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Kristin's Encounter Begins Anew

Kristin begins her journey, or is the ending?


The ad seemed innocent enough. She had been reading the want ads for some time now, seeking something different to do. Years at the same job had taken its toll, boredom, and a feeling of dread that came with every new day. This ad was different though. It caught her eye, and after dismissing it as either nonsense, or a joke of some kind, she kept going back to the same paper and rereading the circled advertisement,

“If you are a bright, thin, attractive, highly adventurous and daring girl who sees herself as a fire-engine red Ferrari, rather than a blue mini van, and craves excitement beyond the usual, contact us at....”

Some job description, Kristin thought. How anyone is expected to apply for that, she thought. It must be a come-on of some kind.

Thursday was slower than usual, no good prospects, and her funds were rapidly running out. The idea of working at a Mc Donald’s was not in the picture, after being an executive for a large company. Damm them for relocating to China, she muttered to herself.

After looking in her purse, Kristin decided that the twenty-four dollars that she had left was not going to last too much longer. The paper was still lying on the kitchen table, with the circled ad folded on top, as she finished her breakfast.

Reaching for the phone, she muttered to herself, another crappy job, I’m sure. The excitement is probably doing cold calling for vacuum cleaners or something.

The phone rang and rang, just as she was ready to hang up, an Oriental female voice answered. She explained her reason for calling and the girl on the other end just listened. When she was finished, the voice simply said,

“Come to 99 Elm Street, suite 4, tonight at 9PM. Dress like you were going to a rock club to party, you will enjoy the interview, I promise.”

The phone hung up without the person saying another word. Weird, she thought, and dismissed the whole idea. The day dragged on. Daytime TV sucks, she thought to herself. One more show about dumb women that love prisoners and I will scream.

The clock showed 7:30PM, she was still unsettled about the ad and now the weird phone message. Her imagination was peaked; she could not get the caller’s words out of her mind. Taking a deep breath, she got up, walked into her bedroom, and opened the closet.

“OK,” she thought. “I’ll go take a look, and then leave.”

She had no idea of what to wear; she usually wore dress clothes to her job, and had not dated too much in the last few years, since her divorce. She spied something in the back of the closet that caught her eye. A few years prior, she had purchased a wild outfit to show herself off, for then husband, after she had caught him cheating on her with his secretary.

“Let him eat his heart out,” she had thought, “I’ll be the wild-child and then dump his sorry ass.”

The bright-red, vinyl micro mini skirt, barely covered her behind. The white, halter-bra top she selected was likewise about half the size that she would have liked it to be, if she was to be seen in public. The thigh-high, red, vinyl boots stood atop a platform that made her beautiful, long legs seem like they went to the sky. Matching studded, red, wristbands and a neck-choker, topped the outfit off.

“This will do,” she thought, “And besides, it will make me feel better if I can strut myself a bit and drive the interviewer a bit crazy.”

The drive to the location was exciting enough for her. The top was down on her convertible, and all the truckers on the interstate honked and whistled, as they looked down on her in the tiny car. The tease in her was coming back; she hiked her skirt up almost to her waist, so that her bright-pink, satin panties were almost fully exposed.

“This isn’t bad entertainment,” she thought to herself.

The address given was not in the best part of town. The streetlights were about half broken, boarded and abandoned buildings, were everywhere.

Parking as close to the address as possible, she looked in her mirror and poofed her hair up to where it was desired, and put a fresh coat of ruby-red, lip gloss, on just for good measure.

The walk to the building was a combination of excitement, and the feeling of “What the hell am I doing here....”

A strange feeling of wetness greeted her as she walked, her panties were soaked, and she didn’t realize it until now.

“Wow,” she thought, “This isn’t too bad, so far. I haven’t been this hot since the divorce, when I seduced and fucked a young guy at a dance club, just for the fun of it.”

The steel door on the building was bent and dented, from too many attempts to get inside, the handle was ripped half off, and the holes in the door seemed to look just like bullet holes. She hesitated for a second; a voice on the intercom rang out, even before she had pushed the buzzer.

“Walk in, please,” the voice said.

Kristin heard the click of the electric lock as the door eerily creaked opened.

Before her was a steel-staircase, with an arrow painted on the wall, pointing up. Seeing nothing else, she climbed the stairs and opened the door at the top of the landing. Inside, the girl behind the voice greeted her; she was a very beautiful Oriental girl, with long flowing jet-black hair and a face that belonged on a porcelain doll. Her Kimono dress was a bright orange silk, it fit her like a glove, although the length barely passed her upper thighs.

The reception room was appointed like a Park Avenue office, beautiful wall coverings from China, lush carpeting and a mahogany desk. Not too shabby, so far, she thought. Looking at the wall hangings, she noticed that they were all of ancient erotic scenes, most of which had women as the object of royal’s pleasures. Unusual, compromising positions, and strange acts, foreign to her, were depicted in bountiful detail.

As the inner-office door opened, it startled her. The man and a woman that passed from behind the hidden, inner-door, were chiseled in appearance, and looked like they just stepped out of a runway fashion show. The man’s suit fit like it was hand tailored for him. The girl was tall, thin, and wore what looked at first glance, to be a skin tight, shiny, black catsuit and high heel ankle boots. The dim lighting played tricks on her eyes. At second glance, the girl didn’t seem to have a face or hair...She regrouped her senses and took another look at her. She was right, no face or hair to be seen. The girl was covered from head to toe in the stretchy, shiny, black suit that was like a second skin, covering her body. She was able to speak and breathe well enough, and didn’t seem to mind at all what she was poured into.

The man noticed her staring at the encased girl. He then spoke to her,

”It’s a Zentai,” he said, “Its ritual Chinese for a courtesan to wear, in front of her master, you’ll get used to this, and so much more.”

“What do you mean,” she asked.

“You are here, once again, to become a member of our family,” he said.

“Your reply to the ad was based not on what you read, but the subliminal messages within it. You saw what you wanted to see, no more, no less. You’re being here, once more, is your final acceptance into our world. From now on, we are your only contact with the outside world. As we speak, our minions are emptying your apartment. The belongings that you will require are being transported to your new home. That home is here. Every second of your day is to be a learning experience, every action that you will take, is to be what we expect and demand of you.”

“WHAT???” she screamed, “Are you NUTS??? What do you mean, here once again, I have never seen you, or this place before, and you have the wrong girl. I was replying to an ad for a job, that’s all,” she said to the now impatient man.

He then proceeded to go into great detail about her prior experiences, none of which made any sense at all to her. She was told that for nearly three years she was a part of his family of courtesans, he even produced photographs to prove his point to her. He told her: that on a stormy, terrible night, several years earlier, she disappeared along with two others in the family, leaving no traces to follow. They searched and searched for her, and finally gave her up for dead. Somehow, as a last chance, they placed a repeat of the original newspaper advertisement that brought her to them the first time.

It ran in newspapers all over the country, for weeks and weeks, only to have her turn up less than ten miles away from where she disappeared. Naturally, she was unable to process all that was going on, and felt overwhelmed with it. She could not decide if it was all an elaborate hoax, or not. Without warning, a large burly Oriental man appeared from nowhere; he grabbed both of her arms and pulled them roughly behind her back. Within seconds her wrists were bound tightly together and her arms were fitted into tightly-laced, leather, arm binder.

From his pocket he produced a bright-yellow, rubber ball with a thin leather thong threaded through it. The ball was stuffed deep into her mouth and the thong tied tightly behind her head, cutting off any possibility of speech, or screams for help.

The mystery woman walked in front of her and hugged her.

“Don’t resist, my dear, it is futile. Let yourself go, it will be mush easier on you.”

“Besides,” she added, “Your subconscious begs you to be here, you will come to learn a much deeper truth, as time passes.”

Strangely, the woman’s voice calmed her to the point of relaxing her. She took a few deep breaths and stopped her fight to get loose. Bending down, the mystery woman took a pair of steel ankle-cuffs and snapped them onto each ankle, to prevent her from running. They were joined by a short piece of chain, which allowed for only very short steps to be taken without falling. Then, the woman stood back up, and bent her covered head towards her, and repeated the single word: “AMETHYST,” to her.

Hearing the word spun her head into a wildly turbulent cycle of vertigo, she felt like she had been drugged with the most powerful narcotic imaginable. She lost all relationship to her body, and to her surroundings. She was able to hear voices, but not to make any sense out of what they were saying. It was like being inside of a closet and hearing muffled voices from the next room.

“You are a beautiful woman,” was the last thing she recalled hearing.

When she regained consciousness, she found herself in a predicament that she could not understand. She was in a sitting position with her legs underneath her, as if she was kneeling and was sitting down upon the calves of her legs. Still groggy, she attempted to move and get up, but was unable to do so. Around her waist, she saw a wide, black-leather, waist-cincher belt, which had drawn her waist in some five or so inches smaller. Attached to either side of the cincher belt was a large, chrome, metal ring, and a snap-hook that were attached to similar rings on the surface she was placed on.

Trying to look around the room was very difficult, she was now coming out of her stupor, and could feel that her neck was laced tightly into a neck-corset, that held her head erect, and removed the possibility of any rotation, or lowering her head. The surface she was attached to was a platform; about five feet square, and raised about a foot off of the floor. The surface that she sat upon was covered in burgundy colored leather, and was softly padded.

Dozens of candles surrounded the room, with no other source of light. Her arms were bound tightly into an arm binder, the end of which was drawn taught and attached to another ring on the floor of the platform, pulling her body slightly rearward. Between her legs she felt a strange stirring. This was the result of her being impaled on a very large, rubber-cock dildo, that was likewise attached to the platform. Now fully awake, she was able to comprehend her situation, and somehow, she was not afraid of what was happening, this frightened her more than the situation itself.

“What is this all about?” she thought, “Was I really here before, and why? In what capacity was I here?”

These and countless more thoughts flooded through her mind like lightning. Rocking back and forth, to try and loosen her bindings, she inadvertently began to excite and arouse herself, as the dildo slid in and out with every movement of her body. All but giving up on the hopes of pulling loose from her shackles, she contented herself with rocking, to get the most feeling out of her erotic torture.

Quicker than she had anticipated, the feeling grew and grew until the inevitable occurred, a wave of orgasmic energy flooded over her, causing her to rock and rock with all the intensity that she could muster. Finally, the waves subsided and she went limp, nearly out of breath, and feeling very dizzy. As her fatigue grew into a peaceful slumber, she heard her thoughts in her mind.

“What is wrong with me? I am not afraid; I am so peaceful and contented even though I have been kidnapped.”

No answer entered her mind other than if this was her past, what would her future bring?

That question would soon be answered. From behind her, she heard a door swing open and bang the wall loudly.

“Did you enjoy that?” the man’s voice echoed. “For your sake, I hope so...”

She heard many voices and footsteps behind her, and then she saw the mystery girl from earlier, and a similarly clad girl, but covered in bright, metallic gold material. The two girls both knelt, one on each side of her, and begin to touch and caress her body with their covered hands. The feeling was sublime, as she luxuriated in the attention of the mystery figures.

Just then, the man stepped before her and pointed at her.

“Now, you will unfortunately feel the results of leaving us, causing us great fear and upset, that you could have been lost to us, forever.”

As he stepped away, the two girls stopped their ministrations and kneeled motionless. Many footsteps could be heard from the rear and sides of the room. The candles were extinguished until only the softest of light was visible, barely sufficient to find your way in the room. She then saw a sight that shocked her to the core. Before her stood several men, all young and handsome, and all totally naked. They grouped next to each other, and with their rigid cocks pointed inches from her face, began to masturbate themselves, and each other, wildly. Some masturbated with the help of the two covered ladies that stood beside her.

Within a very short time, she felt the first, of what would be countless ejaculations, shoot at her face. The first landed on her forehead and slowly began to slide down her face, to ultimately drip down onto her breasts. Shot after shot was propelled at her, gradually covering her entire face and blinding her eyes. Her face had become a liquid-white layer of eroticism, her attempt to count ended at over 35, when she lost count, and just settled into the moment. She could feel every shot hit her, some squarely in her eyes, some into her forehead, and most dripping around the ball gag, and sliding down her tongue and into her throat. Her beautiful breasts were glistening in the candle light with their newly found layer of lustful expression covering them. She also had lost count of how many times she had successfully managed to manipulate herself into orgasm by rocking her hips back and forth, but then, who cared?

Time seemed to be intangible, but after what seemed to be forever, the attention stopped. She was at once alone and immersed fully in the moment that she hoped would never end. The cool, sticky cum that covered her face and body felt like a blanket of the finest lotion that bathed her in luxurious excess. Her mind was at peace, and at the same time, racing to try and imagine what was in store for her next. Something about the man in the front office bothered her, it was almost like Déjà’, Vu. There was a connection that she could not readily place, but she was working on it, trying to rerun her prior life.

Where had she been before her first encounter with these people? Her mind was totally blank to her early life. What had happened to her when she was here before, if in fact she had really been? She had been under the impression that she was an orphan, and could only recall the last few years. Doctors had told her that she was blocking something that must have caused her great trauma, and that someday it would probably be remembered, when she was ready to deal with it.

But it would, and without warning....

NEXT, "The Encounter"

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