Mirror Image
by The Tome of Ebon: /~Tome_of_Ebon/
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Jun 25, 2011

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This story contains descriptions of an adult nature.  If you are a minor or
person offended by such materials, you should not read further.  This
story does not necessarily reflect any people or practices in the real
world, and should not be taken as reality.

Codes: M/f Mdom anal nc ds magic caution

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Klea frowned as she was lead by the leash in her Master's aged hands to the
sitting room that was so unpleasantly familiar to her. When they entered the
chamber, the hated cheval mirror stood in its customary place in front of the
chair, waiting for their session. Nothing had changed. The mirror seemed
ancient, framed with silver that had been crafted to resemble the twist of
vines and leaves, jewels forming the centers of flowers and the butterfly
wings of rather sinister-looking faeries, their naked, childlike bodies
showing both males and females, their smiles cruel.

There was doubtless some magic in the mirror, and that was what Klea hated
most: the way it always seemed to twist what was reflected in it, a cruel
mockery of what it faced rather than an accurate reflection. She tried to
avoid looking at it, but already her Master's hand was lifting her chin,
making her face the reflective surface.

Strawberry blonde locks flowed silky and straight around a soft young face,
with plush pink lips untouched by cosmetics, her cheeks just as unmarked by
freckles, smooth and pale. Wide hazel eyes gazed deep into the glass,
unblinking for the moment as they took in what was shown. That was all
accurate enough, though.

What was different was the expression on the face. Klea was frowning,
apprehensive, but the image in the mirror greeted her with a smirk of
anticipation, a wicked expression that seemed to do a disservice to the
innocent look that her face would normally carry. When Klea's frown deepened,
the reflection's smile widened into a toothy leer that looked almost...
predatory. Even being on such a sweet-featured face couldn't make the way
Klea's reflection looked back at her seem kind; in fact it was reminiscent of
the faeries shown on the mirror's frame.

The girl shut her eyes as her white-haired Master lifted her lithe, nubile
body up into his lap, his robes spilling open to reveal his gradually
stiffening cock while his hands reached around to massage her modest breasts
firmly; as usual, she was naked except for the leashed collar around her neck,
bearing a tag that indicated not her own name, but information regarding who
owned her.

The old man wasn't as cruel as some could be, Klea knew that from her
training, but while he took good care of her at other times--good food in her
slave dish, a warm bath to wash away the previous day's grime each
morning--there was something about these mirror sessions that always seemed in
some way more horrible to Klea than whips and razors would have been. She did
her best to serve the old man, but it was mere duty; she'd never quite learned
to be eager to please. Certainly, when it came to sitting in front of the
mirror, she would prefer not to do it at all.

Shifting under her, Klea's Master leaned back in the chair a bit, adjusting
the girl so that she straddled over his belly, his cock visible if she looked
down between her thighs. She knew what was expected of her, and with a slight
sigh of defeat, she reached down and took his shaft gently in her delicate
hand, stroking it slowly after wrapping her fingers around the not yet firm
shaft.

"Your slave is hungry for your cock, Master..." she coaxed, speaking out of
rote rather than really meaning it. He was an old man, she knew, and while
more virile than she might have expected, it still took some time and effort
to get him ready; so far as she had seen the mirror was the only obviously
magic thing he possessed. She rubbed her buttocks against him, arching a
little and letting her strawberry blonde hair spill down her back. She stroked
his shaft carefully, firm enough to arouse him but at the same time making
sure not to cause any pain.

His aged hands, each adorned with a single jeweled ring, began to caress the
girl's hair as one might stroke a favored pet, a soft murmur in the old man's
throat as the girl worked to stroke new life into his elderly cock, the flesh
gradually growing firmer, earning Klea an approving caress behind the ear. The
touches weren't really unpleasant in and of themselves, but Klea wasn't
aroused by the man she'd ended up serving; he was far too old for her tastes.
It was the sense of duty she'd been taught in her upbringing as a slave that
allowed her to submit to doing this with him, not desire.

Once he'd grown hard, the old man handed her an elegant glass jar containing
lubricant; carefully, the girl took it and began to smear a large dab over the
length of his shaft, making sure to get it all over while he replaced the
container on the nearby table. It had practically become rote by now, part of
the ritual that she knew so well even as she wished it might one day change if
not end completely.

"Good girl." the old man rumbled in his gravelly voice, just as always now
that she'd learned what was expected of her in this ritual.

Once his cock gleamed with the lubricant, Klea, blushing, wiped some of the
excess lube into the cleft between her freshly-cleaned buttocks, her eyes
lidded, though she chanced to glance in the mirror and see her mirror image
doing the same with a lusting smile and a sensual wiggle of her ass. Klea shut
her eyes tightly.

Now that they were both prepared, the old man grasped Klea's hips and helped
her into place atop him, his cock stiff and eager now that she'd awoken it.
Slowly, he pushed his cock into her anus--always her anus when they were at
the mirror, leaving her warm, plump cunt empty and needy, teased more than
satisfied by the tickling of his fingers. She knew by now how obscene she
looked with that lusting pillar ramming up into her rear and her delicate
female folds left open and waiting; she could see it in her mind without
having to look into the glass, but that humiliation paled in comparison to
seeing the face of her mirror image.

She tried to look down, to look anywhere but into that devilish mirror, but
his firm hand forced her chin up, strong enough to fight her resistance when
she gave it, and her eyes opened to see that face, the face that looked like
hers but wasn't; grinning sluttishly as she cuddled her chin into her Master's
hand. The Master himself, for his part, seemed unchanged, an expression of
subdued pleasure on his wrinkled face as he thrust into his slave's anus at a
steady pace, drawing the act out rather than hurrying it. That bothered her
too. She changed in the mirror, he didn't. She didn't understand why only she
looked different in the mirror, but it made her skin crawl.

The old man's thrusts were pumping up into her rectum now, and she felt the
obscene fullness of his cock moving inside her; at another time she'd be able
to take it as she'd been taught, but she felt too tense on these occasions,
knowing her mirror image was there, basking in wicked delight at being
sodomized on the other side of the glass. A whimper escaped her throat, her
anus flexing tighter in unison with the sound.

Opposite her through the glass, the image in the mirror moaned silently,
rolling her shoulders sensually as she tossed her head back and licked her
lips, her hips grinding her ass back down against the impaling cock that
filled her. Klea looked down and saw that the motion of the hips was close to
true; she had begun moving hers out of training, barely realizing that she did
it, but there was none of the pleasure in it that she saw in the mirror when
her Master's hand once more tilted her head up.

Despite the old man's age, he began to thrust faster into her sweet round
rump, his hips slapping against her buttocks as he leaned forward, causing
Klea to squeal and tilt torward the mirror. Her face pressed against the
glass, cheek to cheek with her hated mirror image through that thin pane, her
eyes turning to meet those of the image in the mirror, one face a scowl, the
other a leer. She pulled back, wanting to be farther from the mirror, and
getting the impression that the image on the other side would rather draw
nearer and kiss her lips. She jerked away from the glass swiftly at that
thought, pressing her back to her Master's chest instead, and the image was
forced to comply. She had that much power over it, at least, though the
reflected face still taunted her maddeningly.

Klea let out a sudden moan as her Master's fingers began to rub her nether
lips and her clit; it wasn't enough for her, but it did feel rather nice
despite her tensions. She had her eyes closed, but was soon reminded of them
by a touch of the old man's other hand to her face; if she kept her eyes
closed too long, she'd be in trouble, she'd learned that much in the
repetition of this ritual each day. Once she was looking obediently at the
hated mirror once more, his hand slid down from her chin to squeeze her
breasts gently, rubbing and cupping them, occasionally pinching her nipples in
ways that were more painful than pleasurable, though mild.

The thrusts inside her rectum continued as he stroked her hair and shoulders,
the occasional moan of pleasure escaping his throat as he closed his eyes and
let himself savor the sensation of her young body around him. She pushed back
against his thrusts, trying to time herself to them as so that the movements
would be intensified. Just as hardening him up took time and care, so did
making him cum. Klea tried her best to make it happen quickly, more for her
own sake than his; the sooner he was done, the sooner she could leave this
room and the sight of that despicable mirror.

Finally, she heard the old man roar in ecstasy, his hands gripping her breasts
firmly as his cum was at last coaxed out by fucking the ass of a slavegirl
several decades younger than himself. With each heave of his pleasured old
cock, some of his seed shot into her rectum, splashing her inner walls as her
anus flexed to milk him, the ejaculation soon ending to leave him blissfully
satisfied, remaining inside her for a time to enjoy the sensation of her warm
inner walls around his softening shaft.

Every time they repeated this ritual, Klea felt weaker, tireder, her mind
muddled long afterwards. She felt he couldn't have failed to notice this
effect, but it never seemed to stop him. Every day, in front of the mirror,
the image of her torment twisted within the frame of bejeweled silver. Worse,
that feeling had seemed to grow more intense in recent sessions; where it had
once been an exhaustion that might have been passed off as a natural reaction
to the stress of being used this way, it had grown more and more noticable
until Klea felt she barely had the energy to do more than slump into bed
afterwards.

This time, she couldn't even wait for bed, but slumped forward against the
surface of the mirror, eyes falling shut as she let out a feeble groan. If her
Master responded to it, she wasn't aware; she had passed out completely.

When Klea awoke, there was nothing but dark, grey fog all around her, cold and
swirling. Looking down, she couldn't see her body; it was only with effort
that she could sense that her body was there at all, still sluggish and barely
able to move as she willed it. She tried to move about, but still felt too
exhausted, and even if she could move, there seemed no way to explore the
foggy realm she found herself in; she couldn't feel anything but foggy air in
any direction she reached. Maybe she was dreaming--but dreams never seemed so
boring and dreary as this. There was nothing to do but wait, and think as much
as she could, though even the inside of her mind felt foggy.

Just as the waiting began to seem endless, an eternity of dark grey, the fog
before her suddenly cleared, and she saw a window of glass, and through it a
familiar vision, her Master drawing her up onto the chair that sat before the
mirror, settling her on his lap once again. And as she watched, she was
helpless to do anything more than mimic what she saw on the other side, except
that she wept bitterly as the image on the other side laughed merrily and
licked her lips, reaching for the old man's shaft.

"Your slave is hungry for your cock, Master." were the words shaped by the
lips of the girl that Klea saw through the mirror, and though the sound didn't
reach her through the pane of glass, she knew that the other her that sat
astride her Master in the familiar sitting room meant every word.  

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