My New Gilded Bracelets

[F4M] My New Gilded Bracelets

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[drowsily, from having been drugged and asleep] Wha . . . ? What?

CLINKING CHAINS

[nervous, increasingly more so throughout] (quick, panicking breaths) Chains? Why are my wrists chained in front of me? (gasp as you look down to see you’re wearing absolutely nothing) Why-Why am I naked?! Where am I?! How – ?!

METAL DOOR OPENING AND SLAMMING SHUT

(gasp) Who . . . Who are you? How did I get here? Where am I?

(pause)

Y . . . You’re a . . . You’re a *foreigner*? What do you . . . ? (pause) What my kind calls an – You’re an alien?!

[embarrassed] (muttering) I mean, you are very large . . . [hesitant] But you don’t *look* like an alien?

What do I think aliens are supposed to look like? Well, they’ve got big heads and large black eyes and green skin. But . . . you don’t have any of that.

I was sold? What do you mean I was sold?

By the Dhue – the who? Another alien race? And they’re . . . They’re slavers who kidnap inhabitants and sell them to *other alien races*? How . . . How many races are there? [in surprise] Th-thousands?!

[innocent] But I haven’t done anything wrong. (brief pause) Where are my clothes at?

(long pause) I don’t *need* clothes? Yes, I do; it’s cold in here.

But . . . But why-why are you naked? The same reason I am? I don’t know wh –

Y-You’re going to . . . *fuck* me?! Y-You can’t do that!

I’m a slave? You can do whatever you want with me? N-No, you can’t! That’s a universal law, [despondent] or, at least, it should be. I don’t belong to anyone.

(panicking) W-What are you doing?! No! Let me go! Let me go! No! N –

(muffled yelling, then a sharp yelp/whimper as you’re slapped hard across the face)

(crying, sobbing, sniffling, getting seriously upset) What do you mean I’m only in training? Do I look like a dog to you?

What do you mean ‘open my mouth’? (whining) No!

(getting slapped around, yelp) Stop! Don’t pull my hair! That hurts!

[quickly, panicky] Okay, okay, okay! I-I will, just please don’t hit me again!

(hesitant pause)

BELT UNBUCKLING, ZIPPER COMING UNDONE

[frightened] (surprised gasp) Oh my god . . . You’re . . . You’re huge!

[hesitant] My mouth is open –

(gagging on his cock, then gasping for air) H-Hey! Y-You can’t just . . . shove it in like that! You’re too big to just –

(choking, gagging, muffled protests, improv tears and sniffling, whimpering as you’re repeatedly pulled on and back off again)

(desperate gasping, coughing)

[pained] Ow! St-Stop! Please, let me go of my hair! That hurts! (crying, sniffling, whimpering) What? What do you mean?

(long pause)

(gradual hyperventilation) You’re going to . . . *train me* . . . until I submit to you? Then you’re going to . . . *BREED ME*?!

(sniffling, panting, crying) No. No, no. (struggling as you’re easily shoved around and pinned to the metal table) No! Get off me! Don’t turn me over on my stomach! S-Stop! Get your hand off my back, please!

Stop. Stop! [almost like a bratty child] I’m not wet! I’m not, I’m not!

No I don’t want you to force me. Not here, not on this table, not ever! It’s cold, and it’s my nipples, please, get off! I don’t want it!

(startled moan) Don’t t-touch that! That’s my . . . clit! It’s sensitive there!

(gasp) [surprised] Ah! [quiet] Mm!

[bashful] N-No, I wasn’t. I was *not* grinding back against you. I didn’t moan! I didn’t! Uh-uh! My p . . . (mutter) pussy [indignant] is not wet! It is not!

What are you doing? No! Don’t slip two fingers into me! You ca – (cut off by a long, high-pitched squeal/moan/gasp)

[shaky] No . . . No resistance? N-No way. That isn’t possible. No, that’s impossible.

(sighing shakily) W-Why did you stop? What? Don’t put your hand on my mouth!

(muffled but fairly calm objection, until two wet fingers circle your asshole, then your protests become rather animated; stifled scream)

[breathless] Oh my god . . . (chanting in embarrassment) No, no, no, no, no. (hiss) Ah! My god, that hurts! That burns as you stretch it! (pleading) Stop, please. Please, I can’t . . . I can’t take it there, not there.

[pained] Oh! I think it hurts even more when you pull out, (mumbling) and those are just your fingers. I’ve already broken out into a little bit of a sweat just trying to take that. Oh god.

[quiet and desperate] P-Please. You don’t have to do this. You can just . . . send me back home. I promise – I promise I won’t say a word to anybody. Nobody. Please.

Ah! Oh, fuck! No . . . No, please, stop, that hurts. Too much, it’s too much, please. [breathless] Your . . . cock . . .

(gasping) Oh my God . . . ! Oh . . . !

(begging) No, no, no, please pull out. I can’t; I can’t – that hurts. Ah! (hiss in pain) Ooh, no, no, *please* pull out, that burns . . . that burns like *hell*!

R-Relax? Are you serious?! I-I can’t. It hurts too much, and you’re too big. No –

(moan reluctantly)

(panting) W-Well, when you touch my clit like that . . . what do you expect to happen . . . ? [hesitantly] Yes, it feels good – but I don’t want it to!

(more moaning)

I’m torn. I’m very torn, yes. (ramble) I shouldn’t want this; I shouldn’t – it’s wrong. I didn’t agree to this. I was kidnapped, and I can’t even remember it happening, or the last few days, or how I got here. But that feels *so* good. I don’t want you to stop because the pain mixed the pleasure is a combination I can’t argue with anymore, but I *can’t*.

[breathless] I . . . shouldn’t. You’re . . . *forcing* me. This is wrong, so wrong, so *very* wrong.

(whimper, begging) Oh, please. Please don’t make me cum. Please don’t humiliate me like this. Please, I’m begging you. I will do anything, just . . . please don’t . . . don’t make me cum with your cock in my ass, don’t force me to do this.

[shakily] (crying again) Oh, why? Why? Please don’t make me. I don’t wanna. I don’t want to. [desperate] *Please*!

(yelp as you’re repeatedly slapped hard on the ass, both cheeks, improvise)

No! No. (mumbling and moaning uncontrollably) No, I’m not gonna cum, I’m not gonna cum, I’m not gonna cum. N . . . No . . . You’re . . . going to cum with me, b-but –

(improvise orgasm, and then come back down slowly; very slowly)

Oh my god. I’m shaking, and twitching, and digging my nails into my palm from the aftermath. What have you done to me?

Huh . . . ? You don’t think . . . [confused] my training is over? And these are my new gilded bracelets? How . . . much more do you think I need?

(pause)

[despairingly] Oh god.