Chapter 2 - Queen & Mistress

CHAPTER 2 – Queen & Mistress

Fandoms
Code Geass

Relationships
C.C. / Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Kallen Kōzuki | Kallen Stadfelt / C.C.
Kallen Kōzuki | Kallen Stadfelt / Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia

Other Tags
Anal Plug, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfold, Blowjob, Bondage, Bunny Girl, Chastity, Collar, Dildo Gag, Fellatio, Gag, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Denial, Spreader Bar, Vibrator


Chapter Summary
Once, in the days of yore, Kallen had resented C.C., that cool, smug, needlingly coquettish slacker. After all, other than half-nakedly lounging about Zero’s office day in and day out, what was it exactly that this minx had been wasting all of her time at? Be it tangible or not, had she contributed at least something, however minor, to the Black Knights’ cause? It was only more recently that Kallen had finally come to personally behold the unabridged, uncensored and uncut raison d’être for her mutual, impish associate’s enlistment; servicing Zero was both a distinctly arduous and patently exhausting role demanding nothing less that the most absolute devotion, total submission and complete obedience. Kallen would know; she’d just spent the past month alone almost entirely on her knees.

The tinkling of a bell, chiming softly, echoed within the closed confines of the office. More conspicuously, and in accompaniment, so too did the regular, recurrent and sustained sounds of languid, sensual sucking, a pair of luscious lips venerably wrapped ‘round throbbing cock, with unblemished, ivory white teeth held befittingly ajar via a residing steel ring. As fine cheeks hollowed themselves out in doting suction and lapping tongue dexterously twirled along rigid shaft and sensitive glans, the graciously accommodating throat which lingered beyond stretched, squeezed and stroked. A wet popping noise would make itself known with slow, steady regularity as the taut seal of red lips was broken at the rod’s apex, before reforming itself as the head they were attached to bobbed its way back down to the root, where the lady could swallow no more, and so the act of prayer began again and once anew. As a sign of her ‘gratitude’, the parishioner hummed, moaned and meekly mewled around her gift in sporadic intervals, a bonus to the exercise.
 
Long, lustrous, and shinning green hair danced amidst the light breeze of the ritual’s movements, concealing some, but not all of the deliciously profane sight from the two onlooking others. A black gloved hand playfully combed its way past semi-hidden leather straps and through verdant silken strands with gentle caresses and leisurely repetition, sometimes pausing for a few moments, resting atop a duo of long, black, felt and half-drooped bunny ears, ‘guiding’ the fellatio with featherweight pressure. Saliva shone in the dim, mellow, orange lighting of the room as cum, spit and drool freely coated the shaft, flowing in such ample manner lips, incessantly repeating, drifted nigh frictionlessly from pillar’s peak to stones. Thick, tacky strands arched between the donor’s chin and white collared neck, with attached black silk bowtie and dangling, golden silver bell tinkling daintily beneath. Stout, ferrous chain links jingled from the performance, the collar’s leash temporarily moored to a hulking iron ring bolted to the deck, preventing escape.
                                                                                                                                      
Between her legs, and despite laying within the shade of her body, damp metal subduedly gleamed under a thoroughly sodden snap buttoned crotch piece, an ever so faint buzz emitting from both of the entrances sealed away by an ever-present chastity belt. The sheer, black pantyhose worn by the lady had had a hole deliberately fashioned right at the undergarment’s central seem so as not to interfere with the critical ‘equipment’ lodged inside her. The tuft of an artificial, vibrating and poofy white tail emerged from her keister, its mission objective a joint one, anchoring via chain a doublet of neat, white, felt lined wrist cuffs. They camouflaged built-in, integral steel shackles, adorned with gilded cufflinks et al.
 
Kneeling as she was, a pool of slobber slowly collecting betwixt the prisoner’s two barely covered breasts, her marvelously flushed and glisteningly wet cleavage lay wholly exposed; within arm’s reach, they belonged to the man lording above her, their exploitation at his complete discretion. Effortlessly they bounced, rocked and quaked, swaying in unison with the back-and-forth movement of the girl’s nodding head and upper torso, backless, strapless leotard exposing vast tracts of youthful, utterly smooth and rosy skin, from her tightly collared neck to her wonderfully flared hips, her ribs exposed and her arms bare. 
 
Mandatory trappings of her uniform, a trio of black leather cuffs with chrome links stringently reinforced the false wrist cuffs in keeping the maiden’s arms suitably secured. With twin sets stationed above and below the elbows, gluing them together, the third was posted just shy of the captive’s shoulders in an attempt to fuse the two appendages into a single limb. In addition, a misleadingly diminutive iron bar was run downwards along the mademoiselle’s back and between her shoulder blades, fastened to her collar, shoulder cuffs and wrist cuffs, forcing her arms into the exacting form of a chicken wing. With soft, manicured, uncalloused hands having been physically restrained, palms pressed to the middle of her back and thumbs cuffs complementarily accessorized, said arms were placed under fierce strain. This pressure, in turn, had the desired effect of ergo forcibly pulling back the lady’s shoulders and further thrusting out her chest, baring her gorgeous bust and mounds for more goatishly perverse and deviant use; a stunning visual.
 
Completing this convoluted ensemble, a simple pair of locking, high heeled, stilettoed shoes had been proffered for the young woman to deck upon her feet. To this, four more couplets of cuffs firmly inhibited the unfolding of her frogtied legs, with upper and lower calves and thighs snuggly fixed together, heels pressed to haunches. Set just below the knees, an extendible spreader bar compulsorily kept the lower limbs spread wide open, and to what laid amongst them readily accessible for the master’s use.
 
On top the leftmost of two juxtaposed side tables, an undone, black, strengthened leather blindfold laid flat and set aside, coupled with an empty silver tray. Lackadaisically reclining in his office’s sofa just as he’d been since Kallen’s advent, Zero’s helmeted face admired the carnal, half-lidded, golden eyes of his mistress, C.C., blissfully surveying his beautiful, bound, gagged and vibrated bunny girl of an attendant as she continued to worship and revere his cock, indulgently fellating him, seemingly bereft of an end. The revolutionary just couldn’t ever seem to get enough, and C.C. never, ever gave the impression of growing tired with her task.
 
They’d probably been at it long before Kallen’s own arrival, and, naturally, unflaggingly kept at it as she primed herself to undress. Zero hadn’t uttered so much as a single word when she’d roamed in, save for his acknowledgment of her newfound presence by distractedly pointing at her pending wardrobe. Her new threads resided at the cabin’s center, coatrack and stool overbrimming with fetish kit and gear.
 
Zero snaped his fingers; the pace of C.C.’s blowjob summarily hastened, her exertions shifting to a much more spirited tempo. He’d arranged for ‘diner’ and a show.
 
He needn’t clue her twice.
 
Straightaway did Kallen licentiously begin disrobing herself right before her Commander, a conditioned form of habit, his appetites clear. She made to discard her red-black pilot’s dress, inchmeal and emphatically unhurried, ponderously unzipping the fly spanning from her collar to her clit. Provocatively she exposed nape, breasts, midriff and cherry (steel veiled though it was), a striptease. As anticipated, extricating herself from the remainder of the already skintight getup proved more difficult, fresh arousal and virgin sweat causing the heavy, stifling latex to adhere and clutch and stick. Half-panting and sore, she’d only just hailed from Knightmare training, impatient and impassioned and roiling with lust.
 
And all the while, the low clamor of C.C.’s licking, slurping, suckling and sucking-off of the obscenest lolly between their gentleman’s legs ceaselessly carried on, with C.C.’s bell’s ever-present tinkling making merry in the background.
 
Kallen’s arms casually contorted themselves into a reverse prayer, the ordinarily grueling feat of self-bondage trivial for its enactor’s abundant flexibility, broken in and long since accustomed to the vicious pose. Once she’d succeeded in cuffing her hitherto crossed wrists to the back of her collar, enviously did she bear witness to Master Zero’s and C.C.’s yet unwavering degeneracy, mildly suffocating, halfway strangled by her regalia.
 
Instrumental to these efforts was a combo of newly rigged and opposing wall mirrors, one to her fore and one to her rear, generating an infinite reflection. Another two, aligned along the same setup, had been prepared to sofa’s respective margins, to the left and to the right. Kallen stretched out her legs so as obtain a better view between them.
 
Never was she not amazed as to how C.C. could evidently manage to sit on her knees for hours on end, nor endlessly work her mouth, tongue, cheeks and throat, going down on their Master sans rest, and yet still emerge from the whole experience absent so much as aching knees or chapped lips. Kallen envied her for that; she herself did not have that semblance of a luxury.
 
Wait, that probably wasn’t a good thing to be in any way reasonably jealous about.
 
What had she done to her mind, and when had she started thinking in such fashion? Kallen already knew the answer of course, she just couldn’t yet bring herself to outright admit it. It was the day Kallen Kōzuki became Kallen Stadfelt, and the incident when she’d first accepted the antecedently spit laden, precum drenched cock of Zero into her own mouth, kowtowing next to a bound, gagged and exorbitantly drooling C.C.; just as that witch was doing right then and there. And C.C.’s eyes, those lustfully vacant, profoundly abyssal, twinkling golden eyes, which had suddenly awoken and locked gazes with Kallen’s own baby blues, had communicated to her without words. ‘You’re his now.’ Then she’d consciously exhibited the snug, black collar encasing her neck, gilded filigreed bell tinkling beneath, pendulous saliva tumbling from her chin underlining the point.
 
‘Soon, one day…’ Kallen vowed.
 
For the first time, Zero spoke, right hand still domineeringly directing C.C.’s bobbing head whilst the left calmly denoted the quartet of polished glass mirrors, fingers together, palm flat and facing skyward. “I installed them myself last night.” Went the synthetically veiled, modulated intonation of his voice. “I’d been privately lamenting the fact that neither she nor you could ever properly admire yourselves whilst servicing me, not to mention the bespoke accoutrements I’d slaved with such passion to provide the two of you with.” His hand came back to loaf upon his seat’s arm, looking down on his concubine as he resumed grooming her hair. “They also allow me acquire a much-improved display of your derrieres, as you can see for yourself.” The free hand designated the mirrored, faint spring and wriggling of C.C.’s hypnotically rocking ass, as well as the clammy weeping of her chastity belt. Idly he played with one of her ears, drawing a chagrined whine. “Now we may all appreciate you each to the absolute and fullest possible extent.”
 
Kallen’s shoulders instinctively ventured in covering her breasts, which in her judgement were positively threatening to burst from her leotard at any instant. The bunny girl costume clung to her form, almost as it were a size to small, smooth and with nary a wrinkle visible across its surface. It accentuated her physique; svelte and toned, with slender waist and a generous bust, though she could not outcompete C.C. at the hips. Her outfit was identical to that of her (soon to be joined) kneeling compatriot, save that Kallen’s, as opposed to C.C.’s nigh all black garb, was a mixture of hot and lighter pinks, the former for the ears and leotard, and the latter for the pantyhose. The bowtie to her ringed collar matched the deep red of her hanging, combed over locks. 
 
Kallen Kōzuki, Q1, was Zero’s soldier, his Queen, his ace in the hole, fiery, dominant, fearless, and fully committed to aiding Britannia’s soldiers proudly die for their country since they all seemed so keen on wishing it so.
 
Kallen Stadfelt, however, was now one of two of Zero’s pets, docile, submissive, obedient, and without question, horny; just as intended.
 
Just as she craved.
 
Kallen scrutinized herself via her reflection; her cheeks had bloomed into a magnificent, humiliating and immodest glow. She rubbed her thighs against one another in anxiousness and excitement, the dildo thrumming within her just as steadily as whence it had originally been sheltered, an anal lock conjunctly roosting within her since yesterday. Zero teased, tormented and trained Miss Stadfelt through rigorous edging and unyielding orgasm denial; as both C.C. and their mutual Master had schooled her, masturbating or cumming, excluding Zero’s expressed permission, was strictly forbidden.
 
The temptation was irrepressible.
 
Not to worry though, for just like C.C.’s, Kallen’s chastity belt foiled any mischievous attempt at unsanctioned climax. After her last oral debacle (she’d greedily refused to share the spoils) Kallen hadn’t been allowed, let alone able, to cum for weeks. She was deeply, deeply aroused, soaking wet and desperate for release. The daily aphrodisiac laced beverages she’d been drinking, admittedly in purely self-indulgent and administered fashion, only compounded the issue, to say nothing of the oft-renewed applications of accelerants to her revolving collection of belts, plugs, beads and vibrators; an act exclusively reserved for Zero’s own two hands whenever the opportunity presented itself.
 
To say that Kallen’s old ‘performance reviews’ had taken an indubitably lewd turn, as well as having considerably multiplied in number over the past month, would be an understatement.
 
Going anywhere and achieving anything in her civilian guise had become a veritable heaven hell on earth. Made hypersensitive to the slightest physical contact on a nearly continuous basis, the sole activity she could ever genuinely endow with her honest, undivided attention were her increasingly anguished and vexingly failed attempts at attaining orgasm. Categorically incapable of focusing on whatsoever else of any complexity or note for whatever longer than a few minutes, her thoughts would always brusquely and inescapably veer back towards the one and only thing she could ever actually care for in the moment: cumming.
 
Spending the unavoidable and not inconsequential amount of time required in drilling with the Guren, sporting a toy crammed chastity belt between her legs whilst doing so, did not in the least help to alleviate her unfortunate circumstances either. Accomplished via the squished boobs straddling of an explosively vibrating saddle seat, her body smothered amidst the clammy and constricting latex of her catsuit, piloting the multi-ton, high octane war machine had unfortunately become more alike to mounting a supped up, unstoppable sybian than Kallen would ever care to admit.
 
“Maintain proper posture Kallen.” Zero instructed, collapsing her reverie. “It would be little better than treason to have you conceal such a beautiful figure from my sight, hunched over as you are.” He explained.
 
Huffing in oxygen, Kallen fidgeted in place as she coerced herself back into stance, interwoven, cross cuffed wrists rigidly huddling between her shoulder blades.
 
“Touch you elbows behind your back.” Reverberated his next order. She did so, her straining muscles struggling to maintain the cruel, unnatural position. Her lungs burned. Something spattered mutedly against the floor.
 
“Walk back towards me.” He voiced.
 
Kallen obeyed, and perceived in the reflected images as to how his helmeted leer impassionedly ogled the swagger of her legs and the sashaying of her hips as she retrogradely strutted towards him, himself concurrently petting C.C.’s still perpetually swinging mane, her bell tinkling.
 
“Halt.” He told her. She stood easily within his reach, her and C.C.’s heels less than a finger’s width apart. Unceremoniously, he extended his arms and bolted her elbow cuffs together, binding them.
 
“Freeze.” He dictated, before carrying on. “It would appear to me, Miss Bunny Girl, that your tail is missing. You are not up to proper protocol.” Zero reflected.
 
Kallen’s tail wasn’t, in fact, missing; the large, puffy, snow-white extension was buttoned right atop her tailbone. He meant a tail functioning as C.C.’s did; the one which when up her ass. His free hand palmed and trailed along Kallen’s caboose, copping firm, muscular and bountiful feels at will.
 
“We’ll have to rectify that, I suppose.” He murmured.
 
Kallen shivered. She felt him unsnap the accessory before arbitrarily tossing it between her legs. It landed afar to Kallen’s front; to him, out of sight and out of mind.
 
‘Wait, we?’ She pondered.
 
“Kallen will be borrowing yours then C.C..” He’d shifted his focus earthwards.
 
She felt her eyes bulge. ‘No.’ Thought Kallen in horror.
 
“But first...” And Zero sighed. “Savor it.” Was the writ.
 
As the man insouciantly sagged into the upholstery behind him, Kallen could but stew, C.C. churlishly nursing on their Master’s rod as he cummed, and cummed, and cummed. She was positioned closely enough that she had to side eye the peripheral mirrors to observe them more aptly, the jeering fanfare of C.C.’s feasting adding insult to injury, a vivid bruise to her ego.
 
As his cock cleared the luxuriating hospitality of C.C.’s heated mouth, bathed in the thick glaze of her saliva, his sopping wet member still stood painfully, maddeningly erect, a sleek cock ring tightly fitted and encircling its base, his balls swollen. Kallen’s blush darkened; with past recollections to build upon, she could already imagine the intense pungency of its scent, the bitter aroma of its taste, and her own supple, velvety, airtight lips faithfully, diligently, meticulously, gliding along its length. 
 
‘Patience.’ She spurred herself.
 
Without urging, C.C. sucked, slobbered and licked clean the spasming member with rehearsed and ingrained reverence, greedily hoarding the residual seed, semen and cream all to herself. Their lethargically recuperating Master lovingly cooed sweet words and the phrase “Good Girl” over and over into her ears.
 
“You’ve done well C.C., but from now on you’ll have to resist swallowing. I want you to save those leftovers for Kallen down the line.” Zero belatedly verbalized. C.C.’s bell tinkled as she nodded silently in deference, her pink tongue stained white.
 
‘Oh. Kami.’ Went Kallen’s elation shame.
 
From the drawer of the left end table, Zero retrieved one of the colossal ball and phallus gags he so loved having herself and C.C. ‘practice’ on, temporarily consigning its glossy, ebony form to his lap. Then he fetched an impressively laden keyring from inside his coat pocket, unorthodox orchestra rattling in a high-pitched tune.
 
Kallen gasped, as quietly as she could, when he unbuttoned her leotard’s soused crotch, revealing her belt, and pulled on her anal lock.
 
“Let us see how you have improved in this department, Miss Stadfelt.” He mocked.
 
There was feeble click, and Kallen quivered as Zero lazily untwisted the screw which determined the plug’s diameter swathed by her rectum. She furtively huffed as he sluggishly began to tug it out, purposefully dragging out the process, to her embarrassment and agitation, and to his satisfaction, before finally, the whole thing simply schlorped out all at once, with both toy and asshole bathed in sodding lube.
 
As Kallen tried (and failed) to recompose herself, her Master commented. “As clean as a whistle, you can still see the metal gleam in the light. I’ve done well with your enemas Kallen, haven’t I?” He was inspecting his freshly liberated ‘prize’, rotating it this way and that as if it were some ancient archeological artifact worthy of his interest, brilliant, pristine alloy untarnished and shining, dribbling semi-transparent, pink lubricant.
 
“Yes sir, Master Zero.” Kallen bashfully replied, her vocals wavering. She had to keep staring straight ahead, chin up, back straight and her head kept tall, no matter how much she so mightily wanted to bury it in the proverbial sand. More lubricant torpidly leaked out of her gaping sphincter.
 
“Now then.” Said the man, dropping aside the anal plug onto the nearby empty tray (it went ‘Plink!’) and retrieving the gag in his lap. “Best to bestow this with some actual taste before giving it to lick to C.C.. After all, it behooves me as a leader to listen to others’ advice; apparently the zest of silicone isn’t all that appealing.” Kallen could detect the absolutely tickled tone of his speech, his body language amused.
 
In the mirrors, Kallen saw as C.C.’s eyes, which had been naughtily and enthusiastically spectating Zero’s toying with her so far, comically bug out as they widened hysterically.
 
“Nuuuhhh…!” Whined the witch in a vexed and betrayed guise; had she not, after all, served him well?
 
“Oh, come now C.C..” Retorted Zero, phallus portion of the gag already slipping inside Kallen’s prat with nary a hitch. His inflection liberally oozed mirth. “This is hardly the first time either of you will have been through this.”
 
‘As if that made it any better!’ Mulled over a (repeatedly) squeaking Kallen, as her Master unhurriedly pumped the lewd prosthetic within her, dragging it’s not so inconsiderable girth and flanged tip along her pre-dilated insides. Somehow, she thought she might have felt less sheepish if he’d deigned to befittingly gag her. A girl could dream.
 
“And besides.” Continued the rebel leader. “The lube is flavored.”
 
C.C.’s still furious, bellicose and defiant eyes narrowed more so amid their sockets, brat that she was.
 
Not that it mattered, as Zero ultimately salvaged the toy from Kallen’s rosebud with another schlorp (and gasp) and, clearly content with the solid, homogenous coating he’d painted it with, advanced onto C.C., as if believing himself a wolf stalking his prey. He was.
 
And so did C.C., as the young lady, now outragedly bleating and growling and squealing (as merited the bunny girl she was), with her broad, fearfully aggravated eyes and head frightfully shaking ‘No, no, no!’, rebelliously ventured to weasel herself out of her Master’s perverse vision and brainchild, her bell tinkling up a storm.
 
C.C. (barely) made it a half a meter before her leash, transiently forgotten in the victim’s occasion of panic, violently decided to reassert its affirmation of existence; C.C.’s neck abruptly came to a standstill as the collar’s chain went taut, and the knee shuffling figure most hastily fell face first onto the ground. She hadn’t even cleared the edge of the plush purple pillow she’d been blowing her Master from upon just minutes ago. She whinged aloud at her tragic failure.
 
Zero knelt at his mistress’ side and tutted in dramatic, feigned exasperation. “Oh, my dear C.C..” He began, his free, gloved hand methodically gathering up the scattered, lime green strands of her now frazzled hair. “And to think you’d been such a Good Girl today, what a shame. Have you forgotten, or do you seek yet again to forsake your lessons? ‘Good girls are disciplined. Good girls do not complain.’ That wasn’t very disciplined of you C.C., now was it? That was you complaining, yes?”
 
Tightfisted, he wound the makeshift ponytail round his palm.
 
The futile racket of chains cyclically going tense and slack. The squeaks and creaks of straining leather. The rustle of velour beneath pinioned, fumbling flesh. A huff, a pant, a moan of surrender.
 
“Ho Hahsah Heho.” Lamented C.C.. In her excessively stringent bondage, she was completely unable to raise herself back up onto her knees, and so laid there atop her cushion, pliant breasts squished indecently to the ground, squirming in unsated arousal.
 
The gentleman shook his head. “And you’ve probably swallowed your boon to Kallen to boot; you tart. Yet another strike against your record to address later, I fear.”
 
C.C. mewled as a comeback, tugging at her bonds, eliciting the sounds of chains and a bell. Zero admired the view.
 
Dripping gag still in hand, Zero opined. “Well, it’s good to see that at the very least you still remember how to correctly address me, so perhaps you aren’t a total loss. I’ll have to think on how to commensurately punish you later, but in the meantime…” And without further ado, as he heaved upon her grappled hair, in went the ready gag. Bypassing erstwhile exposed and parted lips, the man gingerly drove the gag past the ring at C.C.’s chops, bulldozing its way over her talented tongue (which menially botched its chance at holding off the unwelcome intruder) and slid it, down, down, down into C.C.’s throat. At its terminus, the ball opposite to the cockhead was rotated clockwise into place, a miniscule clack sounding off the windpipe’s capping. The path of the bulge made manifest to Kallen’s sideways peeking stare, Zero had paid no mind to the increasingly supplicating eyes and lone duet of crocodile tears which had traced their way down C.C.’s cheeks, having pushed on nonchalantly and undeterred. Given the ever more flushed, crimson and immodest expression of his courtesan’s visage, he’d knowingly attested these preceding airs as plain falsehoods.
 
C.C. gurgled degenerately, a puny note of whistling emanating from a small hole situated at the center of her freshly appareled gag. It was one end of the straw sized breathing tube built into the dildo now inextricably lodged deep within C.C.’s gullet, the wheezing sound that of her newly laborious struggle for breath.
 
The task at hand achieved, Zero articulated. “Do enjoy slurping on that for the time being C.C., because no matter what you say, I know for a fact that you very much do love the taste of Miss Stadfelt.” He smirked. “And even though this may not be the ‘vintage’ you best prefer, I’m sure you’ll eventually come around to cherishing it all the same. And short of you fancying that, well…” And here the man began massaging C.C.’s throat, standing lofty and proud through her neck, and squeezing up and down, up and down, up and down along the length of the false cock interred beneath, before he stated, almost at a whisper. “We can’t have you getting rusty for my sake, now can we?”
 
The thoroughly wanton expression writ across her features, made obvious to all those persons present via the mirror C.C. faced, and mortifying to the rasping and irate damsel herself, was sufficient enough answer. 
 
Mechanically repatriated from the table, it was at this point Zero debonairly restored C.C.’s blindfold, blasély trussing and buckling it upon her skull and atop her eyes, perfunctorily incarcerating her sightedness once more to the unlit gloom. Having shamefully pursued to plunge her head into her bedding, a despairing C.C. infantilely whining as she did, Zero disregarded his nymph’s stimulating and maidenly protests. Already he’d moved to approach her buttocks, her dulcet petulance a piddling detail.
 
Pressing down on his woman’s spine and holding her fixedly in place, the haste of her vibrator a devilish purr, Zero then proceeded to confidently grab onto C.C.’s still humming tail and, with quite some difficulty, plucked.
 
An unequivocally enormous, carrot shaped butt plug materialized itself from C.C.’s rear passage, bright orange, ribbed and knobbed, extracting an ignominious, muffled and choking cry from the bunny girl it had just previously been housed within. Her head raised itself upwards towards the heavens as she fret, before jadedly crashing back down into her pillow and unto her cheek.  Her bottom periodically twitched, a result of the demeaning and unfairly rapid removal.
 
C.C.’s lively complaint earned herself and said bottom a stiff and robust spank for good measure, the strike echoing amidst the office’s walls, courtesy of her Master and releasing yet another galled, if breathless, yelp. 
 
“Be still.” Zero spoke, though more with amusement than with heat. The reddening flesh jiggled and quaked from the aftermath of the strike, though the gloved hand momentarily loitered in blatant relish. As he unlinked the plug from her false wrist cuffs’ steel tethers, pre-cum sticked and shimmered amongst the more adventurous digits.
 
It was only then that Zero delinquently presented the still droning, soaked and formidably sized toy to Kallen’s mirrored doppelganger. “For you, Miss Stadfelt.” He ominously declared, looming in the backdrop.
 
Kallen stood paralyzed. As he un-knelt, a chained leash, she assumed her own, emerged from the innards of Zero’s coat.
 
At a standstill right to her back, Zero enounced. “Turn around.”
 
Kallen did so. He clipped the leash to the ring of her collar, shrouded underneath her bowtie. He pulled her flush, towering over her as her damp rack lewdly squashed against his chest, cool metal leash buried between her two heated breasts whilst his other hand aligned her new, ad interim deactivated, bunny tail to its hitherto promised destination.
 
Kallen’s breathing shut off and lapsed entirely, eyes not daring to look netherward.
 
“Relax.” He counseled facetiously.
 
Then Zero pushed. Kallen eyes popped, and her mouth gaped.
 
The further in it went, the grander her disbelief and incredulity became, ridges and bumps gyrating within her bum as her Master eased, negotiated and facilitated its entrance via ‘screwing’ it in. As C.C.’s and Kallen’s own’s mixtures of juices and lubes aided in its insertion, the plug’s circumference swelled to the rank limit of what was even allowed by the anal ring of her chastity belt. Incapable of fully mastering her body’s pushback, her derriere tried to flee, curled toes rising, only to be mercilessly brought back down to heel by the pitiless tug on her collar, until, finally, finally, the plug’s waist was met, and the tail well and truly sunk into one of Kallen’s most intimate of venues.
 
“uahh…” A near inaudible outcry as she gave voice to her sentiments. It was in!
 
Kallen’s heart thrummed beneath her chest, lungs grasping for air as clarity gradually returned to her faculties. For lack of a better word, she felt ‘full’; her new ‘companion’ flagrantly more prominent, conspicuous and discernable than the last two, at least on the level of personal comfort anyhow. Without delay, gloved hands refastened clothes and began to possessively fondle her rump. Right.
 
“Good Girl, Miss Stadfelt.” Zero praised.
 
As if Kallen’s cheeks hadn’t already tinted themselves a scarlet rose. When had she become so easy?
 
“You handled that undertaking rather well. I can honestly say you even had C.C. beat there as you took it.” He appended.
 
C.C. objected out of feignedly(?) hurt pride via some dramatic warbling and miserere squawking. A second, more ferocious spank soon thundered out, and then a third, deafening, ensuing half-asphyxiated moans positively gushing with arousal, Zero making no supplementary comment. C.C. wasn’t fooling anybody.
                                                                                                                                                                                               
Kallen’s cheeks bloomed redder still, crowing and yet jealous. ‘Damnit!’ She mused.
 
“Now then, let’s settle you in for service, shall we?” Zero rhetorically laid out. He heaved on Kallen’s tether, past a still moaning C.C. and onto the awaiting sofa. The redhead moved awkwardly and bow legged, courtesy of her newly nestled, giant orange cork, and despite the give of the furniture’s stuffing, hushedly chocked as a Zero sat her ass down. Facing away from him, she contemplated her cotton tailed tush from within one of the mirrors.
 
From the storage compartment of the end table to the sofa’s right, gear similar to that Zero had used in so assiduously immobilizing C.C. emerged, the blindfold though red rather than black, the chains and steel implements just as chrome, and the harness gag a twin, ringed, web of (again red) leather straps and all, assembling them amidst Kallen and himself in preparation.
 
“For the asymmetry and theme.” Zero explained. “I find that, as a set, this style fits the both of you quite well.”
 
He did not proceed to more heavily confine her just yet, however. With the distinctive snap of a carabiner clip being unlatched, Zero unhitched C.C.’s leash and helped the then still prone, blindfolded and drooling girl to grovel.
 
“Up you go C.C..” He gayly pronounced, a strained breath announcing itself as he lifted his captive first up and onto his lap, and then just as swiftly sheathed his (thus far too long neglected) erection into the loosened warmth of her recently freed anal cavity. C.C. groaned as she slavishly enveloped said length with no other recourse. Her captor had needed to take heed of her spreader bar, straddling it with his legs as C.C. was in turn forced to straddle him, trapping the restraint beneath his thighs and therefore keeping C.C. firmly in place merely via the weight of his own body. “You’ll be much more comfortable parking yourself on this, I’m sure.” He lecherously amended, hands cupping the young woman’s supple waist, reveling in his uncontested dominance. “Now get to work.” He bid.
 
And C.C. heeled to, incapable of (and disinclined to) acting otherwise, dutifully rolling her hips, energetically pitching her waist and subserviently, zealously, ceaselessly tossing her rear, striving to satisfy her Master by utilizing every arduously clawed back and recouped morsel of her body’s heavily limited motion to the best of her abilities. Spittle passively bubbled up from between her gagged lips, her cleavage shook and danced just below his chin, and her bell tinkled as she rocked, gurgled and mewled.
 
Briefly appeased, Zero’s helmeted face and upper torso angled themselves back towards Kallen, his mistress’ ministrations continuing uninterrupted. “Now for you, Miss Stadfelt.” He casually spoke. 
 
A pair of salmon dyed leg binders awaited her. Leather, lace-up and studded with gromets, Kallen pre-empted her Master’s next move by proactively tucking in her legs, effectively kneeling upon the sofa. As the tips of her heels dug into the buns of her bum, Kallen eyes gazed into their own purple hued reflections, pleadingly beating her lashes at Zero’s fogging helm.
 
Spare the rod, spoil the child.
 
Kallen groaned in her frogtie, leg binders almost painfully cinched; there was no give in the lacing.
 
She’d brought this on herself.
 
“And seeing as to how selfishly important the considerations for your own comfort appear to be today, why not also remove the temptation these naughty little things might bring?” He thought allowed.
 
Kallen’s mildly rough, Knightmare controlling fingers frivolously and inanely finagled in the air as if they had so much as a chance at messing with their owner’s bonds; a twain of scrupulously lashed fist mitts were their just desserts, and a good measure of additional superfluous security.
 
Zero held Kallen’s ring gag up to her gob. “Now open.” He demanded.
 
She acquiesced, eager, and willing.
 
Nose straps, cheek straps, chin straps, sharp leather bands biting into her skin, rigorously and uncompromisingly enforced around her head, controlling and reigning in her jaw at Zero’s paramount convenience. Tooth enamel gnawed bare steel, whilst locks set upon the webbing’s buckles ensured her gag’s immovability, as well as his unfettered future access to her mouth. Feverish and athirst, she immediately started to drool.
 
Then came her blindfold, pressing down tightly against her sky-blue eyes, and she too was rendered sightless. She listened and could solely hark the tell-tell tinkling of C.C.’s chiming bell, the wet, quick-fire smacking of her fanny repeatedly rising up and plunging down upon Zero’s hot blooded and engorged pecker.
 
Speaking of which, Zero moved her, manhandling and rotating her body about before laying it flat on top of her stomach, large breasts pressed and bulging against his pant suited leg. A hand laxly laid itself atop her red hair.
 
The absolute stench of her sister’s seeping cunt, and of their Master’s sweltering cock, assaulted her nose.
 
“A moment C.C.” Kallen heard. Lightheaded and dizzy, the smell was intoxicating.
 
The bell’s tinkling eased off, as did the labored lurching of hips and tender slapping of damp skin. She felt the upholstery of the sofa stir beneath her as foreign bodies readjusted their unwieldy positions, shifting about their weights with unrushed leisure.
 
Upon the ring of her collar, she felt a tug.
 
Something was hitched, and then let go.
 
It tinkled.
 
The pressure on her head rose; goaded down, her tongue found him. 
 
“Suck Kallen.” 
 
Her lips sealed themselves, encompassing his pulsing cock, and she sucked. Her head bobbed, her tongue lapped, her cheeks furrowed, and her throat stretched, all whilst being guided by the hand of her Master from on high, milking him for all she was worth, humming. He tasted of spit, sweat, cum and C.C..
 
Zero switched on her tail and Kallen groaned, her Master’s rod devotedly buried within her throat.

For a time, the Master would alternate between his two bunny girls, pink fellating, black bouncing, bells tinkling. Later, having gingerly, tardily removed the cock shaped insert from C.C.’s gag and furthermore replacing her lost tail with Kallen’s own anal lock, he’d leashed their collars to one another before having them both kneel before him, rotating roles as one fellated him with simultaneous tit job, and the other fondled his rocks in synchronous concert. Other times he had the double act conjointly worshiping his erection, with two sets of lips and a duet of tongues trading places at root, stem and glans with splendidly conducted grace.
 
Occasionally the couple would, at his(?) behest, play with each other, and Zero beheld as they pressed their bodies and docked their busts, tongues teasing cleavage, savoring long necks, triggering sensitive earlobes and dueling amidst open, salivating mouths.
 
And all the while, both Queen and Mistress mentally, speechlessly begged for climax via the combined and concerted efforts of their debauched theatrics and depraved stagecraft, their grinding chastity belts persistently leaking onto their thighs, their calves, their heels and, eventually, the floor. Their Master would have the two girls lick everything clean when most judicious.
 
But they would find no such release, for Zero had not decreed it to be so; to their misfortune, he was simply having too much fun.
 
“Later this evening, in this office, I will be hosting a private meeting with Rakshata. Officially speaking, its agenda will cover the future planned research and development of the Guren, quintessentially inherent financial issues to funding Ms. Chawla’s eye wateringly expensive, if admittedly indispensable, endeavors. It is expected to last several hours.” He recited at length.
 
A pause.
 
“You will both be working underneath my desk.”
 
Reactions differed.
 
C.C. merely kept to delicately, decorously fondling his jewels, indifferent and unconcerned. Zero’s covert ‘employment’ of her throughout tedious, oftentimes closeted meetings was downright typical and customary, and nothing to be worried about. Much ado to the contrary even. Once C.C.’s calculatedly frustrating ministrations had sufficiently gripped both sides’ respective ‘above board’ participants, well…
 
Suffice to say that the mistress often found the blonde scientist a much more generous partner, Ms. Chawla’s oratory talents put to far better use lapping the former’s cunt and rimming the former’s ass, rather than the wasted work of spouting queer mathematical equations or dull engineering minutia. The stench of skintight, imaginary latex arose within C.C.’s mind.
 
Kallen’s head, for her part, shot up in surprise, blindfolded, baffled and shocked, abandoning her post; that wouldn’t do, his cock warmer should’ve known better.
 
Unacceptable.
 
Zero’s palm most exigently pressed down atop bobbed, crimson hair, forcing it down.
 
“Keep sucking, Miss Stadfelt.”
 
She mewled. She swallowed. She sucked.
 
Two sets of moans. Drool.
 
‘Yes, Master Zero.’
