The Subjugation of Rembrandt Logan Chapter 7: She’s Here

Rembrandt awoke stiff and confined. He hadn’t fallen asleep in his new bed, in fact he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday. He felt itchy, hot, and gross. He couldn’t move his arms either which was worrying.

“Mnn.” He heard. Then his world spun as he rotated onto his back. He smelled something stale and felt warm breath on his face.

Crystal had yawned.

CRYSTAL had yawned!

She’d stayed the night! He’d spent the night with a girl!

Rembrandt took stock of the situation. She was dressed as well, the TV was still running. Logic would deduce that they’d had fallen asleep on the couch last night and that thankfully nothing had happened. His mind flashed with vivid memories of kissing her, more than once, letting her hold him that night. He dismissed these thoughts as dreams.

Crystal rolled again. He felt himself rise with her and he was straddling her now. His hands stuck in front of him, forced to clutch her mounds as she limited his intake of air with her casual strength.

Rembrandt held a unique mix, of pain, fear, and to his shame arousal. He was getting casual second base with an attractive and well endowed woman after all. He might even enjoy this in a different circumstance. That didn’t seem to stop his body though. Nor did it stop Crystal.

At some point in the night she had removed her pants. She was bare from the waist down except for a pair of what he believed were called “tighty whities” with a pink elastic waistband.

Having first hand experience with Crystal’s genitalia and her choice of wardrobe he knew any underwear she dawned did a piss poor job of covering her package when flaccid. This morning they were rendered useless in the face of her biological urges. Morning wood split the opening seam of her briefs and stood proud silhouetted in the light of the television.

Her hand was on his ass now. He squeaked in pain as her nails dug into his tender flesh. Squeezing, groping, and spreading. Oh no!

“Crystal!” He said trying to rouse his amazonian captor.

She didn’t respond. Her eyes were closed and she had a loose and drunken smile. She pressed her lips into his. His mouth was probed, pillaged, and raped by her tongue for a moment so long he nearly suffocated.

“Crystal, wake up!” He gasped. His voice was weak from her unconcious makeout.

“No, Robby!” She slurred. “Don’t. He’s mine!”

Who was Robby? Was she trying to say Remy? Rembrandt didn’t think so. She was clearly dreaming.

“I have a…” she snored. “Boyfriend now. See?”

Her hand went to the hem of his pants and yanked it down exposing his underwear.

“I’ll show you.”

Her dick spasmed and he felt it wedge between the fabric of his boxer briefs.

Rembrandt gulped as her shaft moved slowly up and down the crease of his but and the length of his lower back. A real killer it was, too big for him, most likely even with the proper preparation she’d envisioned. He wasn’t about to lose his virginity like this. Not to her! Not while she was sleeping and wasn’t even aware. He’d protected it for nearly three years to let it gone to a sleep talking, sleep sexing, tyrant!

Of course his personal objections meant nothing to Crystal’s very real physical advantage. He could curse her all he wanted is she had plans on his ass even while asleep there was little he could do to stop her, but there was something.

He hated himself for knowing this, for owing her anything. He’d been in this situation before.

Thankfully he was barefoot.

He stretched his legs down as far as he could and spread his toes. He grimaced as the heel of his foot made contact with warm flesh. He squeezed with the flats of his foot around the shaft. He started pumping his feet and pinching folds of flesh with his toes.

Crystal bucked. He heard her giggle slightly. “Good boy.”

Rembrandt groaned and continued his footjob. His toes were starting to feel slick with liquid. He couldn’t see it but imagined her cock was leaking precum by now. It was a mixed blessing, it was gross, but hopefully it would make this ordeal end quicker.

“Come on, hurry up!” Rembrandt whispered in desperation as he moved his feet in rhythm with Crystal’s bucking. She was getting frisky now, her hands viciously molesting his rear end that sent spasms of pain throughout his body. It made his legs week which worked against his end goal. Then he felt his underwear tear.

Crystal was getting too into it. For a brief moment Rembrandt hoped this meant she was stirring but her eyes were still shut tight. She was either still asleep or an amazing actor. If this was a game she was more cruel than he thought and had been lying to him.

He kept working her shaft. She pumped and one of his soles slid under her shaft to cup a hot, fleshy orb. He was now cupping her balls with his foot. He squeezed hoping to force her to orgasm, but instead it encouraged Crystal to fondle him more. This was slowly bringing him to and edge of his own. His boner had not disappeared this entire time. The fondling and motion of her actions was effectively rubbing him off or her stomach as his own prick slickened and slid between the ridges of her abdominal muscles.

Then he was penetrated.

Thankfully not split in half by a dick out of his weight class but by a finger. He squealed and his entire body tightened from the invasion. The shock was so intense he was brought to orgasm! His eruption sprayed onto Crystal and what was left of his underwear. His motion also resulted in him squeezing even tighter on Crystal.

“Gah!” She grunted and jerked forward so hard he flew off of her finally released. He landed on his back between her legs in the perfect position to receive the contents of Crystal’s own release.

Her hot load, markedly more than his own, flew straight up like a geyser before arcing onto his face, chest, hair, and the carpet itself.

Crystal smiled and rolled over on the couch completely satisfied from her nocturnal emission.

“Great.” Rembrandt seethed wiping cum off his mouth. Even asleep she would take advantage of him. Now he needed to shower, do laundry, and rent a carpet cleaner!

There were two handles and two shower heads in Rembrandt’s bathroom. The apartment complex he lived in was older but had retrofits to pass the new regulations put in place over the last few years. People like him were renting more now so housing had to comply to the recent demand. His mother had apparently also installed a removable, adjustable handheld shower nozzle for his convenience. He hated that she’d taken liberties but he had to admit he was grateful for this.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about things. Tried not to think about what just happened, fried not to think about what would happen, tried not to think about Rachielle. It didn’t work. She would come for him and he doubted Crystal could protect him.

She was tough sure, but physical might didn’t matter. Rachielle had so much influence she often would get her way without having to resort to barbarism. Not that she was incapable of that either. It was more of a hobby for her than a means to an end. She hurt people for fun.

Rembrandt’s touched his side. An old pain, healed months ago, but it still hurt.

He heard the curtain slide open.

“Hey.” Crystal said stepping into the shower completely naked.

Rembrandt paused. He turned his head and blushed instinctively covering his crotch with his hands. “What are you doing?!”

“Showering, duh.” Crystal said turning the handle of the upper shower. A torrent of steaming water poured out onto her body. She liked hot showers apparently and the water temperature was too high for him to tolerate.

“Do you mind?!” Rembrandt snapped huddling close to the wall to avoid the boiling sprays.

“Not at all.” Crystal said continuing to shower. She bent down and grabbed the bottle of body wash he had. It was comically small in her hands. She sniffed it.

“What is this flowery shit?”

“It’s lilac!” Rembrandt hissed.

“Pussy shit.” She grumbled before lathering herself up.

The air hung except for the sound of running water as Crystal cleaned herself. Rembrandt cowered impotently as he watched he soap and lather her breasts. They were large, perky orbs. Her body was toned, defined, strong, and thick. She was bottom heavy, almost spoon shaped with wide strong hips. Curves to die for accented by hard earned muscle. It dawned on Rembrandt this was the first time he’d ever actually seen her naked.

“You just gonna watch or you gonna shower?” Crystal asked.

“I can’t with you here!” He informed.

“You have something to hide?”

Rembrandt glared at her with his hands still covering his crotch.

“Fucking….You’ve seen and sucked my dick at least a dozen times and you’re afraid for me to see you naked!”

She bent down to a knee as close to eye level with him as possible. She didn’t ask, she didn’t order. She just took both his hands in hers and lifted them and him up high. He was completely exposed, hanging in the air by both arms, with scalding hot water hitting his back. He winced in pain.

“It’s too hot!”

She moved on of his hands to meet the other and palmed them both in one of hers to use her free hand to adjust the temperature.

Rembrandt sighed in relief as cooler water soothed his heated back.

“Happy now?” she griped before hardscoping his package.

Rembrandt would have shriveled up in shame if he could. He always told himself he was just slightly below average for his class, it was pointless to compete with the giants. The truth was he was a small man...in every way.

Crystal snorted. “I see why you’re embarrassed.” She taunted.

Rembrandt wanted to die. He could feel her breath on it as she leaned in closer to inspect it and to his horror it rose in the most shameful boner of his lifetime.

“Someone’s a perv.” She grinned. “I’ve been there.”

He felt tears in his eyes.

“Don’t cry.” Crystal huffed in irritation. “It’s a nice shape.”

Was that a compliment? What for.

She started rubbing the length of him with her thumb which was actually comparable in size if not bigger.

“What are you doing?” Rembrandt squealed as jolts a pleasure shook him.

“Thanking you for this morning.” Crystal said.

“I knew you were awake!” Rembrandt snapped.

“I wasn’t but I it’s not exactly hard to figure out what happened. There was evidence everywhere and you left a little puddle on my stomach you twip!”

She continued to stroke him with her thumb as they stared daggers at each other.

“S-sorry!” he relented as she squeezed his cock hard with her thumb and forefinger. She pressed his dick into his chest and forced an orgasm out of him.

“You really are.” Crystal seethed. She let him go now that he was spent and he nearly collapsed. He was forced to hug her thigh to keep on his feet and she actually chuckled at him with a disarmingly sincere smile.

She patted his head. “Now you do me.” She ordered. He turned his head to see a stiff erection looking for attention. Primed and ready for him. She took the body wash and squeezed a dollop onto her cock head.

He looked at her.

She looked back.

Rembrandt sighed. He held his hands up and felt the cold liquid soap poor out onto them. He took a deep breath and grabbed each side of her shaft and started lathering.

“Good boy.” She said.

“A public school? Are you certain?”

“Yes, madam.”

“This is beneath me.” She sighed.

The woman stepped out ot the car her golden hair shining bright in the rays of the afternoon sun. “Pull the car around.” She ordered. “I don’t want to attract any more attention.”

“At once, madam.” He said.

“Keep the engine running, Bertram. This will be quick.

She waited. It was nearly 3:30 in the afternoon and the tide of students were making their way off school grounds but she hadn’t seen him yet.

A few students stopped to admire her. Glances from boys and girls alike. Some even requested a picture. She didn’t blame them. Moths were often attracted to the radiant. It was in their nature to admire her. She almost wished she was still in high school. She could have run of this place within a day. Experience it with him.

She shined the gold button on her lapel. It was the emblem of Preston University where she was a fresh alumni. She was proud of it. Life was more important and she rather provide for him than learn with him. Why did he even bother with it when he had her.

“Rembrandt.” She sighed to herself. “She’d apologize first. Then she’d butcher the bitch that stole him from her.”

“It’s complicated.” It still lingered in her head. She’d need to talk about it at her next session. It shouldn’t bother her this much but it did. That was love after all. She secretly hoped it was a lie. A fabrication to punish her. That she would deserve. But she knew him. He didn’t care about facebook and only changed it to engaged because she’d made him. That meant someone else had made him change it again.

“Rembrandt.” She repeated. He’d run. He’d actually RUN from her! She wasn’t observant enough. She’d pushed him too far, too fast, hadn’t realized his desperation. No longer. She was getting better and showing up now was a sign of her dedication to him. Right? It was. She knew it.

The crowd thinned. Only a few stragglers waiting for rides remained outside. School had to be over right now. She hadn’t seen him.

“Where is he!?” She screeched to herself.

Her phone rang. It was Bertram.

“He’s behind the school, eastern side stairwell.”

“Meet me there.”

“Already waiting, Madame Wanstone. Be warned he’s-”

She hung up on him. She didn’t care what he was doing. They’d been apart too long as it was. She needed to see him.

Her heels clacked against the hard tile with each determined step. She saw Bertram standing at attention by the door in his well maintained black suit and tie. The adamant professional.

“He’s behind the door?”

“Not alone. Three of them. Master Rembrandt and two young women.”

She choked down her rage. Control. She couldn’t afford to make a scene with him near, but later? Who knew.?

Control.

She opened the door. She heard noises. Moans and a slick sound. Grunts.

“Keep going!” A young girl cheered.

A loud grunt. A squelching sound then a gag and labored breathing.

“Good work today.” She heard in a girlish voice with a certain raspiness to it.

“Fuck you.” Rembrandt said.

That was enough! She practically jumped down the stairs and landed with a loud clack. There were indeed three of them. A young girl with raven hair and thick glasses wearing a sweater. She had an odd expression that wasn’t surprise, almost amusement. She was sitting on the safety bars and watching her away from the other two.

The other girl was exposed from the waist down with enraged eyes and an exposed, engorged cock standing high, slick and wet with saliva.

“Who the fuck are you?!” She asked.

She ignored her roaring to go to Rembrandt who was hunched over. His face was red and sweaty. His hair was wild and speckled with white liquid. She’d seen him like this many times. Usually as the result of her own work but today he had been...defiled. Used by someone else. He coughed and looked up. His eyes open wide in shock at the sight of her. He was still afraid. Of course he was.

His mouth quivered. He struggled to speak either from the trauma of what had just happened or from seeing her.

“R-Rachielle?!”