Everything had all gone so horribly… wrong? The man Ana had recently been would probably have thought so, but the woman she was now knew the truth was the exact opposite: everything had gone so perfectly right.
With the flogger coming down relentlessly on her sensitive pussy, all she could do was giggle as she recited the undeniable truth: ‘I’m your fucking slut.’ Breathless and painfully horny, she repeated herself over and over, feeling more liberated each time. Despite the pain lancing through her pussy, despite the aches of her ankles and wrists having been bound up for so many hours, she had never felt more alive as she did at the mercy of her new master.
Not that Ana really remembered much about her life as a man. She didn’t need to, after all, not when her sole purpose was unquestioning submission. In the last few seconds before she had fallen victim to the drug, however, she had vaguely thought that she really should have seen something like this coming.
Only a week before she had lived an entirely different life. Anthony had made a small fortune working as a loan shark, almost as cold as he was ruthless. His merciless pursuit of those who owed him had stripped more unfortunate souls penniless than he cared to count, and for the underprivileged residents of the city he truly lived up to his occupation: he was a shark, opportunistic and lethal, lurking just out of sight watching them flounder and flail before going in for the kill.
Naturally, an occupation such as his made enemies, but for a long time he had managed them perfectly easily. Enraged clients whom he had left destitute were easy enough to ward off with a brutish threat or two, while he had always made the effort to keep himself on friendly terms with the assorted gangsters working on his patch.
As it turned out, however, Anthony had made more enemies than he realised.
He hadn’t even remembered George when the man had turned up on his doorstep a week ago. Despite this, he soon realised the young man was different; unlike Anthony’s typical clients, he had kept his anger expertly contained, his cunning intellect setting him apart from the often brash, brutish criminals Anthony did business with.
Once George had jogged his memory Anthony was not surprised he didn’t recognise him; his loan had been a small one. More to the point, he looked like a completely different man – only the contours of his face suggested he was the same timid runt Anthony had ripped off a year before, the rest of his figure intimidatingly athletic.
Anthony had felt a spark of fear then: none of his pathetic clients had ever returned jacked enough to grind him into the dirt with ease. Threats suddenly felt like a poor decision, and as George had advanced into his house, colossal muscles barely contained beneath his shirt, Anthony had scurried backwards trying to think of ways to weasel his way out of a beating.
In the end, a beating might have been preferable to what he actually received. Cowering under George’s huge figure, he had listened with increasing horror to what his client had been doing since last they met. After Anthony had robbed him blind, George had turned to equally unlawful methods to make his money back. He had managed to get hold of a batch of Formula, which he himself had taken resulting in the god-like figure he now enjoyed. With a body nobody dared to mess with and a ruthless streak that ensured those who did were efficiently punished, he was now the leading supplier of Formula across the city with an operation that was only growing more lucrative by the week.
Still, there was something missing, something George had patiently waited for since he’d been conned him into poverty. His fantasy was missing one vital component: Anthony.
‘My fantasy wasn’t just to have a powerful body and sharp mind,’ he had said, ‘that was only half of it. My half. No, the full fantasy was having you as my personal bondage slut, begging to be punished and loving every minute of it. The Formula has been waiting in me all this time, dormant until I was ready to punish you for what you did to me. You took everything from me, and because you did my greatest desire was to take everything from you. You reap what you sow, as they say.’
George’s huge frame bearing down on her, hand outstretched was the last thing Ana remembered from her life before. Sooner or later, he assured her she would forget everything even if he had to beat it out of her, but for now it was a vision that danced through her dreams: the day master had set her free.
These days she was always desperate for more of him: his hand around her throat, his degrading habit of pissing on her naked body, his cum smearing her face. Above all else, however, she craved his cock. Filling her holes, stretching her to her limits, pumping in and out with blatant disregard for her own needs; all she desired was to be his worthless fuck toy to use and abuse however he saw fit while she screamed for more.
Master, of course, was more than happy to oblige…
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