Chapter 6

“Now, bitch!”

Mandi came running. Starla, one of the other dancers, was sitting with her legs spread, glaring at her naked co-worker. At first, the other girls had bullied her, envious of her position - not only was she the most popular dancer at the club by far (especially with the increasingly-growing demon clientele), but Marty obviously favored her as well.

Even his constant mocking hadn’t helped - the other dancers saw that he verbally treated her like trash, but continued to give her the best shifts, the easiest clients; they were second priority to Marty’s star dancer, and he didn’t care who knew it.

In response to Starla’s angry stare, Mandi fell to her knees - not easy to do in heels, but something she’d quickly become good at. Her huge breasts dangled in front of her as her tongue made its way between Starla’s legs and soon had her writhing in pleasure.

“Fuck you’re a dirty one,” Starla grunted, and Mandi glowed at the praise. Her torment had mostly let up once Marty had gotten his hands on the power to turn the girls bisexual (if they weren’t already leaning that way) At the very least, the bullying had taken a different form.

Now, every dancer had free rein over her. If they saw her in the hall, backstage, or even out in public, they could demand anything they liked of her.

Anything.

Over the last few weeks, Mandi had spent a lot of time on her knees, easing the friction between her and the other dancers.

There used to be more to her life than this, she absently reflected as Starla moaned with satisfaction, but she couldn’t remember what it was. There was no way that it had been any more satisfying. Naked in servitude ... she couldn’t imagine a better life.

“Hurry up, slut” Starla moaned. “You’re up next, remember?”

Redoubling her efforts, Mandi closed her eyes. Sex, stripping, and submission. That wasn’t just what she loved the most; it was what she lived for.

It was who she was.

Just a few minutes later, Mandi stepped onto the stage, her shoulders held back proudly, her perfectly toned body quivering in anticipation. She’d hurriedly gotten dressed, but she could still smell Starla’s juices on her mouth, and planned to get close enough to the patrons that they would be able to smell it too.

No matter how many times she did this, no matter how many packed-out crowds she exposed herself to, it was always new.

It was always perfect.

She still remembered that first night. It had been a small crowd - a handful of regulars, including Devlin and a table of new recruits. She’d never seen him be taken by surprise before, but at the sight of her long legs stumbling onto the stage for the first time he’d fallen silent, and turned his full attention to the show.

Looking back, she blushed at the memory of her inexperience. This was before she’d been trained, before she’d learned which moves perfectly accentuated her huge tits, her firm ass. Once the lights were on her and the audience was hushed, she’d barely done more than sway ... but despite her unskilled efforts, despite the fact that only two tables were filled, it had been one of the most important moments of her life.

As her shirt had popped open, revealing the pair of D-cups that Master had given her, Devlin’s jaw had actually dropped. The moment her set had finished, he’d dragged Marty backstage, insisted on proof that it was really her, that it was really Amanda Fell.

“No,” Master had replied. “This is Mandi.”

Everything before was a blur, but she would never forget that fateful moment, sitting in Marty’s office, trembling with fear and arousal. He’d ordered her to sit, and she couldn’t disobey. She’d sat there, straining against the invisible shackles that held her, fighting against nothing and unable to do anything.

The feeling of being bound by a word, of being so obedient she literally couldn’t control her own body- even as she hated it, it increased her heart-rate, filled her with arousal. Under her pleated skirt, she began to drip with need, uncontrollably rubbing her legs together as Marty spoke.

“If you hadn’t come to find me,” he boasted, “you could have been free. But look at you - you came in with no backup, no plan. You came in, dressed like a whore, and gave yourself to me.”

Amanda’s face had gone white as she recognized the truth of what he was saying. But worse, another fact struck her - she didn’t have backup to call, no friends who would support her. She could disappear off the face of the earth, and except her class wondering where she’d gone, or her father wondering why she never called, no one would even notice.

Marty continued to monologue, congratulating himself on how perfectly his plan had gone. Unlocking his desk drawer, he pulled out an ugly clay figure.

“This is an Idol of Kozah,” he explained to the sullen, sad, barely-dressed and deeply aroused girl sitting in front of him. “The hair wrapped around it is yours.”

“Blood magic,” Amanda whispered, and Marty nodded gleefully.

“It takes three days to take effect ... honestly, I didn’t think it was working. When you didn’t show up last night, I thought you’d caught me, or that I’d bought a dud. But now...”

As he spoke, he moved closer.

“Now, you’re mine.”

“No...” she whispered, not even believing her own protestations. “Please...”

“Don’t worry,” he said, reaching out and stroking the side of her face with one filthy hand. “You’ll be happier this way, I promise. You won’t have to worry about demons or money or thinking, ever again. You won’t even have to worry about how you look - I’m going to take care of it for you.

“I’m going to take care of everything for you.”

Amanda’s mind raced, trying to work out how to get out of it, how to get free. But Marty’s words were worming their way into her head, combining with the arousal that still hadn’t left her. She couldn’t deny it, his offer held some appeal. She would never be stressed ... she’d never be lonely.

“Marty, please...” she repeated through gritted teeth.

“Shhh,” he said, holding up a finger to her mouth. She almost gagged at the smell of his yellowed fingernail, but forced herself to hold it back. “All I need to do is say it and you’ll be mine, sweet girl. You’ll be who you were always meant to be...”

Opening her mouth, Amanda went to bite Marty’s finger, hoping to distract him, buy herself another moment to think. To her disgust, she instead closed her mouth over it and began sucking, running her tongue around his digit, tasting everything he’d touched since he’d last washed it - and only the gods knew how long ago that was.

“Good girl,” he said with a leer. “Are you ready?”

Her mouth full of Marty’s disgusting phalange, Amanda could only grunt in response, her brow furrowed, her eyes shooting hate and lust in equal measure.

“It’s time,” he whispered. “It’s time to wake up ... Mandi.”

He’d fucked her. He’d fucked her a few times a day ever since, but the first had been another life-shattering moment. She couldn’t even remember if it had been her first time or not - either way, it had erased every previous sexual experience she’d ever had.

Master hadn’t even bothered undressing her. He’d just grabbed her by the neck, thrown her up against the wall and fumbled with his belt until his pants had fallen to the ground and his cock was parting her wet folds. She was suddenly thankful that she’d only worn a skirt; from now on, she knew, she would always dress to give Master the easiest access possible.

She’d cum and cum and cum again. The moment he’d said her name, she’d realized who she was, what she was. She was a possession - nothing but a fucktoy for Marty, nothing but a sex doll for her Master.

His orgasm hadn’t been far behind as he hissed and grunted, filling her with his seed. It was the first time, but both of them knew that it wouldn’t be the last. As soon as he was done, Mandi fell to her knees, taking his softening cock inside her mouth, licking and sucking both their juices off his perfect phallus.

“Bigger tits,” he mused, and Mandi’s eyes had opened in shock as her boobs obediently grew in size. “Longer hair too,” he added, and a strange sensation traveled through her scalp as her Master’s commands became reality.

A shockwave of pleasure ran through her entire body as she realized that Master not only controlled her actions, he controlled her very flesh. If he ordered her to grow a pair of cat ears, she had no doubt that she would. She was entirely his: Body, mind, and soul.

They’d fucked half a dozen more times that day, Marty adjusting her body each time they did. She took him in her ass, her mouth, and two more loads inside her pussy. She was dripping with sweat and arousal when he glanced at the clock and realized it was time to open the club.

“Get ready,” he panted. “You’re up tonight.”

To her surprise, he’d changed her back to her original appearance, leaving only her new tits and ass (just as pert and perfect as it had been in her dreams). She shivered with nervousness, and Master leered at the sight of his old foe’s agitation.

“Too good for the stage, are you? We’ll see, you little slut.”

A watery smile had crossed her face at the term of endearment. He slapped her on the ass and told her to get out there.

Marty sweated as Devlin held him up by the neck.

“Mandi,” Devlin said softly, his eyes traveling up and down Mandi’s new body. “Interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” Marty said, immediately regretting his decision to chime in as Devlin’s attention shifted back to him.

“I could break you, you know,” the demon growled, and Marty nodded his head frantically.

“You could,” he confirmed. “You could you could you could. But let me ask you this - what happens if you do? You don’t know how it was done. Maybe she stays as Mandi, maybe Amanda comes back. Maybe she’s pissed, and maybe she doesn’t care who did it.

“I know you could break me, but do you think you could take a Protector? Even if she’s not fully-formed, do you think you could take her, one-on-one?”

There was a pause as Devlin narrowed his eyes, thinking about Marty’s words. Slowly, cautiously, he lowered the rat-faced man, and nodded.

“Very well,” he said. “What do you want for her?”

Marty reached up to his neck, thankful it wasn’t broken.

“She’s not for sale,” he replied, and Devlin raised one eyebrow.

“Oh?”

“She’s not for sale,” Marty repeated, and even through the fog that had fallen over her once-sharp mind, Mandi could tell that this wasn’t something her Master was interested in negotiating.

The crowd cheered as Mandi’s top fell to the ground. Since that first night, she’d been trained by the best, and now she was a master at seduction. She knew how to milk the crowd for money, and she worked every tool in her repertoire to cause the bills to fly in her direction.

Not that she saw any of it, of course. The money went to Master ... as it should. He provided her with room and board, and in return ... she danced.

She danced, she served his every need, and she pleasured the other dancers. Plus any demons who paid enough for the pleasure. And she kept the club clean, of course.

To her surprise (and his), Master had slowly become less interested in other women. After discovering that no matter what they did, Mandi literally never wore out, other women had suddenly grown less attractive. Soon, he was even turning down advances from the other strippers, those wanting more stage-time or better shifts.