Aspen had to watch Fang eat.
She really had to. She’d looked away, pissed off at her own lack of food and growing hunger, but Fang wasn’t having it. She insisted that Aspen had to watch her eat. Why? Aspen didn’t ask but she assumed it was out of cruelty. Some sort of domination via comparative food supply. Fang had food and Aspen did not.
Thanks a lot, Fang! Fucking little fat-thighed Chinese wealth princess bitch!
Aspen did not want to watch Fang, but Fang did want her to watch and so watch she did. That was the way of it. Aspen could not do anything to Fang and Fang could do things to her. That gave Fang the leverage to make Aspen do what Fang wanted.
Enough leverage for Aspen to sit there, hungry, with Fang’s dried pussy juice on every square inch of her face, watching Fang eat.
Fang, extending and emphasizing the situation and her cruelty, ate slowly. Little bites that she chewed slowly accompanied by mms of apparent tasting delight. Which were actually mms of delight at forcing Aspen to watch her indulge while starving her erstwhile “friendship companion.”
Aspen did not think any of this was at all friendly!
Except for the times when Fang was way too friendly.
Fang hung out at the two extremes of friendliness, too much and not enough, and spent no time in the middle.
Aspen’s stomach growled.
Aspen’s thoughts swirled. How long could she put up with this? Not just this breakfast. The lack of breakfast. The whole thing. The six months mentally stretched before her and they felt like six centuries.
Was this worth two hundred thousand dollars?
Shit, she really wanted that money. And it was four hundred thousand counting Rylie. Which Aspen did count. Rylie was her best buddy and it wasn’t even close. A dollar for Rylie was as good or maybe even more important than a dollar for herself. And that was true of every dollar all the way on up to two hundred thousand dollars.
Aspen watched Fang chewing and listened to her mms and thought about money. The money meant a lot to Rylie and her. No doubt. It was a lot of money to them and to most people. But to the Chius? It was probably almost like nothing at all. Almost for nothing, they were getting a lot out of Aspen. A lot more than she’d ever thought she’d give to anyone. At least to a fellow female.
Fang swallowed a well-chewed bite and winked at Aspen, “We have found your best look. A shiny coating of my cum on your face. It defrays the ugliness of your freckles.”
Aspen wanted to retort, “If I’m so fucking ugly, then why do you get off humping my face?”
Fang would probably say that was why she humped Aspen’s face. To cover up her ugly freckles. Aspen bit back the words that wanted to come out of her mouth. She may as well bite them back. She had nothing else to bite! No fucking food!
She bit back her words, mentally chewed on them, and swallowed them down. But she doubted it would put a stop to her hunger.
The damn Chinese bitch had her own freckles! And what the hell was wrong with freckles anyway? Aspen had always viewed the freckles as a package deal. Red hair and freckles. Of course, that wasn’t always true. Some redheads had no freckles. And some people with freckles, many of them, did not have red hair.
Hungry and covered in cum was no way to go through a morning! And she had a whole day of this to look forward to. No, wait, she had six months of it coming!
Aspen cursed her luck. Why did she get the evil twin? Fucking Rylie was probably having a grand old time with Xiang. They probably went shopping together, Xiang buying Rylie whatever she wanted, while Aspen had to go nude. Maybe they watched movies and ate popcorn last night.
What Aspen wouldn’t give for a bucket full of buttered popcorn right then. Instead, she had a buttered face.
Rylie was always so lucky in comparison to Aspen. Aspen knew part of that was Aspen’s general recklessness, but not in this case. She was assigned Fang or vice versa by Caihong. It was not Aspen’s fault that she got the evil twin.
Caihong must know enough about her grandchildren to know Fang was the evil twin. Fang’s sharpened canine teeth were a pretty damn good clue! What had Aspen done to piss off Caihong enough for Caihong to assign the evil twin to Aspen? Nothing!
Well, maybe Aspen has rolled her eyes a time or two at things Caihong had said. Maybe she had also snickered. Holy fuck was she paying the price!
But she thought she was doomed to get the evil twin anyway and not only because of general bad luck or irreverence towards Caihong. She had red hair and Rylie had dark hair. Everyone knew Chinese men were fascinated by redheads and so it made sense that Chinese women, especially fucking ancient fuddy-duddies like Caihong, would have antipathy towards redheads.
Caihong must have assigned Aspen to the evil twin because she resented Aspen’s red hair.
Aspen thought again about trading places, trading twins, with Rylie. She could not help yearning for such a trade.
Maybe in a few days, after Caihong wasn’t so attentive to how the new friendship companions were working out for her twin granddaughters, Aspen could elbow Rylie at dinner and suggest they trade places.
Nah. Poor Rylie. Aspen would not wish Fang on her worst enemy. So why would she set up her best buddy with Fang? Also, she’d have to warn Rylie and that would mean telling her at least some of what had happened, some of what Fang had done to Aspen.
Hell to the no!
Fang eventually finished eating. She told Aspen to wash the pan and dishes. It was so frustrating. Bad enough if Aspen had to wash both of their sets of dishes. But she cooked the food, served the food, watched the bitch eat the food, and now had to wash the dishes. All while hungry! And with dried pussy juice on her face.
Fang watched Aspen like a short fat-thighed hawk as Aspen did the dishes. It obviously amused her, as shown by her indulgent smile of satisfied accomplishment at what she had wrought with Aspen. But Fang revealed there was another reason.
“I like to watch lowly people do menial labor. It is ever so relaxing. It gives me a feeling of wellness, that all is right with the world. Also, low-class people are so often thieves. I must make sure you do not steal by licking my plate clean.”
Lick her plate clean? Gross! Then again, not much grosser, arguably less gross, maybe a lot less gross, than Fang sitting on her face or Aspen wearing Fang’s pussy juice as a facial all day.
Aspen was hungry but not hungry enough to lick Fang’s plate even if Fang wasn’t watching. But she did worry that she might, after a few days, get so hungry that she did yearn to lick Fang’s plate clean.
Gross!
Once Aspen was done with the dishes, Fang said, “Now it is time to bring my new doll back to the doll room.”
Inward groan!
Fang took Aspen by the elbow and pulled her along. Not because she had to. They both knew Aspen was cooperating. It was a little added humiliation. Like Aspen was a child or could not be trusted to go on her own power or would somehow get lost among the seven rooms that were dedicated to Fang.
In moments, they were in the doll room. It brought back memories Aspen would prefer to forget.
It brought back memories to Fang as well, “Yes, you love it in the doll room. You love it so much you had nasty slut orgasm here yesterday.”
Damn. Fang was right. Aspen had cum like a slut, a really sick demented one, in this room the previous day.
Fang added, “As it was yesterday, so too will it be on this day.”
Fang thought Aspen would orgasm again in the doll room? Aspen could not make herself scoff at the idea. It had just happened yesterday. The memory was too clear to deny. Was she less obedient to Fang today? Hell no. She was more obedient. She was more likely to cum in this room today than she was yesterday and she had cum yesterday.
Aspen felt a deep dark thrum. It hadn’t just started. It was like the volume of it, were it a sound, had just been cranked up. Aspen realized the thrum started at breakfast with the way Fang denied her food and repeatedly humiliated her. Aspen had been too upset, too angry, and too damn hungry to note that deep dark needy thrum. But now it was much stronger.
Because she knew here, in this damn doll room, she probably would cum again. That was so humiliating! So sick! So wrong!
But it was also true. And the truth of it, the impending certainty, ratcheted up Aspen’s inner thrum.
Fang elbow-steered her towards the largest groupings of dolls. Once there, she jerked sharply downward on Aspen’s elbow until Aspen had to sit on her bare ass.
“You will sit with your doll friends. You must be as much doll as you can. This means no talking and no moving.”
“Jesus. For how long?”
“How long do dolls sit here and do nothing?”
“All day!?!”
“We will see. I will watch you from time to time on camera view. No talking. No moving. I cannot stay with you. It is simply too boring for me. For someone stupid, like an American slut, she will not care how time passes and how so little happens.”
The Hell! That was so not true!
Fang wagged a finger at her, “Be as the doll. Be the doll. Make yourself be doll. I have collected you and want you to be extra special doll in my doll collection.”
“But Fang! I’ll be bored out of my skull!”
“Only if you had a mind. And if you do have a mind, I do not look at it as a bad thing were your mind to leave your skull. It is your face and body which have worth to me. As well as your quick and happy obedience.”
Aspen made a frown face. There was nothing to say but she was pissed off. She was obeying a lot lately. Sometimes quite quickly. But not happily! She would never be happy obeying this bitch!
Except for when she orgasmed. She could not argue she wasn’t happy when she made her happy orgasm face. But at all other times, she promised herself to not be happy.
Except maybe when she was super aroused. It was hard to be aroused and unhappy at the same time. She’d have to look past those times as not counting.
Damn. It was true that she aroused a lot since coming to Fang’s wing. Not counting sleep, she was probably aroused a lot more often than she was not aroused.
Fang smiled a mysterious little smile, “First, try to perfect your doll craft. I will come here later and make it much more interesting for you. It is likely you will think it is too interesting. And then, after a short time, you will like it very much and you will become more interesting to me.”
What the hell was Fang talking about? She was pulling some Confucius shit there! Way to be mysterious brat!
Fang left.
Aspen sat Indian style. She rested her arms on her knees, palms up. She did not mediate and knew nothing about meditation but she thought right then was a great time to try to take it up.
She closed her eyes. What did people do when they meditated? Did they say a mantra over and over?
Aspen knew just the one!
“I will not let the spoiled rotten rich bitch dominate me.”
“I will not let the spoiled rotten rich bitch dominate me.”
“I will not let the spoiled rotten rich bitch dominate me.”
Was it working? Not really. Aspen was still in the doll room dolling it up, still obeying Fang.
She better change her meditation goal. Bitch was gonna dominate. Aspen had to take it for the team. The Aspen and Rylie team. Hey, there are lots of two-people teams out there in the world. Tennis, volleyball, and all good marriages.
Aspen needed her meditation goal to be achievable. Something she could do.
Or something she could not do….
“I will not get turned on by Fang or anything Fang does.”
“I will not get turned on by Fang or anything Fang does.”
“I will not get turned on by Fang or anything Fang does.”
Aspen liked that one. Realistic. Up to her. She was pretty sure it was already working. She did not feel turned on. Just hungry. And bored.
Aspen scratched an itch above her knee.
Aspen just about jumped out of her skin when she heard Fang’s voice over the walkie-talkie Aspen had not realized was on the floor next to her.
“Fang calling Flame Hair Freckle Face. Respond.”
She picked it up and depressed the switch, “What?”
“I watch you on camera.”
“I know. You said you would.” Creepy bitch!
“I see you itch the knee.”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“Why did you itch the knee?”
“Because it was itchy!”
“No! That is wrong! Dolls do not itch. Do you know why? Because they do not have itches! Yes, I know you are flawed doll, deeply flawed by inferior type of humanity, so you may have itch. However, you must behave like doll even when you do not feel like a doll. So, have as many itches as you wish, but never give them any scratch. Does the American slut understand?”
Horse pucky!
Aspen blew air straight up her face, making her bangs flutter.
“I see that!” yelled Fang through the walkie-talkie.
Aspen blubbered her lips in exasperation.
“I see that, too! Does American slut need spanking to better understand her role?”
Fuck!
Aspen depressed the switch, “Okay. Fine. I understand.”
“You are lucky I tolerate the breathing that makes your little pierced tits rise and fall. You are so lucky to have such a tolerant Mistress.”
Not lucky. Cursed!
Fang instructed, “You need to learn proper walkie-talkie code. When responding to call from me, say, ‘American slut all ears for her Mistress Fang.’ When signing off, say, ‘American slut out.’”
Aspen would never call Fang Mistress! Fuck that!
But she guessed she could call herself an American slut. She was American. Certain slutty things had happened on her watch.
Aspen depressed the switch, “American slut out.”
Her face burned with humiliation and anger. She looked at the walkie-talkie. No more words came from it. She set it aside and re-adopted her meditative pose. She looked at the camera in the corner of the ceiling. It was pointed right at her. Obviously, Fang placed her where she did in order to get the best camera view.
Aspen wondered if the video was recording.
There was nothing she could do about that.
She wondered if anyone else would see any video of her.
There was nothing she could do about that either.
The first half hour was tough but the second half hour was even worse. The second hour seemed to take many hours to pass. There was no clock in the room, so Aspen had to guesstimate.
This was torture!
It was boredom torture! The worst of all tortures?
Aspen remembered something she heard as a kid. She didn’t know if it was a true thing or not. Wasn’t there something called Chinese water torture? Fang was Chinese. Maybe the water torture was actually more like boredom torture.
Aspen felt like asking Fang if she could have the Chinese water torture instead of the Chinese doll torture.
A few times Fang’s crackly walkie-talkie voice accosted her.
“No slouching!”
Fucking bitch! Aspen sat up straighter.
“Keep head straight. It looks too loose. Dolls are very stiff. Look stiff! Look like you need someone else to move you!”
Fucking bitch! Aspen did her best to look stiff. She sure as hell felt stiff.
One time Fang said something about herself instead of directing Aspen on what to do or not do.
“American slut, do not concern yourself with where is Fang and is Fang having good time. I am having a wonderful time.”
Aspen had not had those concerns at all.
“American slut, I know you miss me and wish I was sitting on your face. You must be patient. Do well and I will sit on your face later.”
That was supposed to motivate Aspen?
Actually, Aspen thought at this point, this bored and stiff, she probably would prefer to have Fang sitting on her face. She would not wish for it, but….
It really wasn’t that bad when Fang sat on her face. Well, it was. Socially. Or morally. Whichever. Whatever.
It was hot and humid and intense. Like a little jungle safari in a really limited space.
Being a doll was so fucking boring!
Maybe she should call Fang on the walkie-talkie and… you know… just invite her to come take a load off. Hey, Fang, wanna sit on an American slut’s face? I got one for ya right here.
Aspen wasn’t sure if her sense of humor was working for her or against her at the moment. And she wasn’t even sure if she was only jokingly when she thought about doing it.
Aspen was starting to get a little worried about herself.
