Anya, being driven. . . somewhere
The goon had bound my hands together with duck tape in my lap, and his cologne from his place next to me in the other back seat of the moving car filled my nose. Rafe was driving, and periodically looked at me smugly in the rearview mirror.
Despite my years of servitude, I'd never been literally BOUND before. I was going to get out of this however I could, but this new type of helplessness was doing weird things to my brain, and my loins.
I'd admitted to myself soon after my emancipation that I liked being a woman, and I enjoyed getting dominated by both men and other women. I couldn't deny the fact the idol had worked on me, or the feelings I still had almost all the time.
I'd even found a couple of partners willing to explore that with me safely, and had a great time. But I knew I couldn't let my kinks dictate my existence, and I was determined to forge a full life as Anya, not just be someone's bangmaid.
I leaned on a mental exercise I'd learned from a couple of sessions of therapy I'd taken. I tried to ball up all the unwanted feelings and lock them away in a cage in my mind, freeing up my higher level thinking.
I'd used it a few times in the past, and it had worked for me to help me turn down obvious assholes in my line of work, no.mattwr how much my lower level thinking wanted to explore with them. I felt some dissociation, and my bound hands no longer felt quite so sexy. I was in control of myself.
But then Rafe spoke from the driver's seat.
"I've missed you, Anya." He said. "It hurt when you left me."
I felt a pang of guilt, and memories of our time together surged in me. Rafe controlling me, making me feel so. . .
No! I channeled all those feelings into the cage.
"You verrre going to send me back to RRRussia, eventually." I said.
"What? Is that what you thought?" He asked, surprised. "I never would have done that."
I felt some surprise as well, realizing that I'd taken the old Anya's claim about that inevitability as truth without really examining it. She'd been thinking of Michael as the master, not Rafe.
No! It didn't matter now. I shoved the feelings into the cage again, but felt a slight resistance this time.
"It doesn't matter RRRafe. I vant to be model, and live my own life." I told him proudly. "Do you zink I'll be yourrr slave? What arrre you planning?"
"I think you'd like being my slave," Rafe said, then looked up at me in the rear view mirror with a smile. "I could just lock you up and keep you in the basement."
My mouth dropped open, at the moment not sure if he was joking. My body flushed at the idea. I tried to push my feelings into the cage again, but when I pictured it this time I found it impossible.
Because I was in the cage. Anya, a slave version of me, looked back.
This caged version of me had her hands bound with duct tape, just like mine were in the real world now, but she had her mouth covered too. The caged girl was naked, except for more tape covering her nipples.
This imaginary slave Anya looked at me plaintively through the bars, tossing her head and begging me with her eyes to release her.
Why wouldn't I let her go, before the master came back?
Oh god. She was so helpless.
The feelings surged again, and this time had no outlet. The car felt stiflingly hot, and my brow started to bead with sweat. My breathing increased in speed.
I looked up into the rearview mirror, and Rafe was smirking at me. Could he tell what the thought was doing to me?
"Nyet. You vouldn't do zat." I insisted, knowing he was a lot of things but a slaver wasn't one of them. But that wasn't the right thing to say, was it? "I mean, I don't vant zat." I affirmed.
Rafe chuckled. "I'm just teasing you Anya. I'm not going to make you my sex slave, even if you want it. You left." I bristled, and almost replied, but he continued. "I just want you to meet someone."
"Who?"
"You'll see."
He pulled into a hotel, on the edge of the city.
+++++++
"Anya, meet Anong." Rafe gestured to the Asian girl standing next to the hotel bed, wearing a scandalous mesh red dress and a smile. Thai or Filipina, probably? She wasn't restrained in any way, while my hands were still duct taped in front of me.
"Hello Anong. Nice to meet you." I waved to the girl. "Zerrre, RRRafe, kan I go now?"
"Not yet, Anya. I want you two to get to know each other."
"Vhy?" I asked. "Kan yoah plyeasye jyust lyet mye go?" My accent was thicker when I was anxious, the English words a little harder to find.
"Anya, Anya, Anya. Don't worry, that sexy little ass of yours will be walking out of here in ten minutes or so, free and clear. I just wanted you to meet my new maid. Isn't she pretty?"
"Yyes, shye ees vyery pryetty." I replied, just to move it along, not sure I believed he was really going to let me go.
He was right about her beauty though; Anong had an innocent face with plump lips and expressively large almond-shaped eyes. Her voluminous hair went down nearly to her butt, but her unfortunate blonde dye job and overdone makeup made her look a little cheap.
"Anong is nineteen years old, four feet nine and a half inches tall, and she weighs eighty-three pounds. She knows maybe fifteen words in English, but can also count to twenty."
She is really tiny, I realized, starting to become slightly fascinated with her despite myself. I'd never seen a waist that small on a grown woman. She had nice little perky boobs, though they were obviously much smaller than mine.
My very bisexual libido, already inflamed from the conversation in the car, started to rev a little.
Anong was very sexy, how could it not?
I wonder what color her nipples are? I thought.
Anong didn't seem to be following anything we were saying.
Rafe continued. "I found her in a premier whorehouse in Bangkok, the best girl at a really high quality place. She'd only been working there for a year, still fresh faced. She's thrilled I bought her and brought her to America."
"Zeat's gryeat Rafye, glad yoah'rye focahseeng on zeye eemportant skeells for yoahr nyev maeed." I rolled my eyes.
"Being my maid will be a little different for her than it was for Anya." He continued, ignoring my comment. "She's annoyingly short, way below the minimum height for a maid in my house, so I'm going to make her wear heels like that all times." He pointed at the sparkly silver platform heels heels she was wearing.
I frowned, wondering why he was telling me this. What were we doing here?
Rafe hadn't really been that strict about footwear when I was his maid, though he had told me to leave my heels on once or twice when he fucked me.
The ones Anong was wearing looked impossible to walk in; more than 2 inches of platform below the toes and perhaps 7 inches of spike heel.
Rafe continued his bizarre monologue. "Her maid uniforms will be a lot sluttier than yours too, but maybe not as slutty as her other clothes."
He gestured to the bed while looking at Anong, and she climbed up with grace despite the aforementioned heels.
She looked at me over her shoulder with a pout, as if imagining her fate. It felt performative, and the first bit of new unease entered my thoughts. She was in on this, whatever it was, I realized.
I couldn't see his play, but whatever it was I knew I wouldn't like it, even though he'd promised me I could leave.
"Arye vye donye yyet rafye? Yoh von't conveencye me to cyome back jahst becaahse my ryeplacyemyent has eet even vorse zan I deed. Not my problyem." I was done with this, though my traitorous mind did take another lingering look at Anong while imagining her fate. It was going to be a tough ride for the tiny Thai girl, but even if I still betrayed myself in nighttime fantasies occasionally, the thinking part of my brain had no desire to go back.
I must have missed a gesture from Rafe while looking at Anong.
I yelped when the hulking man suddenly grabbed me by my bound arms. He cut the tape with a knife, then tore a new strip and bound them behind my back instead.
Oh fuck. "Gyet off me, asshole." I told him, struggling. But I had no chance against him.
He pushed me to the bed with the Thai whore, and practically threw me on the bed next to her on my side onto it, bound hands leaving me almost stuck. I worked up to a sitting position with difficulty, glaring at the man, then glaring more when he took out the roll of duct tape and taped my ankles together too
I wasn't going anywhere until they let me.
This is wrong. Something else is going on, my mind insisted.
"We're almost done, Andy. But I know something you don't." I froze at the use of my old name, then my eyes went wide as dinner plates as he approached me now. He knew it was me!
Oh god. The embarrassment flushed through me, my forced cool at the situation evaporating.
"Yes, I know who it is in there now." He touched my hair, and I didn't even think to recoil. He smiled. "I can't believe I was fucking my old rival for over a year and didn't know it. But now I do. I regret I won't get to fuck Anya anymore, knowing it's actually Andy in there, but she made her feelings clear when she so hurtfully left my employ. Anong though. . ."
He smirked, then reached into his coat and pulled out the item I'd dreamed about so long.
But I didn't want it, not now!
The little Buddha statue glittered in his hand.
Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
His plan clicked into place in my mind, finally. I looked at Anong.
Oh god.
When I looked back at Rafe, he suprised me by pressing the idol against my forehead and looking at me meaningfully.
Nothing happened. Maybe it was broken now? Out of juice?
But no. . . he was just demonstrating that is wouldn't work for him and me. Because he knew HE didn't want to be Anya. And he'd been right.
He removed it, and pressed it again to my hand.
Nothing.
I intentionally didn't wonder if I also didn't meet the criteria for wanting to swap.
My brain recoiled at where I knew this was going but my libido, ever traitorous, roared from hot embers to a bonfire.
Desperate, I tried again to summon the mind cage, needing to stuff some of these wild thoughts away.
But when it appeared in my imagination, I found Anya bent over, big butt against the cage and bound hands clutching the bars on the opposite side.
Rafe was fucking her ass through the bars, sawing in and out with ease, clearly in ownership of this imaginary Anya.
Slave Anaa moaned, clearly not hating the situation.
My loins flared even hotter, and I squirmed, almost feeling ghost sensations in my own ass, which had never been penetrated. Not yet, anyways.
I shoved the vision away, finding no relief there. I'd just have to. . .
I strained against the tape on my hands, rolling back on the bed uncomfortably on to my bound hands behind my back, but couldn't get free. Anong helpfully pushed me back into a sitting position, but it was clearly difficult for her since even as a skinny girl I outweighed her by nearly 50 pounds.
Rafe continued as if he didn't notice me connecting the dots.
"The private investigator I sent to find you was very very thorough. He found a lot of things I didn't even expect. Your text messages to the real Anya, and the link to the blind auction for my old statue here. Very fascinating what it's capable of. . . I can't believe I just gave it away before."
I looked at the Thai whore-turned-maid next to me, horror and other feelings swirling.
She put her hair up in a pony tail, the motions reminiscent of a farmer rolling up his sleeves. As if she had some work to do, her part to play now starting.
I started to breathe quickly, panicking. I didn't want this. I couldn't.
I knew I didn't.
So why was I starting to hyperventilate?
I strained at the tape again, which was now biting my flesh, but I had no hope of escape. "Nyet!" I said, inarticulately, all English suddenly fleeing in my panic.
The statue will only work if both of us want it to! I forcefully reminded myself. I don't want to be Rafe's tiny little Thai maid! I don't him to make me wear a slutty uniform, or suck his dick, or totter around on those heels. . .
Anong would probably be happy to trade with a model-pretty white girl who was nearly a foot taller than her and actually spoke English. I couldn't rely on it failing because of HER not wanting it.
"Rafye nyet! Plyeasye!" I begged pathetically as he approached Thuy. He held out the statue towards the diminutive girl and she reached out to take it. When her hand grasped it, he held it for a few beats, demonstrating that the statue had no effect on them together, either.
Rafe had no latent desires to become a slutty little Thai maid-prostitute; not a big surprise.
Who would want that? Even a little?
He let Anong take the statue from him. He pressed a button on his phone, and an instruction in some fast Asian language (presumably Thai? Wasn't it called something else?) came out.
"Just like we discussed." He said in English as a follow up, but she had already nodded and didn't react further.
Anong looked at me, and suddenly her whole demeanor had changed.
She was innocent a moment ago, but now her face was. . . predatory. Like she wanted to eat me for lunch. Her pretty brown eyes stared into my hazel ones, boring into my soul. Her background, unlike mine, made her ready to seize any opportunity she was presented.
I could tell she was fully aware of the situation, and she was ready to exploit my weakness and take anything I was stupid enough to give. She would feel no guilt or regret.
I noticed her nose ring, and her half dozen ear piercings that contrasted with my simple single piercing in each lobe. I noticed the tattoo above her left breast, and thought I'd seen an inked bunny on her ass as well. I didn't have any tattoos as Anya. . . but I was certainly slutty enough for them.
The hulking guard scooched me back to the head board so I couldn't fall backward.
Anong put her leg over my lap into a straddling position and settled onto me; she was so small her weight wasn't even uncomfortable on my bare thighs. She felt GOOD there. I'd been with a few girls as Anya, of course, but Anong was definitely hotter than them, and it wasn't close.
Her cheap perfume filled my nose, along with a more subtle but slightly familiar 'earthy' aroma, and the touch of the soft skin of her thighs on the equally soft skin of my own legs felt distressingly nice. Her skin's temperature was as warm as it's wheatish tone.
Anong's arms went around my neck in a sensually practiced way, the hands containing the statue now behind my head where I couldn't see it but also not touching me. Yet.
I twitched and moved my head forward to gain space from it, which put me pressed cheek to cheek with the Thai whore in an awkward sort of intimacy.
"What's the problem, Andy? If you really don't want to be my maid again then just stay Anya. I promised that she gets to walk right out the door and never be bothered by me again. That's still true."
Anong surprised me then, her soft lips nibbling my ear. I gasped, and looked down, unable to evade her attentions.
My eyes were drawn once again to the horrible shoes on Anong's tiny little feet.
Could a girl get used to wearing those all the time, or would they just always be uncomfortable,? I wondered, trying not to wiggle despite her lips on my neck and the idol so tantalizingly close to my skin.
Would her Achilles tendons and calves change form over time to accommodate the extreme shoes? I'd worn heels as Anya of course, many times, but rarely more than three inches tall and never all day.
"God I wish I'd known you were Andy that whole time as Anya! I'd have enjoyed you even more. But we can make up for lost time, if you really want to." Rafe continued to snipe me. "Remember how hard I made you cum before? It will be even better for Anong."
Anong's plush lips had moved to just below my chin, making me shiver while looking up to the ceiling. God, how was she was so hot? Her petiteness, her race, her wanton lack of shame. . . it was all affecting me on a visceral level, amplified by my bound state and the awful danger I knew I was in.
She'll be even sexier in a maid uniform than I was, my traitorous brain informed me.
My brain went to the mind cage one last time, though I knew it was fruitless. Dream Slave Anya smiled at me, face covered in cum, and waved. She still had braces, even though I'd gotten them off nearly a year ago.
I was jolted out of the imagining by Anong grabbing my face with her free hand, focusing my eyes on herself. She pulled back to look at me, smiling.
She was going to do it. Oh god, she was going to do it.
I looked down at our entwined bodies where her olive skin tone contrasted with my complete paleness.
My depravity had already allowed my gender to be stolen; surely it wouldn't do this to me again? Now my race, height and hard won English were at stake, along with losing my hard-won freedom again.
I looked into Anong's sultry canted eyes, so different from mine, and was caught off guard when she planted an achingly sensual kiss directly on my lips. It was the softest thing I had ever felt. I moaned, unable to resist melting into it.
How many dicks have those puffy lips touched, I wondered? Hundreds? I'd only ever sucked a handful of different ones, myself. That suddenly felt like a small number.
What did it feel like to have such soft and experienced lips?
I moaned into the kiss and my eyes closed of their own accord. She pulled her mouth away for a moment, and I felt her hand slip beneath my skirt, her fingers pressing against my sopping wet panties.
I opened my eyes to see her smirk when she pulled her hand back and showed the slimy digits to Rafe, who chuckled knowingly. They were both very confident of my fate, now.
Anong wiped the slime into her own hair; it was the next girl's problem.
She swapped the arm that was behind my neck and suddenly the statue was separating our lips with a mere inch on each side, pinched between her thumb and forefinger.
Fuck! I don't want this! I don't want this! I don't want this!
I repeated it in my mind, over and over, but the heat in my tummy and loins belied my mantra.
"Nyet! Nyet!" I begged, but then she pressed her lips against it, eyes locked with mine, and with her other arm still around my neck she had no problem pushing her face and the idol forward before I could react. It pressed firmly into my lips so that we kissed the idol together. I immediately felt a lurch in my tummy.
Fuck, no, no, no, I don't want this! I insisted to myself, to the universe.
My last thoughts as Anya were desperately ineffective. The most depraved parts of me, in my core, wanted this at least a little bit.
I tried to fight it, but the familiar tugging in my brain was inexorable, and my perspective flipped disorientingly only heartbeats later.
When my mind cleared enough to see, I found I was straddling a familiar girl, with her arms and legs bound; she was very tall and pale and beautiful.
The pale girl's eyes looked up at me with wicked joy, despite her bound state.
I was now the one holding the statue in my tiny, olive-toned fingers.
Thinking quickly despite the haze of my mind, I touched the idol to her face.
Nothing happened.
I repeated our kiss with the statue between our lips - nothing happened.
I felt strong arms lift me from Anong's - Anya's - lap as easily as a sack of flour and set me on my feet next to the bed, where I tottered in the punishing heels. Despite the extra seven inches in height from the shoes, the room still seemed larger and more threatening than it had moments before.
Rafe's goon then plucked the statue from my fingers using a handkerchief, before I could even think to stop him, and handed it back to his boss, who put it in his pocket.
I touched my new hair, soiled in one spot with Anya's arousal. It was much, much longer than I'd ever had it as Anya.
Rafe probably wouldn't let me cut it, either.
I folded my arms, meeting less resistance than I expected due to my significantly decreased bust and also noting how thin my arms now were.
I was small everywhere. I looked down, seeing my slutty red mesh dress that showed so much of my new brown body.
I noticed a crusty stain on one of the designs in the fabric, and hoped it wasn't what I thought it was.
Rafe said something to the large man, who was quickly freeing Anya from her restraints. It sounded like gibberish and I was momentarily confused.
It was English, I realized; I just didn't understand it. Once again, I'd be trapped by my inability to communicate in America.
Suddenly, Anya was above me, staring down. She took me by the hands and steadied my wobbling. I looked up into her eyes, still a hand's width shorter despite my towering heels compared to her flats. My almond-shaped eyes looked pleading into her round ones.
She removed my hair tie with caring gentleness, before using it to put up her own now blonde hair. My new locks cascaded to their full length, brushing the top of my pert little ass. The hair was the only part about me that wasn't small.
"Goodbyye, leettlye Anong. And zank yoh." Anya said to me, now freed, and her thick Russian accent made my poor grasp of English even worse. I still recognized "Goodbye" and "Thank You".
The tall girl leaned down slightly and stole another kiss, the feel of our lips now reversed. It didn't feel any less awful or amazing.
My question was answered - I knew for the first time what it felt like to use Anong's plush lips. It felt good.
My mind felt frayed.
"กรุณาอย่าทำเช่นนี้. - - (Please don't do this!)" I begged softly, but no one cared even if they somehow understood me.
I was too stunned to protest further when Anya and the hulking man left, leaving me alone with Rafe.
++++++++
Author note: One more part left, plus an epilogue.