Helen stood at the edge of the road, the harsh neon lights of the city casting an ethereal glow over her delicate features. Her auburn hair cascaded in soft waves down her back, catching the light and shimmering like liquid gold. Her skin was porcelain smooth, with a hint of rose at her cheeks, and her eyes, a deep, captivating blue, seemed to glow out of her eyeballs.
She wore a simple, yet elegant dress that hugged her lithe, ballerina frame, emphasizing her grace and poise. Even in stillness, there was a fluidity to her, a testament to years of disciplined training and unyielding passion for the art that had shaped her body and spirit even though she was only in her mid-twenties. Her posture was confident, shoulders back, head held high as if she were about to step onto a stage rather than wait for a car on the dimly lit street.
Helen glanced at her watch, the slim silver band glinting under the streetlight. The air was cool, carrying a faint hint of the ocean from the nearby coast, and she could hear the distant hum of the city that never quite slept. Despite the late hour, her mind was alert, her thoughts sharp. She was acutely aware of her surroundings, a habit formed from the necessity of the times.
She might live in a time when women's rights had been reduced to a shadow of their former selves but that didn't titter with her confidence which stood out like a beacon of resistance. She was a ballerina, yes, but there was nothing flexible about her character, a woman who would not let the world dictate her spirit.
"Why is he wasting my time?" Helen wondered, her patience wearing thin. She was waiting for Peter Jost, the man she had been secretly seeing for the past month. Peter was no ordinary man; he was a state senator, and his wife held even more power as the Speaker of the National Senate.
Their paths had crossed unexpectedly one late afternoon as Helen was closing her ballet studio. Peter had driven past, his car slowing as he noticed her graceful figure locking the doors. Something about her had caught his attention, compelling him to turn around and introduce himself. The memory of that first encounter was still vivid in Helen’s mind.
"Good evening," he had said, stepping out of his sleek, black sedan. "I'm Peter Jost."
Helen had looked up, surprised by the unexpected visitor. "Good evening," she had replied, her voice calm despite the curiosity that flickered in her eyes. "I know exactly who you are. You are a senator."
Peter smiled as those words flowed out of her lips, his position as a renowned politician made it easier for him with women. All he had to do was say Hi, and every girl smiled sheepishly for him.
"Oh, that's lovely. So what's your name, pretty lady," the senator asked her as he put his hands up for a handshake.
Helen was a smart girl and she knew immediately what was going on, coupling the rumors she heard about the senator's Casanova nature with the news of his wife, the speaker of the senate, being out of the country visiting a war-torn Taiwan.
"My name is Helen. Nice to meet you," she replied as her hand met his for a handshake.
The senator ran his thumb over the back of her palms and felt her soft hands before kissing her hand and releasing the hold.
"Nice to meet you too," Peter said with a boyish grin on his face. "You are one beautiful young lady and now I just have to get your number. So if you don't mind."
The Senator handed her his phone which she accepted and put in her number with no hesitation. "I need to leave now, I'm already late for an emergency session, I will call you later," he said and hopped back into his car and she watched him ride into the traffic.
Helen recalled how persistent Peter had been over the past month. Despite his demanding schedule, he had made time to see her, showering her with attention and charm. He would send her flowers, invite her to dinners at secluded restaurants, and even attend some of her performances. Yet, Helen had played hard to get, aware of the power dynamics at play.
Peter's interest was flattering, but Helen knew better than to dive headfirst into an affair with a married man, especially one as politically prominent as Peter Jost. She saw a fantastic opportunity not just for a romantic fling but for a significant shift in her own life. If Peter could be convinced to divorce his wife and marry her, Helen imagined herself in the spotlight, the media frenzy painting her as the woman who captured the heart of the state senator and dethroned the Speaker of the National Senate. This was her best shot at fame in a world that treated women like fame, if the senator wasn't married then he might have fucked her by now whether she wanted him or not. This was a world where a man as powerful as he was could rape her and easily get away with it but since he was married to arguably the most powerful woman in the country he was restrained just because of who he was married to.
Helen had set her terms clearly from the beginning. "If you want this to go any further, you need to divorce your wife and marry me," she had told him one evening, her voice steady and unwavering.
Peter had looked taken aback at first but soon realized she was serious. Over the next few weeks, he had doubled his efforts, trying to convince her of his genuine affection. Helen, while enjoying the attention, remained firm. She was acutely aware of the power she held and was determined to use it to her advantage.
In her flashback, Helen could still see the determination in Peter’s eyes as he promised to make the necessary arrangements. The allure of power and the promise of a new, influential life kept her steadfast in her demands.
Helen's flashback was interrupted as Peter's car pulled up and the window wound down. "Get in," Peter said, his voice gentle yet urgent.
Helen crossed her arms, a frown creasing her forehead. "You're late," she snapped, her anger evident.
Peter gave her a contrite look. "I know, and I'm sorry," he said, his tone soothing. "Traffic was a nightmare, and there were some last-minute calls I had to take."
Helen hesitated for a moment, then sighed and got into the car. As they drove through the city, the tension in her shoulders slowly eased. Peter reached over, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
They entered an expensive neighborhood, the streets lined with grand houses and perfectly manicured lawns. Helen glanced around, her curiosity piqued. "Where are we going?" she asked.
Peter gave her a sidelong glance, a slight smile playing on his lips. "We're going to my home."
Helen's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you crazy? Do you want your wife to hang me?"
Peter chuckled softly. "Do you remember that tonight is election night? My wife is at the party headquarters with all her staff. The house is empty except for the security."
Helen stared at him, processing his words. The idea of being in Peter's home, a place she had only imagined, was thrilling and terrifying at the same time. The risk was enormous, but so was the opportunity. She took a deep breath, deciding to trust Peter's judgment for the moment. After all, it could be her future house if Peter went through with the divorce.
"Alright," she said, her voice steady. "Let's go."
As Peter drove through the affluent neighborhood, Helen took a moment to study him. Peter was in his early forties but still looked remarkably fit. His dark hair, peppered with a few strands of silver, framed a face that had aged gracefully. His strong jawline and the faint lines around his eyes only added to his distinguished appearance, giving him an air of maturity that complemented his natural charm.
Peter had been in politics since his early thirties. Back then, he had been a rising star, with an easy smile and a magnetic personality that drew people to him effortlessly. Lots of girls had massive crushes on him, captivated by his charisma and the promise of a bright future. He had charmed his way into winning his first political office, and his career had only ascended from there.
Even now, a decade later, Peter retained much of that charm. His eyes, a deep, engaging brown, sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief. His confident demeanor and the way he carried himself spoke volumes about his enduring appeal. He dressed impeccably, the tailored suit he wore tonight highlighting his athletic build, a testament to the discipline he maintained despite the demands of his career.
As the car moved smoothly through the streets, Helen couldn't help but admire the man beside her. Peter's dedication to his political career had not diminished his allure. He was still the charismatic, compelling figure who had once won over a city and now, in some ways, had won over her too.
"You're really taking me to your home," she murmured, a mix of incredulity and excitement in her voice.
Peter glanced at her, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Yes, I am. Trust me, Helen, everything will be fine."
They approached a grand, wrought-iron gate, and Peter honked the horn. The gate swung open slowly, revealing a long, tree-lined driveway. Peter drove in, and as they moved forward, Helen's eyes widened at the sight before her.
The house was nothing short of magnificent. An expansive, three-story mansion stood at the end of the driveway, its elegant facade illuminated by strategically placed lights. The architecture was a blend of classical and modern styles, with tall, arched windows, intricate stonework, and a sweeping staircase leading up to the main entrance. Manicured gardens flanked the path, with meticulously trimmed hedges and vibrant flower beds adding splashes of color.
Peter parked the car, and they stepped out into the cool night air. As they walked towards the entrance, Helen couldn't help but be even more impressed. The interior of the house was just as opulent. High ceilings adorned with crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, and tastefully arranged artwork greeted her eyes. The décor was sophisticated yet inviting, a testament to the wealth and status of its occupant
Helen marveled at the luxurious surroundings. She had always dreamed of a life filled with such affluence, and now, it felt tantalizingly within reach. The possibility of having all this—living in such a grand house, surrounded by beauty and luxury—sparked a thrill within her. If she could get Peter to divorce his wife and marry her, all this could be hers.
As they walked through the elegantly decorated rooms, Helen couldn't shake the feeling of awe. The spacious living room with its plush furniture, the grand piano in the corner, the dining room with its long, polished table set for many guests—it was all a far cry from her modest apartment and ballet studio.
Peter turned to her, a smile playing on his lips as he watched her reaction. "What do you think?" he asked, his voice tinged with pride.
Helen met his gaze, her mind racing with the possibilities. "It's incredible," she said honestly, unable to hide her amazement.
Peter took her hand, leading her further into the house. "I'm glad you like it," he said. "Tonight, it's just us. We have the whole place to ourselves."
Helen followed him, her heart pounding with excitement and ambition, she didn't plan on fucking him this night but now the sheer wealth before her eyes made her reconsider.
"I'm going to fuck him tonight," she declared. Helen had always likened her pussy to a black widow spider because she used sex to keep men coming back for more, they always wanted another chance at her pussy after they fucked. She wondered if she could truly make this life her own. The prospect of such power and prestige was intoxicating, and she resolved to do whatever it took to make it a reality.
Helen's mind was made up, she was going to fuck Peter Jost in his house and when he wanted more she was going to twist the knife and make him divorce his wife. This was her chance for a Balanced life.
She turned to him and gave him her most seductive look and he knew immediately that he was finally going to get lucky tonight.
He held her hands and led her to the dining in silence. All he could hear right now were his lust-filled thoughts, he couldn't wait to get her out of her clothes. Helen looked up at his face and the smile had disappeared and was replaced with the look of a hunting animal about to strike its prey. He grabbed Helen by the waist and kissed her while his hands firmly grabbed her butt.
The room was filled with the sounds of their lips smacking against each other. As they kissed their way all over to the mahogany dining table, they finally stopped moving around the room like two fighting hens. He unzipped her dress and squeezed her breast which was still held in her red bra.
Helen just couldn't wait to have him working on her breasts, she pulled her lips away and gently pushed him away from her. With one swift movement, Helen unhooked her bra and pulled his face right to the succulent tits.
Her boobs were shaped like two firm mounds next to each other and her hard nipples gave them a surging peak. Peter's mouth went straight to her left boobs attacking them as if they had wronged him, his left hand was fixated on Helen's left nipple as he gently squeezed and turned from left to right.
"Oh please don't stop keep going" Helen whispered continuously to Peter. Peter welcomed her encouragement as he started alternating between sucking each boob. Each moan she released gave extra life to his already hard cock. Helen's pussy was so wet; the juice was almost dripping out. She moved her hands to his zippers and unzipped them, giving his rock-hard cock some needed space. Helen gave his cock a hard pull and Peter let out a soft moan.
"It's been awaiting your touch," said Peter; his dick had been hard since he picked her up. As she began to stroke his cock even hard, he reciprocated them on her breasts. The sound of two adults softly moaning was all they could hear. Helen couldn't wait to know how much of that cock she could fit into her mouth.
As soon as her hands went to his balls, Peter let out a sound resembling that of a wounded lion. He stopped fondling her breast and adjusted his body to give her full control. Helen held his dick, pulled him closed, and gave him a peck on the lips.
"It's my turn now," Helen whispered as softly as the wind. She pushed him away and rotated their positions. As she got on her knees, she left soft kisses on his nipples. Now his cock was in full view and directly above her face, it was about 7 and a half inches with veins. She liked what she saw, as his dick's girth was almost as wide as her arm.
Helen went straight for his balls, grabbing both and putting each in her mouth alternatively. She didn't care as Peter groaned with pleasure. Peter felt as if she was trying to swallow his ball as he closed his eyes enjoying the show. Helen could feel his testicles coming closer and she looked up to see a few drops of cum dripping on her face.
She used her tongue to lick the drops of cum and then without using any hand swallowed his penis. The girth of his dick stretched her jaws and she would definitely feel the pains in the morning but she didn't mind. Helen was acting like a woman possessed, moving her head back and forth till she felt his dick at the back of her throat. No woman had ever made him feel this way, deep throating his enormous cock was no easy task and he knew it.
Peter held her head and guided her pace and movement. The noise of Helen choking on his cock was all he could feel in his eardrum, he had roughed up her well-kept hair. Helen suddenly felt Peter's hand forcing her throat deeper onto his cock, she could swear that his cook had reached her chest. Peter held her head and pushed his cock deep into her mouth until she struggled for breath and pushed him away.
Peter pulled her up from her knees and laid her back on the dining table with her legs in the air. He removed her undies and threw them up in the air. Peter could feel how wet her pussy was as he spread her legs apart.
Helen let out a soft moan as he inserted his middle finger into her tight pussy, his finger slowly moving back and forth in different directions around her pussy walls. Peter couldn't believe how wet she was, he knew how much her pussy was throbbing for his cock but he was going to make her wait a little bit more. He fully removed his middle finger and this time around returned with two fingers with a much faster rhythm. Every time his fingers returned he could hear her moans get louder and her pussy walls tighten.
Peter ran his left index finger over her clitoris and watched as she held onto the tables. Helen had never experienced an orgasm before but she definitely knew that she was close to one. She felt herself losing control of her body as he continued working on her clit and pussy. Her body kept reacting to his touch and now felt her waist keep trying to run from him.
Peter removed his fingers from her pussy, and adjusted his position to stand directly over her waist and overlook her pussy. He put both hands at the base of her thighs and arched his shoulder to put his tongue on her clitoris. Her body kept trying to move away from him as he held her down by her thighs. His tongue kept flicking her clit in a circular motion and occasionally touching the pussy walls.
Helen clenched her fist as her body began quivering in orgasm. He held her thighs more firmly as she was shaking uncontrollably. Peter stood up straight and started stroking his cock, he wanted to keep licking her out but his dick couldn’t wait anymore.
Helen let out a quick scream as Peter's dick slid into her moist pussy. He kept on slipping his cock in for a second and quickly removing it. Peter knew her pussy was top tier, as she kept on building pace sliding his dick in and out. Helen could feel her vagina walls stretching as they adjusted to the size of his monstrous cock. Peter suddenly pushed his dick as deep as he could into her pussy and began pounding her pussy passionately.
He kept thrusting in and out with force, almost as if a wild beast had taken control of him. Helen felt all seven and a half inches of his penis drive into her with force, and she let out a loud yell as she felt a scorching pain run up to her brain.
After 20 minutes of unstopped ramming, Peter could feel her squirt building up. Helen felt herself quivering once more and immediately he pulled out his cock, she looked up to see her pussy squirting all over. Helen had only come across this level of sex experience in the pages of erotic books. Her body was tired from pleasure and her pussy still shivered from the orgasm she just had.
"Stand up," Peter said as assisted her to get up from the mahogany dining table. Helen stood close to him and ran her hands over his broad chest resting on his nipples. She stood on her toes, looked into his eyes, and kissed him. Helen felt his dick and remembered that he was yet to cum.
"Get on your knees love. I have waited a whole month for this and I am going to give you my best," Helen heard. She had barely from the pounding she had just experienced. As much as she pitied her pussy, she just couldn't resist experiencing all that one more time. Helen nodded her head as she received his instruction. She slowly turned around and pressed her ass firmly against his body. Helen slowly moved down to her knees with her butt pressed against him and felt him shake as her ass went across his dick. Helen got on her knees, bent her neck, and arched her back.
The second Peter saw the arch on Helen's back, he knew he couldn't hold himself much longer. She just lay on the floor, inviting him to the pussy with a heavenly arch on her back. Peter knelt behind and ran his fingers delicately over her vagina opening. He used his hands to direct his huge dick straight into the waiting walls of her warm vagina. Peter put both hands on her waist and began her pussy with all the force he could muster.
Helen let out a loud scream as she felt the full impact of his penis. She could feel the dick at her stomach as it pushed her pussy boundaries. The sound of Helen's ass being slapped by Peter's waist as he thrust to and fro, combined with Helen's screams could be heard by someone within a fifty meters radius. Peter could feel how close he was and increased his speed as he noticed Helen began squirting, he was impressed at the way she maintained the arch on her back even while screaming.
Helen's pussy walls began closing and gripping more tightly to Peter's cock. Peter closed his eyes trying to delay himself from cumming but with every powerful thrust he took, the pussy gripped harder onto his cock. he rammed into her pussy one more time and watched as she fell on the floor, shaking and squealing with delight. Peter held her down and poured his seed on her back as he moaned almost as loud as she did.
Helen could feel his sperm on her back; she was still convulsing from the orgasm she just experienced. her pussy still spasmed randomly as if it had a mind of its own. She could feel Peter lying in front of her, drawing her into an embrace. She opened her eyes and saw him breathing heavily; he still looked like he could go for one more round. She looked up and saw her undies on the chandelier, she smiled
"Oh, sweetie," Peter whispered to her. "I thought I had lost my energy with age but it seems all I needed was the right woman."
"Well, this is all for you until you make the right choice," Helen replied.
The soft morning light filtered through the large windows of the kitchen, casting a warm glow over the room. Helen and Peter sat on the floor, they were still both stark naked from last night. Peter turned to her, his eyes full of affection and gratitude.
"Thank you for last night, Helen," he said, his voice sincere. "It was the night of my life."
Peter could feel the blood rushing back to his cock as he stared at her naked body and he leaned in to kiss her, but Helen pulled back, placing a firm hand on his chest. "Stop touching me," she said, her tone resolute.
Peter looked confused and a little hurt. "What do you mean?" he asked, his brow furrowing.
Helen met his gaze, her expression unwavering. "You know exactly what I mean, Peter," she said. "You need to leave your wife before we do anything else. Last night should be enough motivation for you to leave that national bitch you are married to. Does she even give you attention at all?"
Peter sighed, leaning back on the floor "Helen, you know it's complicated," he began, but she cut him off.
"No more excuses, Peter," she said sharply. "You promised me. If you want this to continue, you need to do what you said you would."
"Just give me a little more time. Please I will divorce her just for you," Peter pleaded. "For now I really want you. My cock is hard for you, baby. I want to fuck you even harder than I did yesterday or maybe even a blow job from you would be nice. Please I just want you. A feet job. A boob job. Anything. I just want my cock in you."
Helen knew now she had him exactly where she wanted, desperate and willing to do anything just to get more of her. She was born in a society where women's rights were declining every day and she had to be really crafty to secure her place in the society.
She stood up and Peter followed suit, standing so close to her that she could feel his cock brushing against her legs.
"Oh come on, baby." He continued his pleas. "You can't just leave my cock hanging this way. You know if I was married to a woman who was not as powerful as my wife I would have done anything I wanted to you and suffer no repercussions at all."
"You don't have to tell me. I'm aware of the backward society people like you and your wife have created and I'm just trying to look out for myself." Helen said.
Peter remained quiet seeing as she had seemingly made up her mind. "Don't worry, all you have to do is divorce that wannabe dictator you call your wife."
She pecked his chin and turned around gracefully. "Now I need to put on my clothes and head out."
He remained quiet with his hard cock pointing straight at the ballerina watching her beautiful body. Helen seemed list as she looked all over for her clothes.
"Peter, I can't seem to find my undies," she said to him, "I have found the rest of my clothes but I can't find my undies. Do you have any idea where I can find them?”
"I don't know but I can help you search."
Helen and Peter began searching the kitchen for a missing piece of Helen's clothing. They looked around the room, moving aside chairs and checking under the table. Helen's eyes finally landed on her missing underwear —a delicate piece of lingerie—hanging precariously from the chandelier.
"Oh, that's where we threw it yesterday night. I remember seeing it just before I slept off."
Just as she reached up to retrieve it, the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. Helen froze, her heart pounding. The door to the kitchen swung open, and Michelle, Peter's wife and the Speaker of the National Senate walked in.
Her eyes immediately locked onto the scene before her—A naked Peter standing beside a disheveled naked Helen, reaching up to the chandelier. A wave of shock and anger crossed her face.
"What is going on in here?" Michelle demanded, her voice icy and commanding.
Peter stepped forward, his face a mask of calm, though his eyes betrayed his panic. "Michelle, I can explain," he began, but she cut him off with a sharp gesture.
"Explain? Do you think you can explain this? You are both butt naked," she hissed, her eyes darting between him and Helen. "Who is she?"
Helen quickly lowered her arm, holding her breath as she faced the formidable woman before her. She could feel the weight of Michelle's scrutiny, the anger radiating off her in waves.
Peter swallowed hard, his mind racing to find the right words. "Michelle, this is Helen. We were just... talking," he said, the weak explanation sounding hollow even to his own ears.
Michelle's eyes narrowed. "Talking?" she repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what exactly were you talking about at this hour, without your clothes?"
Helen straightened, meeting Michelle's gaze with a mixture of defiance and fear. "We didn't do anything, Ma," she said, her voice steady despite the tension. "We were just discussing but it seems we've been interrupted."
"You were talking?" Michelle screamed. "Have you seen how hard this fool's cock is? How could you cheat on me, Peter? After all, I have done for your miserable political career."
"I told you we did nothing, ma'am," Helen responded defiantly.
Michelle’s eyes blazed with fury as she turned her full attention to Helen. “Lying to me?” she screamed. “Do you have any idea who I am? How dare you come into my house and be with my husband! Are you not scared of me?”
Helen stood her ground, though her heart raced. The power and rage emanating from Michelle were almost palpable, but she refused to show any fear.
Before Helen could respond, Michelle’s scream echoed through the house. “Security!”
Within moments, two burly security guards burst into the kitchen. Michelle pointed a trembling finger at Helen. “lock her in the chambers. Now!”
The guards moved swiftly, grabbing Helen by the arms. She struggled briefly but knew it was futile. She cast a quick glance at Peter, who looked torn and helpless, his attempts to calm his wife falling on deaf ears.
"Your life as you know it is over. I promise you that. You will see just how powerful I am." Michelle barked.
Helen managed to break one hand free and attempted to punch the Speaker but she was stopped as the guard quickly recovered. The other guard delivered a heavy punch to the already subdued Helen which left her unconscious, the last thing the young gymnast heard was the speaker making threats before she slept.
Helen opened her eyes slowly, the harsh fluorescent lights above her making her squint. She felt a dull, throbbing pain throughout her body, especially her chest, and tried to use her hands to help herself sit up, but something was wrong. Panic surged through her as she glanced down and realized her arms were missing. Both her arms were gone.
A piercing scream tore from her throat, echoing through the sterile hospital room. The door burst open, and a nurse rushed in, her face a mixture of concern and urgency.
The nurse moved quickly to her side, trying to calm her. "It's alright, you're in the hospital. You've been through a tough procedure, but you're safe now," she said gently.
Helen's breathing came in ragged gasps as she stared at the empty spaces where her arms should have been. "My arms... What happened to my arms?" she wailed.
"Calm down, I will explain," the nurse said, trying her best to get the ballerina under control.
The ballerina looked down at her chest and saw that she couldn't recognize her pointy firm chest anymore.
"Oh please don't tell me that-" Helen started before interrupting herself. "Get me a mirror now."
The nurse nodded and wheeled over a mirror. Helen gasped when she saw herself. Suddenly Helen let out another huge scream that could have been heard from the next building. She was horrified by the look on her face.
“What did you do to my boobs?” Helen shouted at the nurse
When Helen last checked, her chest measured a pleasant 32D, so when she looked down, she was shocked. She could now feel the bandages pressing against her skin and the material of her gown pulling tightly about her chest. But instead of the boobs she had anticipated, she suddenly saw two gigantic, perfectly spherical shapes that blocked her vision of the rest of her body. It appeared as though two enormous, over-pumped basketballs had been concealed behind her garment.
"Why? Tell me why?" The young ballerina sobbed. "I never asked for this. Who did this to me?"
The nurse's expression grew even more somber as she looked into Helen's tear-filled eyes. "They had to cut off your arms because of Michelle's commands," she said quietly, a hint of guilt in her voice.
Helen's eyes widened in disbelief and horror. "What gives Michelle the authority to do such a thing?" She demanded, her voice shaking with a mix of rage and despair.
Just as the nurse was about to respond, the door swung open, and Michelle walked in, a huge, mocking laugh echoing through the room. Her presence filled the space with a cold, oppressive air.
"Ah, Helen," Michelle said. Her tone dripped with condescension. "I see you're awake. I hope you are comfortable."
Helen glared at her, fury burning in her eyes. "You did this to me," she spat. "How could you? What gives you the right?"
Michelle stepped closer, her laugh subsiding into a cruel smile. "The right?" She repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Power, my dear. Power and the need to send a clear message. No one crosses me or my family and gets away with it."
Helen's breathing increased, her anger and fear blending into a potent mix. "You won't get away with this," she said through gritted teeth.
Michelle sat down down close on the bed with Helen, looked her in the eye, and with a smug look on her face she began. "In case you are unaware, my party just won the presidential election and the national assembly. We now control the presidency, the Senate, and the House of Representatives. Since you were undergoing your surgery, we have confirmed Supreme Court justices and more. I have news for you"
The speaker took a second before she continued, nonchalantly clearing her throat. "You are now officially my slave."
Those words sounded like a hammer to the skull of the young ballerina. She knew how bad the society was for women but to say she was a slave sounded so dystopian to her.
"I can never be your slave." Helen barked in her cracked voice.
Michelle cackled loudly smacking her hand on the bed. "You think you could never be a slave? Bitch you are my slave now. Let me explain."
Helen had nothing to say, all she could do was listen as the Speaker continued. "You see you have been under anesthesia for a month now. In that short time, we won the election and my party passed some necessary bills. HB 2114, which passed one week ago revokes the rights of women and now sluts like you are just objects in the hands of men."
"Why? Why? How could you do such a thing? Have you forgotten that you are also a woman? How could you be so heartless?" Helen asked.
"Because that's the way it should be, in the good old days, all women had to do was stay at home and make children and take care of their husbands when they got home, they were not allowed to work or even vote. But then we made the greatest mistake in our nation's history in giving all women the same rights as men. Why should a bitch like you who stretched her pussy in the name of ballet have the same rights as me who have spent my whole life busting my ass just to get to this level. My party is all about restoring this great country back to its glory days and we have control over all the levers of government. Believe me, we will spare no effort to push this country on the pedestal where it deserves to be," Michelle rambled.
"How do women being slaves help your cause? You could have just prevented women from working or something." Helen cried out.
"I know," The Speaker replied nonchalantly. "At first we wanted to restrict women from voting and working unless you are hardworking and powerful like me. However, that fateful morning when I walked in on Peter's cock standing and the two of you butt naked in my kitchen I decided that I needed to do more so I amended the bill and made sure I could legally own hoes like you."
Helen tried to punch the speaker, moving the left part of her body up towards Michelle but all she succeeded in doing was getting her new massive breasts to jiggle. That's when it dawned on her, she was really armless now and the property of the speaker of the country who hated her.
"Did you really think you were going to get Peter to divorce me?" Michelle asked with a smirk on her face.
Helen couldn't answer all she could produce was tears. "Everything Peter is today is because of me and I could easily bring him down if I wanted to. Peter is nothing more than a womanizer who I needed to secure power. You should actually be proud of yourself. You are the first slave of the modern era, this is your reward for trying to punch me and steal my husband. Now let's see how you can attempt to Punch me anymore"
Michelle paused for a few minutes as Helen sobbed. The more Helen comprehended her situation the more she cried. This was worse than a nightmare, her quest for a Balanced life had led her to the worst possible future.
"Now, slave. It's time to go home. We have the media and paparazzi all outside to witness the first legally owned slave of this era." Mitchell announced.
"No, no, no, no." Helen cried. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Oh, you are. Guards…" Mitchell called and in a few seconds, three able-bodied guards walked in. "Carry her away. We have a press conference downstairs."
The guards picked Helen up as she screamed relentlessly, both guards held her up while the nurse wore her an overall which covered up her amputated arms, and her new boobs stuck out just a little.
"Let's go," Michelle commanded as they walked out the door.
Michelle walked briskly down the hospital corridor, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Behind her, Helen struggled to keep up, each step a painful reminder of her new reality. The guards flanked her closely, ensuring she followed Michelle without hesitation. The bandages around her amputated arms were fresh, the pain raw and unrelenting. As they approached the entrance, the noise of the waiting press grew louder.
The hospital doors swung open, and a sea of cameras and reporters came into view. The flash of bulbs was blinding, the cacophony of shouted questions deafening. Michelle paused at the entrance, allowing the full spectacle to unfold before addressing the crowd.
"Good morning, everyone," Michelle began, her voice strong and authoritative. She turned slightly, revealing Helen, who stood behind her. The guards moved to the side, leaving Helen fully visible to the eager press.
"Ladies and gentlemen, today we witness a story of incredible resilience," Michelle said, her tone taking on a mock solemnity. "This is Helen, today she makes history as the first slave of the modern era. She is the first slave of the HB 2114 bill signed two weeks ago and now she is legally owned by my husband and I."
Mitchell stripped the overall and revealed a new naked body to the media, Helen's massive boobs bounced for the camera while her arms twitched back and front.
With a theatrical flourish, Michelle stepped aside, unveiling Helen to the crowd. The reporters surged forward, their cameras capturing every agonizing detail of Helen's condition. She stood there, her heart pounding, the humiliation washing over her in waves as the flashes went off incessantly, the beautiful ballerina stood naked as the world watched her stark naked boobs and amputated hands.
"Welcome to the new era," The Speaker declared as she ended the press conference. The press conference ended, and the black limousine glided away from the hospital, carrying Michelle, Helen, and a single guard. Inside the luxurious vehicle, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Michelle sat back, a self-satisfied smile on her face, occasionally breaking into laughter that cut through the silence like a knife. Helen, on the other hand, sat beside her, her eyes red and puffy from tears, silent sobs shaking her fragile frame.
As the cityscape passed by outside the tinted windows, Helen's mind raced. She replayed the events that had led her to this point, questioning every decision, every step that had brought her here. She had only wanted a better life, a chance to escape the monotony and constraints of her world by following Senator Peter.
Helen’s thoughts turned to Peter. Despite everything, she clung to the belief that he would save her.
"He loves me," she whispered to herself, barely audible over the hum of the engine. "He will find a way to save me."
Michelle's laughter rang out again, sharp and cruel. Helen glanced at her, hatred and fear mingling in her eyes. Michelle noticed her look and smirked, leaning closer.
Helen swallowed hard, trying to push down the rising tide of despair. She had to hold on to hope, however faint it might be. Peter had resources and influence. He could still find a way to help her. She had to believe that.
They walked into the opulent mansion, its grandeur doing little to soothe the turmoil within Helen. The polished marble floors and crystal chandeliers seemed to mock her, a stark contrast to her internal desolation. Michelle led the way with an air of authority, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor.
Once inside, they met a man with tattoos and another woman with both looking like 90's rock stars.
"Now you will get a new hairdo, bitch." The speaker said.
"A hairdo? You are not touching my hair." Helen screamed and tried to run but as she ran out of the door she came back screaming as two guards dragged her back.
"I won't. Please I won't. I won't ahhhh." Helen's pleas were interrupted by a whip which landed heavily on her back. She screamed out in pain as she felt the impact of the whip by the speaker on her back which touched part of her newly cut arm.
"Now, bitch. Lay flat on your stomach." Michelle commanded and her order was followed by another thunderous lash.
"Ahhh. Please. Stop. Stop. It's too much." Helen pleaded. Her cries echoed through the room.
For a minute the beating subsided and Michelle let Helen cry out. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I won't do it again. I won't come close to Peter ever again. Please just let me. I'm sorry."
The tears flowed from her eyes onto her neck, to her breasts, her new humongous breasts didn't let the tears flow through them, rather her tears flowed through the sides of her breasts onto her stomach.
"That's good. See we are making progress. Now, just lay on the chair so we can give you a hairstyle befitting your nature." Michelle said calmly this time although with a mocking voice.
Helen could barely say anything, she felt madame speaker's calm voice was a sign of her changing her mind. "I beg you, madame speaker, I will never wrong you again, please just let me-"
Whip. Crack. That was the sound Helen heard before she felt the whip on her back once more. "Ahh." She screamed.
"Please, sto-" Helen cried and got flogged again.
Whip. Whip. Whip. Whip.
Michelle was unrelenting now, she was swinging the whip back and forth without remorse. It was as if she would never stop, all everyone around the house could hear was the sound of a whip landing on Helen's back and the screams that followed the impact.
Whip. Whip. Whip. Whip. Whip
Helen couldn't resist anymore, she ran towards the seat, massive breasts shaking all over the place as Mitchell pursued whipping angrily. As she lay on the seat, Mitchell delivered three more whips onto the back of the young ballerina who could just cry now.
"Did it have to be that hard?" Mitchell panted as she asked Helen who lay on the seat crying loudly. "In case you are still unable to comprehend the severity of your situation, let me spell it out for you. You are a slave now and every disobedience will come with a punishment from my whip."
Helen's body trembled as she lay back. The hairdressers moved in, their hands practiced and precise as they began to work on her hair while Mitchell left the room.
Helen's eyes flooded with tears, the pain of her situation manifesting in silent sobs. As the hairdressers chatted and worked, she could feel the pull of the brush and the sting of the dye, her tears mixing with the chemicals and dripping onto the couch. The male hairdresser, with his bleach-blond spikes and leather jacket, pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, while the female, sporting vibrant makeup and a neon crop top, meticulously applied the red dye.
"Please forgive me," Helen whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the hairdryer. The hairdressers ignored her, continuing their work with professional detachment.
The process seemed to drag on forever, each minute an eternity of silent suffering. Finally, the hairdressers stepped back, admiring their work. Helen’s hair was pulled into a severe ponytail, dyed a striking, unnatural red that contrasted sharply with her tear-streaked face.
Helen sat up slowly, her head heavy and throbbing. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and felt a wave of nausea. She looked like a stranger, her natural beauty masked by the garish, forced transformation.
"Perfect," Michelle said as she walked into the room, clapping her hands once. "Now you look the part."
Helen looked away from the mirror in disgust, she couldn't accept her new image. She could accept that the once proud, beautiful ballerina was nothing but a slave at the mercy of Michelle and Peter.
"Remember, Helen," Michelle said, her voice low and menacing. "This is only the beginning. The sooner you accept your place, the easier it will be for you. Now it's time for you to look the part."
"Guard," Michelle screamed and a guard appeared in seconds. "Go and get me the bag in the dungeon."
After a few minutes, the guard returned with a bag and placed the bag right in front of Mitchell. The speaker opened the bag and pulled out a pair of white high heels with white socks, red panties, and a red spike collar.
"Now this will be your new attire. You will dress like this every single time whether you are tasked with attending to the visitors or cleaning up the house, every single time.”
"You cut off my hands," Helen cried out. ""How do you expect me to perform any task or do anything?"
Mitchell tuned out her maniacal laugh. "Oh, sweetie, you will be doing a lot. Now put these on so we can head to the dungeon.”
Helen didn't know how to put on her clothes without hands but she knew she had to try or she would have another round of whip all over her back.
She picked up the red panties with her toenails and used her flexibility to Maneuver into the panties to the awe of Mitchell and the guard.
"Impressive," Mitchell exclaimed.
It was like a show for them as they watched Helen getting into her new clothes without any help. Helen used her left toes to pick up a sock and after much work, she succeeded in forcing her right leg into the sock. She was exhausted but the fear of the whip kept her going. She picked up the other sock and used her right leg to wear the sock on her left leg.
Mitchell and the guard were both thoroughly impressive. "Keep going. That's good." Mitchell complimented her.
Helen had no idea how she was going to put on the heels but still, she had to try. She put her right foot on the left heel and tried balancing her weight, but as she tried to stand up straight, her right leg slid forward and she fell down.
This time there was a different reaction from Mitchell and the guard as they both burst out laughing. Helen could feel a fresh wave of shame climbing her body and she felt like she wanted the ground to open up and swallow her.
Mitchell just couldn't stop laughing even when she signaled the guard to help her up and assist her in dressing. The guard helped Helen with the heels and wore the red spike collar over the young ballerina's neck.
"You are the worst ballerina I have ever seen." Mitchell mocked Helen in between her laugh. "Maybe if you spent less time trying to snatch my husband then you might have practiced more and become a better ballerina."
Helen looked down trying to see the rest of her body but her gigantic breasts blocked her view downward, reminded of her current deformity, she decided against looking at herself in the mirror.
"Oh, now you are looking the part," Mitchell said before picking up the mirror and facing Helen. "Here now look at yourself."
Helen closed her eyes. "I look horrible, please I can't see myself this way. Please."
"Do we really have to do this again?" Mitchell asked. She was still a bit sore from the previous lashing she gave to Helen, so she pointed at the guard and asked him to pick up the whip.
Helen still had her eyes closed trying to avoid the mirror when she felt another painful whip on her, the guard was much stronger than Michelle so these lashes were much more painful.
"Ahhhhhhhhhh," Helen screamed and she had to open her eyes in pain. She looked at the guard and pleaded with him.
"If you don't want another lash, then you better look in your mirror." Michelle barked.
"I can't see myself, ma'am." Helen cried out. "I look disgusting, please don't make me do this."
"Okay then. Whip her again. Keep whipping her until she looks at the mirror." Michelle commanded the guard.
"Please stop. Plea-" Helen begged but her pleas came with one more lash which stung her whole back and still found its way onto her left nipple.
Helen screamed out like a baby as the whip landed on her breast, jumping up and down like a baby.
"Okay. Okay. Stop. I will look in the mirror." She turned towards Michelle and looked at the mirror.
Helen could only see a completely different person, she looked like a cheap prostitute with an excessive boobjob, only that she looked worse because she had no arms. A cheap armless slut.
She looked at Mitchell but the speaker motioned for her to keep looking at the mirror. Tears flowed from the young ballerina's eyes as she stared at herself in the mirror. She had always been the most beautiful girl in all her social gatherings since she was an infant. The picture before her was a far cry from the beautiful ballerina who dazzled men with her performances on the stage.
"You see the reward for messing with me? Now you have a look that matches with your character." Mitchell mocked the already broken Helen. "Now let's head down to the dungeon."
Michelle led the way, followed by Helen, and then the guard was behind them all. Michelle led Helen down a narrow, winding staircase into the bowels of the mansion. The air grew colder and damper with each step, and the dim lighting cast eerie shadows on the stone walls. Helen's heart pounded in her chest as they descended deeper, a sense of dread filling her with every echoing footfall.
At the bottom of the stairs, they reached a heavy wooden door reinforced with iron. Michelle produced a key from her pocket and unlocked it with a sinister smile. She pushed the door open, revealing a dungeon that looked like something out of a medieval nightmare. The room was dimly lit by flickering torches, casting ominous shadows on the walls lined with chains and various torture devices.
"This," Michelle said, her voice cold and devoid of empathy, "is where we bring senators from my party when they disobey. We record their sessions to ensure compliance and loyalty. It's quite effective."
Helen's eyes widened in horror as she took in the grim scene. Iron shackles hung from the walls, and an array of cruel instruments lay on a table: whips, knives, and other devices designed for pain. The air was thick with the scent of fear and despair.
"But for now," Michelle continued, turning to Helen with a cruel smile, "this will be your new room."
Helen's legs gave way, and she collapsed to the cold stone floor, her body trembling uncontrollably. "Why are you doing this? Isn't this too much" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.
Michelle knelt beside her, lifting Helen's chin with a finger. "Because you need to learn your place, Helen. And because I can."
"Turn on the camera and get me your belt when you are done.." Michelle commanded the guard who quickly obeyed.
"Now bend over the bench over there with your feet on one side and your head touching the floor on the other side." Mitchell turned her attention back to Helen.
A few seconds went by and Helen was slowly turning towards the bench with tears dripping down her eyes once more.
"Or do you want Phil here to give you the same lashes he gave to you back then?" Michelle threatened.
Helen didn't want any more of the guard's lashing she received earlier, they were the most painful thing she had ever felt so she obeyed the speaker's command immediately and bent over the bench with her head touching the cold floor. Helen could see Mitchell and the guard upside down between her legs.
Mitchell grabbed the belt from the guard and stood next to the bench where she could swing freely without obstructing the camera's view. Then she pulled down Helen's panties so her ass and pussy lips were on display for all to see.
She placed her firmly on Helen's back, pressing her onto the cold hard bench. Michelle grazed the belt up and down Helen's body and between her legs, again her ass and pussy lips, reminding the young ballerina of just how exposed she was to everyone. Mitchell chuckled sadistically as she reared the belt back and swung it across Helen's naked ass, following all the way through. A loud smack echoed throughout the dungeon followed by a gasp from the guard. Helen let out a yelp as the belt landed again with full force. Two red stripes formed across both cheeks. Mitchell continuously whipped her over and over again until her ass was covered with bright red.
The pain intensified as the whipping continued. Helen tried to catch her breath and remain balanced on the bench. She was trying her best to stop the tears. Mitchell finally stopped and took a step back to admire Helen's burning ass. She tossed the belt to the floor as she said. "I can do better than this." Turning to the guard, "Could you get me a can from the table?" The guard picked up a long cane and handed it to Mitchell who was waiting eagerly.
Mitchell took the cane and rubbed Helen's body all over making sure to poke and prod her exposed pussy. She also poked the cane around his asshole, pushing the tip in and back out a couple of times. Helen let out a soft moan, She enjoyed the sensation of the cane around her anal walls a little bit. Mitchell smirked and swung the cane back. The sound of the cane swishing through the air filled the dungeon followed by a loud crack as the cane connected to Helen's bare skin. The cane left a thin red line across the center of both her cheeks.
The speaker continued to cane Helen's ass hard. With each strike, Helen felt like her ass was being ripped apart. Sweat dripped from her forehead as she struggled to stay centered on the bench. Her cries became louder and louder as she started pleading and trying to avoid the strokes, but there was nowhere to run.
"If you stay still you might just go home at the end of everything," Mitchell said while relentlessly driving the cane into Helen's ass over and over again. Her entire body trembled from the intense pain.
Mitchell finally stopped and stepped back to admire her work. Helen's ass was covered in purple welts. "Get up!" Mitchell ordered. Helen carefully got off the bench, desperately trying to wipe her tears away. Madame speaker smirked at her and ordered, "Now, kneel on the floor at the foot of the bench." With the promise of going home fresh on her mind, Helen did as she was told, shakily going down on her knees and facing the edge of the bench, her knees and the floor, and her purple ass in the air facing the camera.
Michelle straddled her and sat down on the young ballerina's back, facing the camera. "Spread your cheeks," she ordered. Helen reached back with both hands and spread her ass cheeks as far as they could go, exposing her asshole. Michelle raised the cane over her head and brought it down directly centered between Helen's cheeks, hitting squarely on Helen's exposed hole. The ballerina howled in pain as Mitchell caned her asshole and taint several times until she was weeping. Mitchell motioned for the guard to bring the camera closer and he did, capturing her hole and punished ass.
"You can relax now. I have a present for you." Mitchell announced.
Helen stood up and sat on the bench with her ass on fire but she still needed to rest. "Thank you, ma'am. Can I go home now?"
"You will be home soon but I have a present for you before you go home," Michelle told her.
"Which present?" Helen asked. "Please, I don't need any presents. Please just let me go"
"Oh, come on I can't let you leave just like that. Just be a little patient, your present will soon be here." Michelle told her and just as she completed her sentence the guard whispered something into her ear. "Oh, that's perfect. Your present is here. Let them come in,"
Just in the door of the dungeon swung in and stark naked black men with massive penises walked with their twelve-inch penises swinging freely.
"Ah, welcome Shawn and Carter," Michelle said to the two black men before turning to Helen. "Helen, this is Shawn and Carter. They are pornstars and they are normally needed when a few closeted senate members are trying to run an orgy but today they are here just for you."
Helen looked at the size of their cock and immediately burst into another round of loud tears. She couldn't form sentences anymore, she just cried.
"Oh don't cry, Helen," Michelle said. "Once they are done with you then you are free to go home."
"Is this my new life?" Helen wondered. "No, I have to do whatever I need to do and get home. I can't stay here anymore."
Before she could finish her thought Shawn walked over and bent her over the bench with her legs standing and her breasts resting on the table.
Shawn then shoved all of his cock into Helen"s butt and after a few thrusts, Helen groaned heavily. Shawn left his dick in for a while and when he pulled out everyone could see that he was pissing into Helen's butt. he was still pissing when he pulled out and Mitchell could see the piss running down Helen's legs. Helen looked depressed, she had never imagined that at one point he would be used as a urinal.
As Shawn hit his cock on Helen's ass for the remaining piss to spill on her ass, Carter came in and pulled Helen towards him. This was non-stop action and Mitchell loved it so much she picked up the camera and started recording herself.
"It seems you are in love with piss," Carter said. "it's time you get a load of them in your mouth"
He pushed Helen to her knees on the floor and held his cock close to Helen's mouth. Helen clenched his teeth so hard that even Carter couldn't get it open.
"You are almost there, Helen," Mitchell said. "don't you want to go home?"
Helen had to weigh up her choices. Drink piss and have a chance of going home or refuse even though he would still be forced open eventually since he was weak.
Helen slowly opened his mouth for Carter who smiled on seeing her do so.
"Enjoy, bitch," he said. Carter positioned Helen's mouth perfectly and shot his piss directly into Helen's throat. Helen didn't even have the chance to spit out as it went straight down her stomach. Michelle held the camera at a good angle as it captured the piss shot up and directly into Helen's waiting mouth.
Carter pushed his cock into Helen's mouth and waited until he was done dripping, then he opened his mouth once more and inspected it to make sure she had swallowed everything.
Helen had released an ocean worth of tears at this point but her tears just couldn't dry up and they kept on pouring. She was still regretting the decision which led her to this situation when Carter put her in the standing doggy position and forced his monster cock into Helen's backdoor while Shawn stood there stroking his meat. Carter was just picking up pace as he thrust Helen's ass. Helen was trying her best to take it after all, when they were done then she could go home.
Mitchell walked up to them and into Helen's ear she whispered. "I hope you have enjoyed everything so far because you are never going home"
"But you pro-" Helen tried saying something but Shawn forced his huge penis into Helen's mouth. All she said now was incoherent as the penis hit her throat.
Tears rolled down Helen's eyes as her ass was stretched wide to take it in. Shawn in front slammed his whole cock down Helen's throat pushing him back into Carter and causing his huge cock to go all the way in Helen's ass. Carter who who was fucking Helen's ass then shoved him forward causing her to choke on the cock in front of her.
They got into a rhythm of pushing him back and forth abusing her throat and ass. Then they started pushing together at the same time as tears from Helen filled the floor. her ass was completely stretched out around Carter's huge cock and Shawn in front was relentlessly shoving his cock down Helen's throat.
Helen gave up trying to fight and just let them have her body. They were savagely fucking her from both ends. Carter began ramming him even harder than before, her ass was elastic at this point. Carter shot his load inside Helen and pulled out as his cum dripped down Helen's leg.
Meanwhile, Shawn kept slamming Helen's throat with vigor. He held Helen's head deep on his cock and kept him there. As he was cumming, Helen was getting dizzy from gagging and not being able to breathe.
As Shawn pulled out his cock, Helen fell to the floor with cum pouring from his mouth as he desperately tried to breathe.
"Bitch. Did you really think you were going home?" Mitchell asked which was followed by a manic laugh that lasted for almost a minute. "You are never going home. In case you don't know that by now. You are a slave. My slave.”
She turned to the guard. "Get me a bottle of water." She turned her attention back to Helen. "You could cry out your blood but it won't change a damn thing. This is all your fault. You have no one else to blame."
Helen lay on the floor thinking about her life, the speaker was right this was all her fault. She could have just lived her quiet life as a ballerina and with her beauty, she would have attracted a nice husband but her desire for power put her in this position.
"I should have just declined Peter's advances from the very first day," she said to herself.
The guard returned with the water and handed it to Mitchell. "Here Helen, have some water, I can't have you dying of dehydration."
Mitchell held the water close to Helen and waited until Helen sat up. Helen needed the water but then she came to the realization that she didn't have her arms anymore.
"Oh, that's right. I forgot that you can't grab things anymore like you tried to grab my husband." Mitchell said and then let the water hit the floor spilling all over the ground. "I will release the video of this session on your social media accounts so your story could serve as deterrence to anyone trying to fuck with me."
"Let's go," the speaker said and as she left the room, the two pornstars followed her while the guard used one of the wall chains in the dungeon and bound it to Helen's spiked collar.
Helen stayed in the dungeon for a week, the days blurring into a monotonous cycle of despair and regret. Every day, she had to sexually satisfy any politician who Mitchell brought into the dungeon.
The cold, damp air seeped into her bones, and the darkness became a constant companion. She spent hours replaying her decisions, wondering how she had ended up in this hellish place. Yet, despite the crushing weight of her situation, she clung to the faint hope that Peter would come to rescue her.
Each day, she imagined his face, heard his promises in her mind, and held onto the belief that he would save her. The thought of him kept her going, a fragile lifeline in the oppressive gloom of the dungeon.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the heavy door creaked open. Helen squinted against the sudden influx of light, her heart leaping with a mix of hope and fear. As her eyes adjusted, she saw Peter standing there, his face etched with concern.
Tears welled up in Helen's eyes, a flood of relief washing over her. "Peter," she breathed, the name, Peter, a mixture of a plea and a prayer.
Peter leaned in to kiss her, but Helen turned her face away, her resolve firm despite her joy at seeing him. "Not until you get me out of here," she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "You have to get me out of this dungeon first."
Peter paused, his eyes searching hers. He nodded, understanding the depth of her trauma. "I promise, Helen. I will get you out of here. But you have to suck my cock first."
"What?" Helen screamed out.
He pulled down his pants, took off his shirt, and stood naked in front of her. His dick slowly getting hard. "Your new boobs are just fantastic. Plus I have always wanted to fuck an armless woman."
“This is what you always wanted,” Helen screamed. “You only wanted a sex tool, sick bastard.”
“You are going to blow me like the slut you are”. Peter said with a smirk on his face. He stood above her stroking his dick. "Who do you think told Michelle to also give you these huge boobs? She only wanted to cut your hands but I needed some new toys to play with."
Helen looked at him with spite and tried to spit on his face but it landed on his enormous penis. Peter laughed when her spit hit his dick. He brought his dick so close to her face, it almost hit her nose as he dangled it.
"I'm not sucking you ever," Helen shouted at him. She looked up at him and made sure he saw her clench her teeth.
Peter laughed, he seemed to be enjoying her resistance. He tore off her top and her bra without breaking a sweat. Peter reached out to the wall and grabbed the whip.
Helen flinched as she saw him grab the whip. She knew what he was going to do next and she didn’t want it.
Peter grabbed her massive boobs which were free to bounce on their own. He grabbed the nipples and played with them. The more she resisted the harder his cock became.
Peter placed his dick directly outside her mouth and tried to force his way in. Helen resisted him with every bone in her body. The more he pushed, the more she clenched her teeth.
Peter was enjoying himself smirking all the time apart from the laughs he had when he saw his teeth clenched. He picked up the whip and stretched it. He firmly grabbed the whip by the handle and started swinging it.
Helen closed her eyes as she saw him swinging the whip. She was expecting the worst as fear swept over her body. Her legs crawled to the corner as she was scared of what was coming. The whip hit Helen hard on her breast and she screamed uncontrollably. She suddenly felt his dick in her mouth as she let her guard down.
Peter was furiously pumping her mouth; he was thrusting deep until he hit the back of her throat. The sight of her huge breast heaving up and down as he fucked her mouth was a thing of beauty to him. He thrust so hard, his seven and half-inched cock disappeared in her mouth.
Helen was struggling to breathe. She felt the urge to puke and could feel it make its way up her throat where Peter was doing damage. Her mouth was bloated with Peter's dick and her puke searching for space.
Peter could feel the warm puke on his dick and it felt good. He could feel himself building up in his balls and he gave her one final thrust. He went so deep her face hit his thighs and he held her face to his lap as he shot his load deep into her throat and held her till he had emptied his balls in her. He pulled out from her mouth and picked up his clothes.
"Oh. That was wonderful. Now get some rest and get ready for our session tomorrow." Peter said as he tucked his cock into his pants.
Helen laid her weight on the wall looking defeated. She didn’t bother spitting out his sperm or puke as he removed his cock from her mouth. She opened her mouth and let his discharge drip down from her mouth down to her body.
Helen felt a wave of despair wash over her. She was trapped. She was alone. She was scared.
As Peter locked the door to the basement and walked away, Helen sank to the ground, tears streaming down her face.
She sat reminiscing the first time she met Peter, now she was armless and looking disgusting just because of him. All her life she heard of how all men were born equal but in her pursuit of a better life, she had been subjugated by another woman; more powerful albeit less beautiful. "Well, maybe life is Unbalanced after all."