his hand continued lower, stroking her as he marvelled at the flawlessness of her skin. He’d never imagined she looked as good as this naked. His fingertips dipped into the top of her ass crack as his hand continued its exploration of her.

“No! Don’t touch me there! And… and I’d thank you to be a gentleman, and untie me!”

His fingers met the jewel of the plug inside her, and his hand stopped in surprise. “Red…” his tone half-puzzled, half-amused.

“What?” hers was angry.

“Why is your butt plug vibrating?”

She took a shuddering breath, her body trembling under his hand. “It’s not, okay? Now… for the last time, untie me!”

“Oh, but it is. I can feel it.” His fingertips closed more firmly about the red-jewel tipped base, nestled between the taut mounds of her ass cheeks. “Can’t you feel it? I would expect you could feel it, given where it is. There’s definitely a tingle. I didn’t know chrome butt plugs could…”

“I have a vibe inside my… my… vagina, okay?” She pushed her face against the bed, her whimper suddenly muffled.

He chuckled in delight. “You have a vibe in your pussy as well? My, you have pulled out all the stops.” His fingers slipped down to her sex, finding her spread open and drenched with her own excitement. It was easy – and immensely satisfying – to slip a finger inside her. She gasped at his touch, but it took him the barest of moments to ascertain the truth of what she’d said, and his finger slipped away again. “You really do, don’t you? I never knew what a little slut you were.”

He patted her ass cheek gently, wiping her moisture on her skin as he did so.

“There’s… there’s a remote… on the table. You… please… turn it off.” She seemed to be having difficulty forming coherent sentences, and her voice was breathy with arousal. He smiled to himself.

“A remote control, you say?”

“On the table.”

He glanced over, “Hmm… not there, I’m afraid.”

“It must be!”

“Well, sorry, but it isn’t.” He glanced around briefly. “Oh, look, is this it? It was on the bed by your feet.” He turned over a small, grey, plastic rectangle and saw a digital display with arrows up and down. The display showed ‘1’. “I’ve found it.”

“Thank god. Turn it off, please.”

Alfie pressed the up arrow, and the display showed ‘2’. Red twitched beside him, a whimper escaping. “No… no… off! Off!”

Alfie pushed the up arrow again. “It says 3. How many settings does it have?”

Red shuddered, her muscles tensing as she gritted her teeth. “Please, Alfie, please turn it off.” She was begging now, and he smiled again.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.” His fingers rested gently on the jewel of her plug; the tingle was certainly more noticeable.

She raised her head from the mattress and turned to look at him. Her face was flushed, her eyes glittering, her mouth slightly parted as she sucked in air, “For the love of god, please turn it off. I can’t… I can’t take any more.”

“How many settings did you say?”

“Five, okay?! It’s fucking got five! Turn it off!”

“Five, eh?” he looked down at the device in his hand. “And this is only number 3?”

He pushed the top arrow again.

“Gnnn,” Red whimpered, her jaw clenched as her head came up, her back tensing as her bottom clenched quite delightfully.

“I can hear it now,” he commented sagely. “It’s quite a powerful little thing, isn’t it? It seems size doesn’t matter after all.”

“Please, Alfie,” she gasped out the words, but it seemed to take quite some effort. “Please no more.”

“No more?” He leant down beside her, propping himself on one elbow near her head, watching her face as he pushed the top arrow again. “I told you that you’d owe me. I’m going to take what I’m due.”

“Oh! Oh!” she gasped, her body twitching, and her mouth opening as if in a silent cry.

“Yes indeed, Red. I’m due quite a lot from you. I’m going to remind you of how you were such a prissy little bitch last time we met. I had a nice date lined up for tonight, too. You’ll be making up for that while I’m here.”

He watched her for a while, a small smile playing on his lips, and let the moments crawl slowly by. Her eyes screwed tightly shut and she whimpered again, and at that moment he pressed the top arrow once more, and the ‘5’ flicked over to a ‘0’. The muffled buzzing sound that he could only vaguely hear disappeared entirely.

Red slumped against the mattress, breathing heavily, and a whimper of frustration slipped from her lips.

It was such fun to torment her that he was quite content to wait.

“Thank… thank you.”

“You think I’m done?” he replied, amused.

“Alfie, please… you’ve had your fun. And I don’t begrudge you that. But… untie me now, please.”

He pushed the up arrow, and the display clicked over to ‘1’.

“I haven’t even begun to have my fun with you, you little bitch.”

She wailed and pushed her face into the mattress. “No! Please!” her whimpers were muffled, but no less exquisite for all that.

“Since you’re not going anywhere, Red…” he tapped the end of the remote control against her bare shoulder to get her attention.

She seemed to ignore him, hiding her face, her breathing ragged.

He flicked the display up to ‘3’. Her body shuddered and he heard her gasp; it was but a moment until her head came up. “Please don’t! Please… I’m… I’m listening.”

He dropped it down to ‘2’. “Why did you call me, Red?”

“To… to help me.”

He chuckled to himself. Oh, he was going to help her alright. For a price. “But why me? Who else did you call?” Not that he begrudged her reaching out – well, not anymore – but he was genuinely curious. And it was important to know if she’d called anyone else. He didn’t want to be disturbed.

He picked up the old Nokia, examining it. Definitely dead, assuming something so old had ever worked – but obviously it had to have been the phone she’d used, given that none other was within reach. He vaguely wondered why she bothered with such an antiquated device.

“I…” she looked up at him, and he saw the fear in her eyes. “I called a friend, but she said she might be a bit longer.”

He grinned. “That wasn’t even remotely convincing. I don’t think anyone else is coming, are they?”

“They are! I… they will be here soon!”

He pushed himself up from the bed and stood. “Great, I’ll be getting back to my date then. Glad you’re all sorted.” He flicked the remote up to a ‘4’. “This should make your wait more fun.”

She moaned into the sheets, her hips twitching, but he didn’t stay to watch.

Alfie made his way back through the apartment, an easy grin on his face, dropping the phone on the small table as he passed but keeping the remote.. He knew she was lying, and she was about to confess it. And, if she wasn’t… well, he’d still have time with her.

“Wait!”

His grin widened. Oh, she was so going to pay.

“Wait! Please, Alfie… don’t go!” her words came around gasps; it appeared that ‘4’ was making it difficult for her to talk. He wondered how much longer the batteries would last.

The door wasn’t properly closed, it merely rested lightly against the jamb. He pushed it shut with one finger, and flicked the latch on. Wouldn’t want to be interrupted.

He walked back and stopped against the open archway of her bedroom, watching her hips twitch in the most delightful of ways. The view was incredible… he’d never have anticipated having the stuck-up little Jamie Sinclair so in his control. The possibilities were almost endless.

She’d noticed him in the mirror. “Please, Alfie, please… the vibe… I can’t think.”

He dropped it down to a ‘1’, if only to hear what lame-ass story she would contrive this time.

“Th… thank you,” she was gasping for breath; it took her a moment to steady herself. “I’m sorry to call you, to waste your time. I… I just wanted you to untie me. I wanted you to rescue me. To set me free.”

He shook his head, and flicked it back up to ‘3’. “Try again.”

“Stop!” her reaction was immediate. “Untie me!” she wailed, her eyes closing as she fought to repress the sensations the little vibe was obviously stirring.

He took a couple of steps towards her, watching her face in the mirror. “I’m going to make you pay, instead.”

“Fuck you.”

“Wrong answer.” He flicked the display up to ‘5’.

*

“Fuck you,” she spat at him. He was toying with her, it was obvious he wasn’t going to help her, and she was done with it.

He was such a toad of a man! She’d finally remembered him. Not immediately, of course – he hadn’t made that much of an impression last time they’d met – but his arrogant, selfish attitude, his short-man syndrome poorly hiding his insecurities, his smug demeanour, and his creepy little eyes were exactly the reminder of why she’d wanted to forget him.

“Wrong answer.”

The vibe jumped inside her, buzzing harder than before, and she screwed her eyes shut as she fought to resist the sensations.

Why had she sworn at him? That was such a stupid thing to do!

“…At first you will feel reluctance. They may have to force you, to order you or compel you; you will resist, but only so that your final capitulation is that much sweeter.”

Anne’s voice suddenly played through her memory even as her channel clenched involuntarily around the vibe deep within her. It was hard to focus, hard to think about the words, but she knew she had to resist him. Hadn’t that been what Anne had meant?

“You won’t… make me… come…” she gritted her teeth as she fought him, fought her body.

“Oh, I’m going to make you come alright,” he flicked the vibe off, and the relief was sudden and tangible. She drew a steadying breath. “…but first I’m going to make you beg for it.” The vibe started again, a slow buzz: a low setting. But she knew he would ramp it up whenever he so wished.

“Stop! Stop it, you…” she trailed off, glaring at him even as another wave of pleasure threatened to undo her.

“Yes…?” he took another step closer, looking at her expectantly. “Do go on. ‘You…?’”

“Asshole!” she couldn’t help herself. Why was she provoking him so? He held all the cards. She was playing with fire; he was playing with her.

His jaw clenched. “Asshole?” His thumb on the remote, the vibe buzzing more. And more.

Red couldn’t hold her glare, the sensations were too much. Her head fell forward, pressing into the mattress as she closed her eyes and fought for control.

“I’m going to enjoy this, Red. We could’ve just had some fun, you and I. But now… now I’m going to really enjoy this.”

“Fuck you.”

“That’s twice.” His tone was venomous, “And a surprisingly dangerous choice of insult, given our relative positions.”

She glanced up at him then, her eyes widening. “You… you wouldn’t dare! You don’t have the balls!” She couldn’t seem to control her words. It was possibly the most stupid thing she could’ve said, unless her intent was to provoke. Had this been what Anne had meant? To resist, to make the final taking of her that much sweeter? In which case…

“I wouldn’t dare?” and no longer was he attempting to hide the contempt in his tone. “You’ll be licking my balls before we’re done.”

She whimpered, her pussy clenching at his words. Why was she suddenly picturing herself on her knees before him? The mirror changed, drawing her gaze: Red, kneeling naked at his feet, her hands bound in front, lapping desperately and hungrily at his testicles, her eyes staring up at him in adoration. She shook her head, trying to push away the images.

He flicked the remote off and crossed to the table. She’d have felt relieved if she wasn’t anxious about what he might do next.

“You’re a rude, disrespectful and haughty girl, Red.” He’d picked up the riding crop again, examining it carefully with his back to her, but she could still see his profile reflected in the mirrors. “Do you know what happens to rude, disrespectful and haughty girls that don’t know their place?”

Red swallowed nervously. She wanted to apologise, to explain it wasn’t her doing, that Anne was making her say these things. But no words would come.

He turned to look at her, flexing the crop in his hands. “You’ve only got yourself to blame for this.”

“Only small men hit women.” Again the words slipped out; she might have been thinking it, but she most certainly never intended to say it.

His lips tightened. “You’re just begging for it, aren’t you?”

She watched him past the curve of her own arm, stretched taut and held immobile by the cuff on her headboard. Never in her life had she felt as vulnerable as she did now.

He took a threatening step forward, “And still you lie there, glaring at me.” Glaring? She wasn’t glaring! She… her eyes flicked to the mirror, her reflection showing her anger, her defiance. But she wasn’t angry or defiant, she was scared! Why was her reflection showing something different? Oh… oh no. The mirror was making her… and he was seeing it too. “You don’t learn, do you?”

He took a step closer, flexing the crop as he came. “You deserve this, Red. A little reminder of your place.” The expression on his face made her quail inside. He let the tip of the crop fall lightly against her raised ass.

“Please…” she’d found her words. One word, anyway.

“It’s too late for ‘please’, Red, but you’ll get your chance to beg.” His arm swung back and she desperately tried to tell him she was sorry, but again the words wouldn’t come. Then the crop landed and she could only gasp with the sting. He hadn’t even hit her that hard.

“A shame to mar such a beautiful behind, but…” again the crop cracked down, and this time it was harder. Red tried to stifle her cry, but still it slipped out. “You know what they say. Spare the rod, spoil the… already-spoilt girl.” A third strike, this time hard across both cheeks. Again Red cried out at the pain. She wanted to beg him to stop, but Anne’s words – or the mirror – was preventing her.

Anne was watching, she knew with sudden certainty. She was watching Alfie take out his frustrations on her ass, his pent-up fury at her rebuff when they’d first met, his anger at being provoked by her now. His misogyny, his insecurities – she’d goaded him in the worst of ways. The crop cracked down again and again, and each time Red jerked against her bonds, a cry pulled from her lips.

“It seems I was wrong. Your ass looks even better now.” And the vibe started up inside her again, rapidly accelerating. Not a low setting.

Again Red tried to beg, and again her words were refused her. The crop landed across her ass, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a combination that was overwhelming; she could only cry out, repeatedly, as he took out his ire on her vulnerable bottom. Never before had she been so mistreated; never before has she been so helpless.

A half-dozen more strokes, and he ramped the vibe up to the next level. She whimpered; her ass on fire, her sex throbbing, suffering and joy, anguish and rapture.

“Please…” she begged him, but it came out as little more than a whimper.

“You can beg better than that.” The crop came down again; he was panting with exertion now.

“I’m sorry, Alfie, please! I will behave, I promise!” she cried out. Thank god she could speak again.

The vibe slowed but did not still. He drew level with her head and dropped into a crouch so that he could look directly into her eyes. “I enjoyed that. Did you?”

No. “Yes.” Goddammit, mirror! She wanted to yell, to scream, but she couldn’t. And… well… maybe she had enjoyed it too, at some level. Her ass was in agony, yes, but… she’d deserved it. She looked up at him, towering over her. She’d insulted him, goaded him, sworn at him, and he’d asserted his male superiority over her. Her pussy throbbed again. She’d deserved it, but moreover the thought of his dominance was exciting her. She blushed with shame, lowering her eyes.

“My, so demure. Have you so quickly learnt your lesson?”

Another memory came to her: “…but as time passes, you will grow more compliant, more responsive to their desires.”

No… no, surely not that. She still wanted to resist him, didn’t she? She would hold on to that feeling of resistance. She would not give in to this small, misogynistic man. She wouldn’t become the willing, compliant slut she had been for Steven. For Anne. For the shopkeeper. Not for Alfie. Please, not for him.

Red felt a wave of shame at who she had become. Yes, she had been compelled and controlled, but secretly, deep down, she had enjoyed every moment of it. She’d loved being a slut; a helpless, vulnerable, willing slut.

“…how sensual a creature you are…”

"The mirror shows only what is already inside you, is that not true?”

She could no longer tell what was forced and what came from her; what perhaps had always been inside her. Maybe the lines were too blurred, the overlap too great. Maybe she was still the innocent girl she’d always been, and she would never have done any of this if it wasn’t for the mirror’s corruption.

“I’m ready for you to show me how sorry you are. I will untie you. I think you’re ready to behave now, aren’t you?”

She couldn’t help but answer him. “Yes, Alfie.”

He smirked. “Funny how a riding crop has that effect on a woman.”

His words drew her attention back to her ass, which burned and stung from the crop. She wondered how it looked… but she didn’t need to wonder. She glanced past him at the mirrors, her reflection bounced from the elevated mirror above her bed, clearly showing the redness of her ass with several stripes visible across both cheeks.

It seemed to suit the overall look: a girl held immobile, bound to her own bed with her ass raised invitingly, now adorned with the punishment Alfie had seen fit to mete out. She saw herself for what she really was: a slut, a sensual little slut, that had been disrespectful to a man. She’d deserved it.

No… no! That’s the mirror talking! Anne’s influence! But was it, though? Which part wasn’t true?

He pressed the remote and the vibe ceased its incessant buzzing. She sighed with relief.

“Where are the scissors?”

Red blinked, the question confusing her. “Scissors?”

“For the cable ties.”

“Oh. Can’t you just… snap them?”

He laughed scornfully. “You’re dumb, aren’t you? I can try. Which wrist don’t you mind being broken?”

“Um… I don’t know if I have any scissors.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know if you have scissors? Can the sheltered life of the very rich and extremely spoiled girl possibly be any more surreal?”

She knew he was taunting her, but again she couldn’t deny the validity of his words. A lot of Red’s life had come under the microscope in the preceding 48 hours, and she wasn’t sure she liked all that it showed.

“Maybe in the kitchen,” she muttered.

He went to look, his footsteps quickly muffled by the thick carpet, but was gone only a few brief moments.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this view,” she heard him say when he returned, and the words were punctuated by the audible click of his camera phone. Once, twice… many. “Little Jamie Sinclair, properly chastised.”

She closed her eyes as he captured, for posterity, her exposure and vulnerability, her reddened ass, decorated with the stripes of his own contribution. Steven. Anne. Alfie. It seemed everyone was an amateur photographer.

“Look at me, Red,” he raised the phone, ready to capture her expression as a counterpoint to the obscene exposure of her raised, welted ass. “And if you glare at me again, I’ll switch to the flogger.”

She turned her head, peering at him over her arm, held taut and immobile by her secured wrists. Please, mirror, please don’t provoke him anymore!

He sneered as he took his pictures. “So submissive now. That look suits you.”

“Did you… did you find scissors?”

“No scissors, a knife. Are you so keen to get your hands on me?”

“Yes.” Red blinked. Where had that come from?

He seemed to pause with surprise, then his smile widened. He slipped the blade through each cable tie in turn, and her wrists were free.

It was a relief to ease the tension in her arms; she hadn’t realised how stiff they’d been until she moved them. At least now she was free, and all she had to do was somehow appease Alfie.

She should move. She tried to move. “…you are not to attempt to move from your current position until given permission to do so.”

He’d placed the knife out of the way on the small table and was watching her, curious, as though expecting that she’d have moved. Maybe he’d tell her to move if she waited.

“Don’t you want to get up?”

She winced. “I… I can’t move.”

“Sure you can.”

“No, I mean… you have to tell me to.” She blushed with embarrassment as the she realised how that sounded.

His grin was back, wider. “Learnt your place, have you?”

“No, I…”

“Ready to obey?”

“That’s not what I…”

“Be quiet.” His tone carried a commanding note she hadn’t heard from him before. She hushed, a shiver running through her.

“The longer you are with someone here, the greater will be your desire to please them, until there will be nothing you want more than their happiness, and nothing you won’t be willing to do to achieve it.”

Had she fallen silent because of Anne’s promise she’d eventually be willing to please, or because she didn’t want to give him an excuse to get the riding crop out again? Or nothing so Machiavellian - merely her submission and arousal warring within her. She felt trapped in her own body, deceived by her own emotions, no longer able to tell where she ended and Anne’s Red began.

It would’ve been so much easier if she’d hated it all.

She felt his hand on her ass stroking gently across one cheek; his palm was a soothing presence, a sexual presumption, and a reminder of the soreness. Now even such a thing as a simple touch had layers; why couldn’t life be simple?

Yet she couldn’t help but admit there was a simplicity in submission, and the desire to please. It suited her, and she wasn’t even convinced that was the mirror’s influence, or Anne’s control.

“…how sensual a creature you are…”

Anne’s words came back to her again; an instruction or an observation?

His hand slid lower, three fingers rubbing against her exposed vulva. “Such a wet little slut. I really think you enjoyed your punishment! What a sensual creature you are.”

She jolted. Were his choice of words merely a coincidence? It was possible, though hard to believe. She said nothing: he’d told her to be quiet.

A finger slipped inside, another joined it. “Hmm, I think this is done. Shame, I was enjoying the power.” He hooked out the vibe from within her with one finger, as though penetrating the body of a girl he’d known for less than an hour was perfectly normal behaviour.

“And this too,” he was unhooking the spreader bar from her ankle cuffs. “It’s in my way. But if you don’t obey me, Red, you know what will happen.”

“I will obey,” the words slipped out without consciously passing through her brain. So, she’d reached that part: full compliance. She closed her eyes in resignation. And she knew what would happen, in part at least; the mirror had forewarned her.

He’d removed the spreader bar now. She lay across the wedge pillow, her sore, reddened ass still lifted in offering, awaiting his commands. She felt her pulse accelerate in anticipation, her breaths becoming shorter, her arousal increasing. Just the thought of obeying him sent a shiver of pleasure through her core.

Was that her, or the subliminal compulsion Anne had installed? She didn’t know. She couldn’t tell. Perhaps it didn’t matter… so long as she was able to please him.

He was crossing to the small table. “Get on the floor, on your knees. I’m going to teach you your next lesson, Red.”

She moved quickly, kneeling beside the bed almost before he’d finished speaking, so desperate for him to find her pleasing. She kept her back straight, her posture perfect, her hands resting lightly on her thighs, making no attempt to cover her nudity. Her ass stung where it rested upon her heels, and she tried not to wince lest it displease him. But he wasn’t even watching, he was selecting a bundle of the jute rope from the table of toys.

He turned to her then, the rope in his hands, and a hungry grin spread across his face. “Well, well. Looks like you are ready to behave.” He walked towards her. “Hands out, wrists together.”

She was eager to comply; her hands lifted as he’d asked. The look in his eyes made her sex clench, and she chewed her bottom lip nervously.

He slipped rope through the rings of each cuff, pulling her wrists together tightly then binding them with tight loops. He tied a knot when he was done; the end result was amateurish and inelegant, but she knew herself held securely.

He pulled off his suit jacket and threw it over the chair beside the small table. “What was it you said to me earlier?” He began to unbutton his shirt.

Red’s brow furrowed as she wondered which part he was referring to. She didn’t want to remind him that she’d called him an asshole, and it was a mercy that the mirror wasn’t making her. At least she’d got past the ‘resistance’ stage.

He unfastened his suit pants and pulled down the zipper, showing black boxers below. “After you’d said that I ‘wouldn’t dare’ fuck you.” He was reminding her.

Her eyes were watching his hands, and her tongue came out to moisten her lips. She squirmed uncomfortably, her ass sore against her heels. She didn’t want to risk upsetting him, but he had asked. “I… I said you didn’t have the balls…” her voice was small.

“And I said?”

“That… that you’d make me lick them.”

He toed off his dress shoes and stepped from them, closing the space between them. “You’re going to behave, aren’t you, Red?”

“Yes, Alfie,” her sex clenched again and her breath caught in her throat. She wanted to obey him so much.

He loomed over her, mere inches away, and it thrilled her to have to look up at him. It emphasised her submission, and she loved it. “I’m going to make you show me how sorry you are, or I’ll pin you down on that bed and use the flogger on you.”

“I’m so sorry, Alfie,” she felt tears in her eyes at the thought of all the ways she’d insulted him, and was desperate to make it up to him.

He pushed his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh, and his cock sprang free. “Show me. No hands, just your mouth, while on your knees. Learning your place.” Some part of Red found his tone to be petty and spiteful, far from the dominance that Steven had shown, but it didn’t matter because he’d given her an instruction, and her need to respond was everything.

“Yes, thank you, Alfie,” she breathed as she edged forward on her knees, grateful to have the chance to prove her remorse, eager to please.

He was semi-hard and his cock hung down, partially obscuring her goal. Denied the permission to use her hands, she lowered her face beneath his manhood and nudged it up with her nose, balancing it across her face, the tip wet with his pre-cum, smearing across her cheek. Her tongue reached out, eager to taste his skin, and she lapped at his testicles while she whimpered her pleasure.

“That’s it, Red,” he hissed, “I always knew you were such a submissive little slut.”

Red edged closer on her knees, the sting from her bottom reminding her of her earlier infractions, but adding complementary sensations to her intense arousal, stimulating her body. He was fully hard now, and his cock bounced against her face as she sought to lick all around his testicles.

“Never would I have thought to see prim and proper Jamie Sinclair naked on her knees before me, eagerly giving my balls a tongue-bath. You enjoying this, girl?”

Her licking paused only long enough for a murmured ‘Yes’, and she looked up at him with adoration as she continued to lick as best as she could.

“Are you getting off on it?” his tone held a note of surprise.

“Yes,” she blushed, but resumed her licking.

“Unbelievable,” and it was almost a mutter to himself. “You like being humiliated?”

Red hesitated; she wasn’t sure she did like being humiliated. Oh, it was often arousing, in a sexually degrading way… it made her feel submissive, which she liked. But humiliation itself? Yet she wanted to provide an answer that pleased him, and the thought of lying never occurred to her. “I like doing anything you tell me to.”

She was pleased with her answer and mmm’d against him as she licked his testicles more. His scrotum was slick with her saliva, and the feel of his balls moving under her tongue delighted her. She loved the hardness of his cock against her face, evidence of his pleasure in her.

“Such a slut,” he said, and his hands came down to slide into her hair. “Open up, slut.”

She opened willingly, eager to have him in her mouth, and moaned with pleasure as he pushed himself past her lips.

He wasn’t as large as Steven, she immediately thought, which was a blessing as his hips thrust forward and his hands pulled her into him by the convenient handle of her hair. She sucked and licked willingly, eager to please… even as her brow furrowed in confusion. Why was she so willing to suck him, to lick him, to serve?

“The longer you are with someone here, the greater will be your desire to please…” and yet she was questioning it. Questioning, yes… but as her tongue licked eagerly at him, she was still obeying his desires.

He thrust rapidly against her mouth, intent on his own pleasure, and Red felt her own arousal grow even deeper as he used her. Her nipples tightened almost painfully, longing for his touch; her sex ached to be filled by him. And all the while her mind fought to understand, to reassert itself. Did she want this? Was she really just a slut to be used as he wished?

He pulled out from between her lips and both gasped: him with his exertion, her for the air that had been denied.

In the mirror beside him, Red saw her reflection – nude, hands bound, mouth open – but it was her expression that captivated her: she saw lust in her own image, her face up-turned towards Alfie as though begging for more. Was it the mirror playing tricks again, or a true reflection of Red’s carnal desires? Oh, it was so difficult to know! Yet it felt so right to kneel naked before him, to crave his touch, his cock.

“Your mouth is unbelievable,” he muttered, as if half to himself, “so willing, so wet…”

His hand tightened in her hair and again he thrust past her lips, this time holding her face against his groin as he groaned with the pleasure of her mouth around him.

“God… I’ve got to fuck you,” he pushed her away. “Get on the bed.”

She was eager to obey; whether it was the mirror, Anne’s compulsion or her own desires, it mattered not: she was so painfully aroused she was desperate to do as he wished. At some level her mind argued that even the extent of her sexual excitement was a product of the compulsions upon her, and maybe that was true, but she could not deny that some of it came from her own desires, and to that her mind had no reply.

Her bound hands made the task of getting to the bed an ungainly one, and as she crawled awkwardly towards on it on her knees, beside her Alfie was watching her even as he pulled off the remainder of his clothes.

“No, no, wait,” she paused, looking toward him. “I want you on top… yes… I want you to show me how eager you are, by fucking me yourself.” He lay down on the bed and looked back at her. “Yes… perfect… crawl up here while I watch you, Jamie Sinclair, eager to sit on my cock.”

Even through her arousal Red blushed at the humiliation he was enacting upon her. She continued her inelegant advance, the side of the bed offering some support as at last she reached it. If she was so eager to please him, she wondered, why did the humiliation matter? Yet this thought did nothing to stop her mounting the bed next to him, her eyes fixed on his naked form.

“That look in your eyes…” his voice held surprise, if not awe. “I would never have thought you would be so hungry…”

Red spared a glance towards a convenient mirror – she had many to choose from. Her face showed her lust, her enthusiasm, her eagerness to please. This was what Alfie had seen; was it real, or an illusion from the mirror? Did it make a difference?

“Sit on me, slut. Impale yourself on me.”

She carefully balanced her weight beside him and swung her knee wide across his hips. It proved too difficult and she toppled slightly, catching herself on him with her bound hands on his chest. There was no reaction; his eyes were between her spread legs, his hands raising to grasp her hips.

“Fuck that’s hot,” and again it was as if he wasn’t talking to her, as if she was merely an object in his fantasies. “Put me inside you. Use your hands. I want to watch you take me into your body.”

Red chewed on her lower lip as she took him in her bound hands, lifting her hips over him to position the tip of his hard cock against her sex, her folds spread open by the wideness of her knees astride him. Carefully she lowered, a whimper escaping her lips as she felt him push into her, penetrate her, and the pleasure of at last having him inside her made her shudder.

“Yes…” he moaned, “…all the way.”

She sat down on him slowly, his cock sliding deeper with every movement, until her ass came to rest on his groin, his manhood fully embedded within her. She gasped again from the contact of his hips against her sore bottom, but his eyes were so enraptured as he watched her display that perhaps he thought the noise she’d made was one of pleasure.

“God, you’re so tight with that plug inside you. It feels amazing. Fuck me now, fuck yourself on me. Show me how much you want me.”

Red began to move against him, whimpering with the feeling of him inside her juxtaposed with the burning sting against her raw, cropped ass every time she ground against him. She supported herself with her hands on his chest, trying to lift herself a little, to stop short, but he simply clenched tightly on her hips and drove up into her. Red gasped at the pain, but again his eyes simply fired with lust and he began to thrust harder, faster, pulling her down onto him as he did. She didn’t know if he was enjoying her discomfort or simply focused on his own needs – but it was not as if he was the only one taking pleasure. He didn’t stretch her as much as Steven had, didn’t fill her as satisfyingly, but the pleasure was still greater than anything she’d experienced before, and if the mirror was to blame for that… well… perhaps it wasn’t all bad.

“I fucking love this mirror above your bed.” His hips slapped into her repeatedly and he groaned beneath her. “And all the other ones,” he grunted. “Inspired.” His hands came up to her breasts, groping, squeezing, and his fingers found her nipples and twisted roughly. Red cried out, the discomfort feeding her submission, her arousal, and her pussy clenched involuntarily around him.

“Ahh, fuck!” he gasped, pushing his head back against the mattress, but his hands didn’t leave her breasts and again he twisted her aching nipples.

Red was whimpering now, feeling her orgasm beginning to build, pain and pleasure stimulating her from too many sources, blending together in a world of sensation. She desperately wanted to cum, to have her release, and that was the overriding desire as she moved in sync with him as he thrust up against her.

“Oh god… slow down…” he gasped, his eyes rolling up in his head, “I’m going to…”

Quickly she stopped, clenching around him, trying to stop his orgasm from coming too soon – she wasn’t ready, dammit! The least he could do after all this…

“Ahh!” he cried as his cock twitch inside her, and she felt his seed spurting into her. “Ahh!” again, almost a high-pitched squeak, and his body shuddered beneath her.

Red felt a moment of dismay, disappointed that… and her orgasm tore through her, her body clenching almost painfully tight as her world exploded in pleasure. She cried out as she came, an exultant, involuntary exclamation, her eyes screwed shut against the waves of her climax crashing over her again and again, each larger and more intense than the last.

Unable to hold herself up she fell forward onto his chest, her body still shuddering in after-tremors, each almost as fulfilling as orgasms she’d experienced before. He softened and slipped from inside her and she almost didn’t notice, lost in the depths of the ecstasy she’d experienced.

“Well there’s no need to ask if you came,” he muttered dryly, making no attempt to hide his envy.

It took her some moments to catch her breath, her limbs shaky and her body trembling slightly. It had been so unbelievably intense that her first thought was: What the fuck was that? Alfie just wasn’t… to be fair… that good a lay.

“When they are satisfied, your reward will be great.” The memory came back to her in that instant, as had the other memories when triggered by circumstance, and Red smiled.

“This was supposed to be about my pleasure,” he said petulantly, pushing her off him to fall to the bed beside. “I can’t believe you came that hard. You really are a slut, Red.”

His eyes glinted in the light, and his hand shot quickly to her hair, his fist closing tightly and painfully in her maroon locks. “Sluts like you must just love cum,” he pulled her head forward and down, and Red had no choice but to follow, whimpering from the pain in her scalp. He positioned her head over his groin. “Lick me clean, slut. Get all of it.”

His cock was coated in the combined juices of their fucking, and he pushed her face down onto it. But Red was already closing her eyes, her mouth opening, her tongue eagerly coming out, smelling the heady scent of his cum, and desperate to taste. She licked him rapidly, hungry to find every drop of his essence, shivering with pleasure as again she was able to taste a man’s cum, an addiction that had overwhelmed her since the shopkeeper in the dressing room. She no longer questioned that before she hadn’t wanted it anywhere near her mouth; now it was as necessary as breath and life.

She moaned over him as her tongue cleaned him, even taking his soft cock into her mouth to squeeze the last drops from him with her lips, then licking like a thirsty kitten all around to ensure none had been missed.

“You’re absolutely fucking incredible,” he said, his tone half in awe and half-scathing. “I don’t know whether to be disgusted or impressed.” He pulled her head from him by her hair, once more pushing her away. “Everything I do to humiliate you and you just lap it up and beg for more.”

Alfie shook his head. “Dammit, I meant to make you beg to cum.” He glowered at her. “This was supposed to be a punishment…” and once more it was a mutter almost to himself. His eyes ran over her, taking in her just-fucked nakedness with a look of wonder, but his gaze stopped as it came to rest between her legs. His expression turned spiteful, “If you like my cum so much, why don’t you feed it to yourself?”

Red couldn’t believe she’d forgotten the cum still inside her, and her hands dipped between her legs eagerly. She lifted slick fingers to her lips, licking and sucking them clean with a satisfied mmm and went back for more.

Alfie watched for a moment in amazement, then shook his head and pushed himself up and off the bed. He got dressed slowly, watching as Red continued to clean herself, checking that she had found every remnant that he had deposited within her.

“There’s a knife on the table. I’m guessing you can free yourself.” He shrugged on his suit jacket. “I’d threaten you with the pictures I have of you, but something tells me you’ll just be gagging for me to come back.” He pulled out his phone and handed it to her. “Put your number in this.”

Red took the phone, her fingers still sticky from their combined juices, and entered her number in. It didn’t even occur to her to enter a false number until after she’d handed it back – the compulsion was clearly still in effect.

“I’ll be back, Red, you can count on it.” He glanced down at the phone and pressed a button. “Now I know what a slut you are…” Somewhere in the apartment Red’s phone began to buzz, loud enough to be heard even with the ringtone off. Alfie pressed his phone again and the buzzing stopped. That could’ve been awkward, Red thought, relieved she hadn’t tried to trick him.

He seemed to freeze for a moment, then one eyebrow raised as he glanced from the dead Nokia on the table then towards the sound where the vibration had been heard. Then he shrugged. “Weird.”

Alfie ran his eyes over her nakedness and shook his head in admiration. “You are odd, Jamie Sinclair. But I’ll definitely be back.” He turned and walked from the apartment, and Red heard the door close behind him with a click of the latch engaging.

She fell back onto the bed, her gaze drawn to the mirror above her, the image of a nude, bound but happy girl shown beneath. Her ass hurt, and some of the things she’d done would make her quail when she considered them later… but she couldn’t deny that she was satisfied, fulfilled and replete.

She watched herself a while, her breath gradually steadying, her pulse slowing. The mirrors certainly added to the intensity of the sex, the many angles from which…

Her eyes widened. Anne. She’d been watching all of this.

Red pushed herself up, wriggling with bound hands to the edge of the bed and standing slowly on shaky legs. She could see the knife on the table. It took some moments to figure out how to hold it to apply enough pressure to cut without risking injuring herself, but the rope parted eventually and her wrists came free. There was no key for the cuffs, but she found it out on the coffee table and removed them too.

She was suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of exhaustion. What time was it even? She glanced at the clock, surprised to see it wasn’t even ten. It felt so much later… but it had been a hell of a day. She collected her kimono from the floor back in her bedroom and pulled it on, watching herself in the mirrors.

Those mirrors. Those damn mirrors. Turning, she made her way to the kitchen, her jaw set firmly. Something heavy, something strong. She looked through the drawers, not even sure what she had. A rolling pin. Perfect. It wasn’t like there was a risk of getting glass shards in her dough – she didn’t know how to make dough.

She walked back into the bedroom, the rolling pin held in both hands. Her image bounced around the room; the beautiful silk kimono, her long, tousled, maroon hair, the rolling pin in her hands. Why was she holding a rolling pin? That was weird. She put it down on the table, frowned at it in confusion, then shrugged dismissively.

What was she doing? She couldn’t remember. So tired. And hungry too. She needed to find some food and then get some rest. Tomorrow would be better.

She looked at the bed, stripped of the duvet and pillows, the sheets showing damp spots here and there. Maybe she’d sleep on the sofa, away from all the mirrors, away from Anne’s watchful gaze. There was no way she was going to sleep in her bedroom, knowing that Anne might be watching. The thought sent a shiver down her back… and then all the mirrors showed her slumbering, peacefully, nude beneath the sheet half-covering her as she wrapped herself in the comforting scent of sex, and a sense of calm descended. She was being silly; surely it would be fine.

She turned away, realising how hungry she was. She had nothing in her fridge; she existed solely on take out but the thought of another delivery man coming was… she smiled mischievously.

It took her some time to find her phone.

“Up Thai? Yes… delivery please,” she paused, “Yes, that’s the address. Er.. Massaman curry, white rice… tom kha soup…” damn, she was hungry. “Er… duck pancakes. Yes. Hm? Oh, beef.”

She ended the call; thirty minutes to wait.

She’d eat and go to bed, and tomorrow… Would Anne return tomorrow? It seemed likely, and her brow furrowed. Could this keep happening? How could she stop it?

Red thought hard, chewing her lip, then dialled another number.

“Daddy?” with a start she looked about herself, seeing the mirrors in her apartment. The ones in the bedroom, another above the mantel. One mounted on the dividing wall. She walked into the kitchen… she could still see the one above the mantel, but the angle was quite acute. She took another step. Better.

“Sorry, yes… It was fine, thanks… Daddy, listen. Something has happened.” She lowered her voice. “Do you still have that PI on payroll? What’s his name… Turner?”

She glanced again towards the mirrors while he talked, reassuring herself she was out of sight. “Trent, yeah. And everything is… well no, it’s not fine actually. I think I’m… er…” she spoke even more softly, not sure if the mirrors could pick up sound. It seemed unlikely, but who knew. “…being blackmailed.”

Red closed her eyes as her father vented a while. “Daddy…” she cut him off. “You don’t need to leave Malibu, and there’s nothing to go to the police with. I don’t need your help. I just want Trent to do something. I know I can trust him.” Okay, she couldn’t remember his name, but she didn’t generally pay much attention to the names of employees. She did remember him though – solid, dependable. He was essential to her plan.

She outlined her intent down the phone, her voice as quiet as she could keep it, and emphasised the urgency. She knew – somehow, she knew – Anne would be back tomorrow. It didn’t take long for her father to agree.

Eventually she ended the call, setting the phone down on the work surface and walking thoughtfully back into the living room. It wasn’t much of a plan, truth be told, but… she had to start somewhere.

The problem was that it depended on Anne visiting again. She knew she would – that wasn’t what bothered her – it was what would happen when she did that made Red squirm.

The phone in her apartment rang; she picked up. “Yes? Oh… that was quick. Yes, he’s expected, send him up.”

Her food was here; she’d eat, and go to bed. Tomorrow would see how her plan fared.

But, for now… her fingers slipped down to the sash of her kimono, tugging it open a bit… glancing into a mirror… and a bit more. Oh, deliveries were always such fun.

* * *