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Sometimes it's the only choice.
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Invisible Hand | The Only Choice is Vengeance
You sit up in the bed, turning to see him gazing down at you. Instinct has you reach for the sheet, covering yourself. He chuckles as he looks down at you, amusement in his eyes.
“What are you hiding, pet? There is no part of you that I haven’t defiled.” You blush for a moment, looking away before finally letting the sheet drop. Your don’t dare look back, but you feel his triumphant, gloating eyes roaming your soft curves. Your cheeks redden from this, knowing you shouldn’t be enjoying it.
This was the conflict, wasn’t it? At least one of them. Anyone else would assume you had the glow of a well-fucked woman basking in the love she felt for her man. That was the intent, after all. And yet the truth was something more sinister. As he moved to dress himself, you examine the reflection of the woman lying on the bed. Her skin aglow, vibrant with youth, dark hair tousled atop her head. The only thing that you see of your former self is the look of confusion in her eyes. The confusion of looking in the mirror and seeing beauty reflected back at them. Eyes unused to the sight of femininity in the looking glass. The eyes of someone who never thought they would willingly spread their legs for a man.
But it was the choice you made, wasn’t it? Your choice drove him to seek retribution on the man who robbed him of his wife and daughter. He drove that drunk driver to ruin until he had no choice but to accept the devil’s bargain: His life in exchange for his family’s financial security. His doctors siphoned your male essence away with their advance techniques, sculpting your body into something soft, pretty and feminine. He bombarded you with mental conditioning, shaping you into the obedient woman he expected you to be. You could not raise a hand to him, but he never dulled your awareness. He wanted you to know every step of your change - so you would know how far you had fallen.
His firm, cruel hand sapped you of all resistance. Eventually you became the submissive, meek thing he wanted - unable to fight back. Each night, he mounted you and ravished your body. You hated him for making you his whore. . and for making you love it. The cocktail of shame and sexual pleasure was part of his conditioning, the final part of his game. No debaucherous act was beyond you and every one of them humiliated the man that remained inside you.
This was why you offered no defiance. He had thoroughly broken you. There was no way you could be a man again. The only choice was obedience. You were too ashamed of what you had become to see your family, and you were too consumed by your master’s pleasure to leave him. The leash he had collared you with was one within your own mind.