Wakeup Call

I have posted this piece here after the Benfanstorybox Yahoo Group folded so that it is not lost.

This is an adult fantasy involving themes of slavery and extreme body modification.  Don’t read it unless such themes appeal to you, and don’t repost anywhere minors might have access.

by Benfan

Red stirred slightly as the first rays of morning light glanced across the ceiling.  In a moment she snapped fully awake, a moment of terror briefly knitting her fair brow.  Night time was her time on duty; she had been trained to keep quietly alert throughout the dark hours, and knew immediately that by dozing she’d committed a serious violation.

But it was alright, there was no sharp jolt of electricity this time to remind her of her duty, no trainer’s voice in her ear scolding her.  She was not in training now, but in her master’s firm, wide, silky bed, and it was still very early.  The light filtering through the window was the rosy orange of an hour before dawn.  Not moving her head, she rolled her eyes to glance at the numbers projected on the ceiling above the bed.  05:39 glowed there in white, washed out now by the growing fire of the sunrise, and below it in red, 06:00.  She still had twenty minutes.

But after a moment’s relief she scolded herself, silently.  It had been a busy night, yes, and she might make the excuse of being tired, but she would have plenty of time to nap throughout the day.  She must not allow such breaches of discipline to become habit or she would suffer for it.

Red was laying on her side, facing the window that covered most of the eastern wall of the expansive bedroom, though from the low platform bed she could only see the sky and a few antennas that sprouted from the taller buildings of the great city outside.  In a few hours, when the maid picked her up and set her on her day-stand in the alcove built into the western wall of the room, she would be able to look down through the one-way mirrored glass and watch some of the distant bustle below.  But from the bed there was little view to distract her, only the tastefully austere, Asian-themed hangings on the walls, and on some nights the moon shining brightly through the wide glass wall.

She felt her master’s muscular arm draped heavily across her waist, and his firm pectoral muscles pressed into her shoulder blades.  She felt his cock too, long and chubby and semi-erect, resting in the cleft of her buttocks.  His warm breath caressed the back of her neck.

That neck was badly cramped along one side, from holding her head in this position for what must be hours now with no pillow of her own.  But she’d been conditioned to endure far worse, and such aches were merely a nuisance that did little to distract her from her duty.  It never crossed her mind to turn and stretch, or adjust her position to relieve the pain, or to move a muscle more than was necessary to take quiet, shallow breaths.  Not when she was on duty, and especially with the master so close as to be disturbed by her slightest movement.

Scanning down toward the floor, past the horizon formed by the distant edge of the huge, low bed, she caught a partial view of her bedmate Black Pillow.  The pretty and diminutive Asian girl was named for her shiny, jet-black hair, which was gathered in a leather-bound ponytail that hung behind her when she sat upright on her day-stand.  Now, it draped across her face as she lay on her side on the floor, right where she’d slipped or been tossed a few hours earlier.

In the dim light Red Pillow – that was her full name, chosen to match her own auburn locks….well, not her full real name; she knew she’d had another name at some point, that was no doubt still recorded somewhere, buried in a dust-covered file cabinet in a dark basement archive, probably in the same folder as her death certificate.  But she and her bedmates had been strongly encouraged to forget any previous names, and even the first innocent wanderings of her mind in that direction were halted by memories of hot pain…

In the dim light Red Pillow could see a little residue of last night’s activity, where Black’s hair was plastered here and there to her face by once-sticky goo that had dried now into a white crust.

More crusty spots dotted the white silk of Black’s slipcover, the snug-fitting sheath that covered most of her torso.  Her firm, cupcake breasts protruded through a pair of cutaways in front, piped in silver.  Her light brown nipples stood half-erect in the cool night air.  The bottom of the slipcase was open, fitted along the line where Black’s firm bottom met her lower back and just above her shaved pussy.  Like the breast cutouts the hem of the slipcover was trimmed in silver piping, to match the other bed linens.  Large silvery tassles dangled from the shoulder-corners of the sheath, which was stretched tight over her little torso by a Y-shaped thong; two flat-woven and linguine-thin cords descended to either side of her mons, then met in the cleft behind her anus and rose again up between her cheeks to a knot at the base of the spine.  Red Pillow wore a similar sheath; the main difference was that Red’s slipcase sported a single, large cutaway at the front that exposed most of her chest, the better to accomodate her fuller D-cup breasts.

Beneath the big gaudy tassles the slipcases hid the scars at the shoulder where the pillows’ arms had been amputated, the upper arm bones removed completely from the shoulder sockets and firm plastic knobs set under the skin to give a smooth, rounded appearance.  The tassles were attached sturdily to the body of the sheaths and provided convenient handles by which the pillows could be lifted or handled, either by their master or the maid or others on his staff.  In this event, the pillows’ weight was borne largely by the thin crotch-thong.

The scars along the bottom and sides of their round buttocks were exposed, and despite the careful work of a premier surgeon the faintest lines remained to show where their femurs had been likewise removed, the large gluteus muscles – now purposeless and destined for atrophy – excised and the flesh of the buttocks refilled and rounded with artful silicone facsimiles of perfect, curvaceous asscheeks.  Covering these barely-visible reminders with water- and smear-proof makeup was one of the daily duties of the pillows’ minder, who would visit them later that morning while master was out for the day.

Black Pillow lay dutifully awake; in fact there was little chance that she might doze while she lay sticky and uncomfortable on the hard wooden floor.  But she did not envy the buxom redhead who now lay in relative comfort under their master’s arm – such selfish thoughts had been burned out of the pillows completely.  Their only thought, now, was to their duty.

Black had been concerned when she’d watched Red doze off in the moonlight, seen her eyes close and her breathing turn briefly deeper and slower – if that lapse had been discovered, they all would have paid.  But she had dared not make a sound in the silent night.  Black Pillow was relieved now to see the green eyes of her bedmate open again and casting about, and tilted her head to peer above the edge of the bed and draw her attention.  The two pillows locked eyes, and Black glanced toward the numbers on the ceiling: 05:40, now, and 06:00.  Red followed her gaze briefly, then they locked eyes again and Red blinked her long lashes purposefully.

Yes, I know.

Moments turned to minutes, in silence broken only by their master’s slow, sonorous breathing, while the morning light slowly grew.  Red wondered if Yellow Pillow was in her most frequent position at the top of the bed, laying on her side while the master’s head rested on her huge, spongy breasts.  She assumed as much, since Yellow had been tailored largely to fill that role.  Red recalled how her blonde bedmate had been taken from their room, several times in the weeks after her initial arrival, so that the surgeon could add and remove silicone from her elastic implants in ever-diminishing amounts until her bust was just the right size and firmess to provide their master with the proper support.

Red grimaced for a moment as her stomach cramped, and as her guts churned she fought to hold her body motionless in her master’s embrace.  It had been almost twenty hours since her last servicing, and both her bowel and bladder were uncomfortably full.

Usually, the pillow-minder would arrive about 10:00, shortly after the maid had finished cleaning the room.  In the course of making the bed, the burly Latina housekeeper would lift the pillows onto their day-stands, which looked not unlike black steel barstools with U-shaped padded seats, and close the hinged, padded steel waistbands that made it impossible for them to fall off as they alternately napped and stirred throughout the day.  At night, the stands and the rest of the support machinery were hidden behind a sliding panel that made up most of the west wall of the bedroom, but when the stands were occupied the panel was left open affording the pillows a view out the huge window.

The maid knew to treat the pillows gently, but she often made a show of huffing and puffing at their weight as she manhandled them by their shoulder-tassles, and lifted them onto the stands with a strong, gloved hand under the tailbone.  Yellow Pillow especially brought a stream of Spanish profanities from the maid’s lips, as she struggled with the blonde’s greater weight.  “Que tetas ponderosas!” was a phrase heard often at this point in the morning routine.

When the pillow-minder arrived her first task, after removing the soiled slipcovers and wiping away any excessive fluids or mess, would be to connect the pillows’ purge fittings.  These were a pair of flexible plastic tubes connected to hoses that rose from shiny steel and black plastic machinery at the stands’ bases.  The first, about ten inches long and a little less than an inch in diameter, would be lubed and slowly inserted into a pillow’s rectum, until it engaged a valve implanted in the bowel about an inch beyond the reach of the master’s erect penis.  Then a much smaller, slimmer tube would be greased and slid into the urethra, where it engaged a smaller plastic valve implanted just below the skin.

On most mornings, when the pillows had spent the entire previous day with purge tubes in place, there would be an immediate but moderate flow of urine upon connection, while a small enema was required to get things started in the rear.  But yesterday, the master had come home early and ordered his bed to be prepared before the minder had a chance to administer the second enema, usually given in the early evening.  And so this morning Red’s bowel gurgled impatiently.  She was sure no morning enema would be required, today, and hoped that the minder remembered to double-check the fittings on the drain lines.  The last time they’d been allowed to get so overfilled, Yellow’s urine line had seperated from the machine when her pee had begun to flow, and the pressure generated by her overfilled bladder had made the thin plastic hose wave about like an unmanned firehose, spraying the room (and the minder) with yellow pee!

Of course the resulting mess was in no way the pillows’ fault.  But in her anger the minder had not only denied them their noontime exercise but also, after seeing them properly cleaned up, closed the sliding panel and left them to undergo their regular cycle of purging and feeding in darkness.  This was a heavy punishment for human minds whose only diversion, aside from the pleasure of serving their master, was the view out the big window of the city far below.  Despite the darkness, neither Red nor her bedmates had been able to nap at all that day, so frustrated were they at being deprived of their daily glimpse of the world outside.

Though she would never admit as much, upon her return in the evening to dress and make up her charges the minder had seemed somewhat guilty at her pique.  Whether to make amends, or because she judged it necessary, she had administered a larger than normal dose of the cocktail of antidepressant and mild sedative that helped the pillows to retain a semblance of sanity through the tedium of their daily routine.

Her churning bowel suppressed any desire to eat, but Red Pillow was hungry too, and above the gurgling stuffedness in her lower abdomen an unfamiliar emptiness gnawed at her.  Just as she had missed her afternoon enema the previous day, so had she missed her afternoon meal.  Since about 10:30 the previous morning, all she’d consumed had been a few spoonfuls of her master’s semen, which while delicious and nourishing to her reprogrammed spirit provided little in the way of calories.  She looked forward to when, after purging her body of the previous day’s meal, the minder would slip the hollow feeding gag between her red-dyed, collagen-plumped lips and smooth, toothless gums, and slide the plastic tube down her throat – to avoid any risk of choking caused by the deadening of her gag reflex – then start the pump that would deliver in slow spurts directly to her stomach the pasty gruel that fueled her abbreviated body.  Hopefully, the minder would remember that the pillows had missed yesterday’s supper, and program the machine to deliver a somewhat larger breakfast than was normal.

Red saw Black Pillow, down on the floor, tilt her cum-stained head again to call her wandering mind back to its duty.  Glancing up at the ceiling Red saw the white numbers read 05:58.  Almost time…..in her head she planned and reviewed how she would fulfill her most important responsibility of the morning.

The moment the white numbers turned to 06:00, matching the red ones, Red Pillow let out the lowest of moans, more of a toned breath really, and wiggled her pelvis a fraction of an inch.  Simultaneously, to the second, she heard and sensed similar efforts being made near the head of the bed – Yellow Pillow was in fact in her usual place, awake and on the job.

Slowly Red’s wiggles expanded until she was rotating her hips an inch or so, which made her master’s cock slide back and forth along the cleft of her round butt.  As she increased the volume of her little moans she felt the member lengthen and swell, but still he did not stir.  She flexed her torso slightly, so that master’s arm slid along her silken sheath and his hand brushed the bottom of her pale breast.

Even as Red Pillow heard Yellow’s ministrations grow in pace with her own, their master’s breaths came slow and regular.  It had been a long night; he had exerted himself fully with them, and could probably sleep for several more hours.  But if, when they did succeed in awakening him, the numbers on the ceiling did not match there would be hell to pay.

Red looked down at Black, who watched with obvious concern but dared not utter a sound.  How many seconds had passed since they had begun to stir – forty?  Fifty?  With a moan that sounded dangerously loud – master hated to be jarred awake – Red Pillow slowly bent her sore, stiff neck, groping with the back of her head the brush her auburn ponytail against the master’s face.  Black’s dark eyes widened.  It was a risky move – Master might awaken with a sneeze, and who knew what that would mean for them.

But just then his hand moved, rotating to cup the full breast that Red offered it.  He cleared his throat, then squinted and stiffened all over, his hand clamping down tight on the white tit.  The powerful, semi-conscious squeeze would leave bright red fingermarks, but Red responded only with a deep moan of pleasure.

Unseen to any of his pillows, a smile grew on the master’s lips as he slowly awakened, his cheek and nose pressed deep into Yellow’s spongy tit.  A quick glance at the numbers on the ceiling caught the change from 06:00 to 06:01.  He turned his head back and forth slowly, to feel the soft, tanned tit-flesh sliding under his stubbled cheek, and across the close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair on the back of his head.  He shifted his grip on Red’s white breast and fingered it more gently now, kneading and stroking.  He bent his neck to sniff her red hair, and grinned at how it tickled his nose.

Red was still turning her hips, more lustily now to show her eagerness to please.  The cock that slid back and forth between her asscheeks was at it’s full nine-inch length now, and hard as oak.

Her master’s hand left her breast and slid slowly down her side, then tightened over the surgically sculpted hip.  Slowly he pulled and twisted, and Red arched her spine in response, making herself available to him.

With his other hand her master guided his rigid prick into Red’s waiting pussy from behind.  The soft lips, fringed in close-cropped rusty down, opened easily for him, but he paused to rub the head of his cock gently against her delicate tissues for a few seconds while she lubricated.  By the time he pressed it home, Red was aflame with anticipation and greeted his penetration with a gasp of pleasure; a flush colored her fair cheeks as she tossed her red head and groaned aloud.

The master gripped Red’s pelvis with both hands, now, and slowly slid her body back and forth on his cock while his own hips rolled back and forth in time.  He turned his face deeper into Yellow’s cleavage, and as he groped with his lips she twisted her torso, offering a pink nipple to his mouth.  Hungrily he sucked it in, licking and nipping and the soft, sweet flesh.

As his ardor grew the master rolled on top of Red, so that he drove into her now from behind and above in a reverse missionary position.  One of his powerful arms pressed into the mattress next to her face; the other hand gripped her auburn ponytail, pulling to keep her from sliding away from him on the silk sheets while he pummeled her and she gasped and moaned between clenched teeth, her chin pressed hard into the silk sheets.

Temporarily out of the action but eager to show her affection, Yellow slowly twisted and squirmed, dragging her heavy tits a foot or two across the mattress until she could lick her master’s fingers.  He responded by stopping his thrusts, shifting his weight and taking a firm grasp on one of her shoulder tassles.  With one strong tug he dragged Yellow’s torso three feet across the sheets, so that she lay face up with her head pointed toward the foot of the bed.  Then his strong hands gripped Red at the shoulder and hip, and lifted her on top of Yellow with her head still toward the bed’s head.  Yellow’s spongy overfilled breasts pressed up against the front of Red’s hips now, supporting the latter’s arched-back posture.

Satisfied with this arrangement the master rocked forward on his knees and entered Red Pillow again, with no hesitation this time, and she gasped and flushed once more as her tight, sopping pussy took his full length in one stroke.  Rocking back and forth he gripped Red’s hips and pistoned her with deep, slow strokes while his shaved balls dangled above Yellow Pillow’s face.  The latter reached upward with her tongue to them, tickling and licking before taking the egg-sized glands into her mouth – first one, then the other, then both at the same time which made her tanned cheeks bulge comically.  As the master settled into a rhythm Red Pillow tipped her head down and began to lap at Yellow’s fuzzy cleft.

For some minutes this went on…it would have been for longer but the master had an early appointment that morning. “Bring me off now,” he said simply.

Lifting her moistened nose from her bedmate’s pussy, Red grimaced with effort as she alternately clenched the muscles of her own box in time with her master’s strokes.  She was well trained, and if he closed his eyes he could imagine it was a talented hand down there, jerking him off.  But the only hands in this bedroom were his own.  It only took a dozen such strokes to bring him near the edge…

Withdrawing suddenly the master put his feet under him, and grasped a ponytail in each hand.  As he stood in the middle of the firm bed he lifted the pillows with him, Red to the left and Yellow to the right, until they sat balanced on their double-round bottoms.  Glaring out through the mirrored glass at day breaking over his city, he twisted their hair in his hands so that they turned to face his throbbing cock, their clefts rubbing against the silk sheets as they spun.  Holding them upright by the hair the master pulled his pillows’ faces to his groin and took turns driving his prick between their plump lips, first to the left, then the right, then back again.

Finally he laced his hand into the hair atop Yellow’s head and tipping it forcefully back pushed her face under him to suck his balls again.  With the other hand still gripping Red’s ponytail he pulled her head towards him, so that his cock bulled its way past her glottis and down her open throat.

Quickly Red swallowed, again and again and again, massaging his glans with the muscles of her throat while her nimble tongue flickered over the underside of his prick.  As his fingers tightened in her hair, she knew he was so close….but he had cum three times the night before and would not be rushed.  Her fair face flushed, then turned purple as her lungs screamed for air, but her well-trained throat and mouth never slowed their efforts – at this point her master’s orgasm was her only route to another breath.  Red’s eyes teared, then began to roll back in her head….

At last he grunted, and groaned, and she felt the spatter of his ejaculate against her throat.  She slowed now, as the light began to fade….but her master was merciful, and did not prolong her agony.  He pulled her face off of him with a pop! and sprayed his last few drops across her green eyes as she gasped for breath.

When he was spent the master let his pillows gently down to the bed, as he sank himself to his knees and breathed heavily for a moment.

At last he roused himself, stood, and stepped off the bed.  Donning a robe he looked down at Black Pillow, still laying quietly on the floor and bearing the stains of his previous night’s satisfaction.

“Not a very comfortable night for you, I suppose,” he said lightly and half to himself.  Bending down he lifted the tiny and truncated Asian by her tassles and set her on the silken bed next to her mates.  “There you go.”

Without another word he was out the door of the bed chamber, off to begin his own routine with a shower, then a coffee on the balcony overlooking his city.  It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.

Strewn haphazardly and stickily across the tussled silk sheets, his pillows watched the heavy, dark door close behind him.  They missed him already.