Chapter 31: The Choker's Command
The rug was scratchy against Emily’s bare back. The cold from the floor seeped into her skin, a sharp counterpoint to the liquid heat pooling between her legs and the warm, satisfied ache in her muscles. Sarah rested her head on Emily’s thigh, breathing slowly, her lips still shining. The blue glow from the frozen game screen cast long, dramatic shadows.
Sarah turned her head, nuzzling the soft skin of Emily’s inner thigh. “You taste like a crime scene,” she murmured, her voice hoarse. “My favorite kind.”
Emily’s laugh was a breathy, broken thing. She stared at the ceiling, at a watermark shaped like a continent. Her mind was both perfectly empty and screamingly full. The phantom sensations of the night played on a loop: Ryan’s grip, Cody’s thrusts, Sarah’s tongue. They blurred into a single narrative of consumption.
Sarah sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She didn’t look away. Her eyes, usually alight with mischievous energy, were dark, focused, and utterly serious. She reached out, her fingers not touching skin at first, but tracing the air an inch above Emily’s collarbone. Then they landed, cool and deliberate, on the thin black lace of the choker. She hooked a finger under it, testing the give. The bell gave a soft, hollow ting.
“This,” Sarah said, her voice low. “This stays on. From now on, when you’re with me.” She applied a gentle, insistent pressure, tugging Emily upward by the collar. Emily rose, compelled, until their faces were inches apart. Sarah’s breath smelled of her. “Every single time this little bell rings,” Sarah whispered, her lips brushing Emily’s, “you remember. You’re mine.”
The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was a conquest. Sarah’s tongue pushed into Emily’s mouth, claiming it with the same possessive authority she’d just used between her legs. Emily moaned into it, her hands coming up to clutch at Sarah’s shoulders. The cheap lace of the choker dug into the back of her neck, a constant, tight reminder.
Sarah broke the kiss with a soft bite on Emily’s lower lip. She pushed, firmly, guiding Emily back down onto the rug. “On your back. Legs open. I want to see everything.” Her tone brooked no argument, only a thrilling, seductive command.
Emily obeyed, spreading her legs, exposing the glistening, swollen evidence of the last hour to the cool air and Sarah’s hungry gaze. Sarah knelt between her thighs, but instead of lowering her mouth again, she reached over to a small, woven basket beside the couch. Emily hadn’t even noticed it. From it, Sarah pulled a sleek, black silicone plug, its tapered shape ending in a flared base. It looked small but substantial. Next came a bottle of lube, and a smooth, oval-shaped egg with a tiny wireless remote.
“What…” Emily started, her voice catching.
“Training,” Sarah said simply, popping the cap on the lube. She poured a generous, clear pool into her palm, the sound obscenely wet in the quiet room. She coated the plug thoroughly, making it shine in the monitor’s light. “You’re my fucktoy, right? You said it. Fucktoys get accessorized.”
Emily’s heart hammered against her ribs. This was new. This was a threshold. She watched, transfixed, as Sarah brought the slick, cool tip of the plug to her entrance. Not her pussy, but the tight, furled knot below it.
“Relax,” Sarah said, not unkindly, but with the focus of a technician. “Breathe out.”
Emily exhaled, and Sarah pressed. The intrusion was a sharp, burning stretch, a fullness so different from a cock or fingers. It wasn’t about penetration; it was about occupation. Sarah worked it slowly, patiently, twisting it slightly as the widest part stretched Emily open before popping past the resistant ring of muscle with a soft, wet noise. Emily gasped, her back arching off the rug. The feeling of being stuffed, claimed in this most private place, was overwhelmingly intense. The flared base sat snug against her, a permanent, intrusive presence.
“Good girl,” Sarah cooed. She didn’t pause. She picked up the smooth egg, lubricated it, and guided it to Emily’s other hole. Her pussy was so wet and loose from the night’s activities that it slid in without resistance, a deep, fullness that settled heavy and low inside her. Sarah’s fingers followed it, pushing it deeper, curling to press against Emily’s front wall. Emily cried out, a sharp, surprised sound.
Sarah held up the small black remote. “This controls the egg. I decide when it vibrates. And this,” she said, tapping the base of the plug with a fingernail, “stays in. You’ll get used to it. You’ll learn to crave the stretch. It’s a part of you now, when you’re with me.”
She leaned down then, her body hovering over Emily’s. She captured Emily’s mouth in another searing kiss, her hands roaming—palming a breast, pinching a nipple, sliding down to where the toys disappeared inside Emily’s body. Her fingers traced the flared base of the plug, pressing it gently inward, making Emily jolt.
“You belong to me,” Sarah breathed against her lips, her voice thick with desire. “Your used-up, filthy, perfect little cunt belongs to me. Your ass belongs to me. Say it.”
The words were a litany, a spell. Emily was split open, filled, hovering on a precipice of sensation so acute it bordered on pain. “I’m yours,” she panted.
“Louder.”
“I’m yours! My cunt is yours, my ass is yours!” The bell on her choker jingled frantically with the convulsive movement of her throat.
“And what are you?”
Emily’s mind, hazy with endorphins and submission, found the phrase. The one from the synopsis, now given breath and truth. “I’m your fucktoy!”
Sarah’s eyes blazed with triumph. “Yes. You are.” Her hand found the remote. A switch clicked.
A deep, insistent buzz ignited inside Emily’s pussy. It wasn’t a gentle hum; it was a ruthless, throbbing vibration that resonated through her entire pelvis, rattling against the solid presence of the plug in her ass. It lit up every raw nerve. She screamed, her body bowing off the floor, her heels digging into the rug for purchase that wasn’t there.
Sarah watched, one hand pinning Emily’s hip down, the other manipulating the remote. She cycled through patterns—a steady pulse, a chaotic stutter, a climbing wave of intensity. Each change ripped a new sound from Emily’s throat. The dual fullness, the invasive buzz, the scratch of the rug, the smell of sex and silicone—it overwhelmed her. She was nothing but a vessel for sensation, a instrument played by Sarah’s will.
“Come for me, toy,” Sarah commanded, her voice guttural. She twisted the plug, just a fraction.
It was the final straw. Emily’s orgasm detonated. It wasn’t a wave; it was a systemic collapse, a white-hot short circuit that seized every muscle. Her cunt clenched wildly around the vibrating egg, her ass spasmed against the unyielding plug. She shook, violently, soundlessly for a moment before a raw, shattered scream was torn from her lungs. The bell on her choker became a frantic, chaotic jingle, the soundmark of her surrender.
Sarah clicked the remote off. The sudden silence was louder than the buzz. Emily crumpled, boneless, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She was hollowed out, scoured clean.
Sarah slowly, carefully, withdrew the egg, then the plug. Each removal was a minor shock, a loss of that punishing fullness. She laid down beside Emily on the rug, pulling her close, ignoring the dampness and the sweat. She kissed Emily’s temple, her fingers softly stroking the choker.
“See?” Sarah whispered into her hair. “This is what you wanted. This is what you are. No more pretend. No more hiding.”
Emily, trembling in the aftermath, could only nod. The part of her that belonged to Cody—the sweet, easygoing girlfriend—felt like a distant fiction, a character from a book she’d closed. Here, in the clutter and the blue glow, filled with the echo of vibrations and the bite of lace on her neck, was a terrifying, exhilarating truth.
Her phone, still in her coat across the room, buzzed. Once. A text.
It would be Cody. Asking if she was okay. Telling her goodnight.
Emily closed her eyes and burrowed deeper into Sarah’s side, letting the sound fade into the hum of the projector’s fan. She didn’t move. The choker felt like the only real thing she was wearing.
The choker felt like the only real thing she was wearing. Everything else—the sweat cooling on her skin, the ache between her legs, the fading buzz in her nerves—seemed temporary, ephemeral. Only the tight lace and the little bell held weight.
“Don’t fall asleep on me yet,” Sarah murmured, her fingers still tracing the choker’s edge. “We’re not done with class tonight.”
Emily made a weak, protesting sound from the cradle of Sarah’s arm. Her body was a overstrung instrument, every chord thrumming with residual vibration. “I can’t. I’m empty.”
“You’re not.” Sarah shifted, disentangling herself and standing up with a fluid grace Emily envied. She walked over to her laptop, parked on the cluttered coffee table amidst the dice and soda cans. The keystrokes were loud in the quiet. “You’re just beginning. Come here.”
The command pulled Emily upright. She moved stiffly, the sensation of the rug’s texture against her bare ass a vivid reminder of her exposure. She stood behind Sarah, looking over her shoulder at the bright screen.
Sarah clicked a file. The video player opened, filling with shaky, dim footage. The audio was muddled at first, then cleared. Emily saw the familiar basement, the D&D table lit by a single overhead lamp. She saw herself, hours earlier, sitting between Ryan and Sarah, a nervous smile playing on her lips. She was wearing the same choker.
“Watch,” Sarah said softly.
On screen, Sarah-as-the-Game-Master was describing a dank prison cell. Ryan’s character, a hulking half-orc, was chained to a wall. Emily’s elven rogue was ordered to search him for a key. The fictional scenario was thin, a transparent veil.
The video showed Emily’s real hand, trembling slightly, reaching toward Ryan’s chest. It showed Ryan’s grin, not his character’s. It showed the moment her fingers, following Sarah’s narrated commands, dipped below the waistband of his jeans. The camera angle, from a phone propped on a bookshelf, caught the stark hunger on her own face. It captured the raw, greedy sound Ryan made when her hand closed around him.
“Oh, god,” Emily whispered, her stomach tightening.
“Shhh,” Sarah said. She reached back, her hand finding Emily’s hip, pulling her closer until Emily’s naked body was pressed against her back. On screen, the scene progressed. Sarah’s voice, from the video, was a hypnotic drone. “The orc snarls, but it’s a snarl of pleasure. His hips thrust against your trapped hand. The key isn’t on him. It’s in him. You have to take it.”
The video showed Emily sinking to her knees on the basement’s concrete floor. It showed Ryan unbuckling his belt. The image was dark, grainy, but unmistakable. The sound of his zpper was deafening. Then the wet, sucking sounds began.
Sarah pressed play. The audio of her past moans filled the present room. Sarah’s free hand snaked between Emily’s legs from behind, fingers sliding effortlessly into her slick, open cunt. “See how pretty you look? See how hungry you were?” Sarah’s voice was a hot whisper in her ear. “You wanted it. You wanted his nasty cock in your mouth while I watched. Admit it.”
Emily couldn’t speak. She watched, hypnotized, as her on-screen head bobbed in the shadows. She remembered the taste of salt and skin, the dizzying power of it. Sarah’s fingers inside her curled, mimicking the rhythm of the blowjob on the screen.
“You’re going to watch it all,” Sarah breathed. Her other hand came up, presenting a dildo Emily hadn’t seen her grab. It was realistic, veined, glistening with a fresh coat of lube. “And you’re going to suck this, like the good little cocksucker you are. And you’re going to remember every detail.”
She guided the rubber cock to Emily’s lips. The silicone smell was chemical and artificial. Emily opened her mouth, her eyes still locked on the video of her past self gagging. She took the head in, the texture strange against her tongue.
“Good toy,” Sarah purred. She began to push it deeper, fucking Emily’s mouth with slow, insistent strokes. On screen, Ryan was groaning, his hands tangled in Emily’s hair. In the present, Sarah’s fingers pumped in and out of Emily’s cunt, a filthy counter-rhythm. “Taste it. Imagine it’s him again. Imagine it’s Cody. Imagine it’s whoever I tell you it is.”
Emily gagged, tears springing to her eyes. Saliva dripped down her chin. The dual violation—the memory in her eyes, the rubber in her mouth, the fingers in her pussy—shattered her. Sarah angled the dildo downward, pressing it against her tongue, simulating a deep throat.
Then Sarah’s hand left her cunt. Emily whimpered at the loss, but the sound was muffled by the fake cock filling her mouth. She felt Sarah’s fingers, slick with her own juices, circle the plug still seated in her ass. They pressed, not to remove it, but to rotate it, to work it gently back and forth inside her.
“This plug is your anchor,” Sarah whispered, her lips against Emily’s ear as she fucked her mouth with the dildo. “It’s my mark in you. Feel it grind when you move.” She increased the pressure, twisting the base. The stretch burned anew, a bright, painful pleasure that radiated through her groin. “Now fuck yourself on it. Hump my hand like the desperate bitch you are.”
Emily obeyed, her hips moving in shallow, shaky thrusts, forcing the plug to move inside her, rubbing against that deep, shocking cluster of nerves. The sensations collided: the gagging fullness in her mouth, the brutal fullness in her ass, the empty ache in her cunt. Her moans were choked, animalistic.
On the screen, the scene was reaching its climax. Ryan’s grunts became short, sharp barks. Sarah’s recorded voice was saying, “He’s going to give you the key. Take your reward.”
“This is when he came in your mouth,” Sarah narrated live, her voice hitching as she ground the plug harder. “You swallowed it all, didn’t you? You loved it.”
In the video, Emily’s shoulders convulsed. In the present, Emily’s body mirrored the action, seizing up as a brutal, unspeakable orgasm ripped through her. It had no warmth, no sweetness. It was a punishing electrical storm that locked her joints and blurred her vision. She screamed around the dildo, her ass clamping vise-tight on the plug, her entire body vibrating.
Sarah held her through it, fucking her mouth steadily until the tremors subsided into weak shudders. Then, finally, she withdrew the slick toy from Emily’s lips. Strings of saliva connected them.
Sarah spun Emily around to face her. Emily’s legs barely held. Sarah’s eyes were wild, victorious. She kissed Emily deeply, tasting the rubber and the sour hint of vomit. “You see?” she panted into the kiss. “You see what you are? This was just the first lesson.”
She nudged the plug with her knuckle, making Emily gasp. “Next time,” Sarah whispered, the promise settling in the room like a physical thing, “you’ll be an even better toy. You’ll beg for it. You’ll wear this plug to class and think of me. You’ll suck Cody’s cock and taste Ryan. You’ll be so perfectly, beautifully mine that you won’t know where you end and I begin.”
Emily, wrecked and hollow, believed her. The choker was no longer just a choker. It was a collar. The bell was a leash. The understanding was a cold, solid weight in her gut, heavier than any toy.
Across the room, her phone buzzed again on the floor. This time, it didn’t stop. The screen illuminated the toe of her discarded boot, flashing Cody’s name in a persistent, silent rhythm. It buzzed and buzzed and buzzed.
She didn’t move to answer it.