by Trent Evans
He nodded frantically, his hair swinging. With a satisfied smile and a last squeeze of his scrotum — simply because she could — she released him, returning to her washing.
“Don’t get used to this either,” Darynn said. “One of your regular jobs is going to be tending to your Mistress in her bath, so you’d better pay attention to how this is done.”
Anna moved behind him, spreading his buttocks wide. “Keep them soft, loose. Good boy.”
His muscled thighs trembled as she thoroughly scrubbed his crease, using her soapy fingertip to circle the smooth, dusky anus.
“Want me to get the Fleet ready too?” Darynn’s eyes sparkled as she peered around his ribcage. “Might do to have him cleaned inside and out, right?”
His entire body began to tremble at the blonde’s cool voice.
“I think so.” Anna stroked the dark, wispy curls surrounding his anus, using her thumb to circle his clenching bottomhole. “Might teach him some much-needed humility too, I think.”
The words hopelessly muffled by the gag were unmistakable pleas, the sound of them making her womb clench deep in her belly. This was far sweeter than she’d ever imagined, the dark pleasure in subjugating the man carrying a power she’d never imagined. She wondered at that moment just how deep she wanted to take him, how far down she wanted to push him.
What she wanted to make out of this formerly free male named Quinton Trask.
Rather than use an enema bag, Anna favored a hand-held clyster style, one with a threaded end that allowed one to adjust the size and shape of the nozzle to be inserted inside the unfortunate recipient’s anus.
Like everything else, the nozzle she chose for him would not be easy to accommodate.
“Not wasting any time, I see,” Darynn said, chuckling as Anna threaded on the broad, stainless nozzle, the steel catching the light. The cell was silent for a moment as Anna applied the clear gel to the tip, coating it well with the lubricant.
“He needs it. Surrender suits him,” Anna said, pressing the end of the nozzle against his tight bottom hole. She raised her voice so her victim could hear. “Now, I want you to push back, just like with your little plug. This one is bigger though, so it’s going to be harder to open for it.” She patted a trembling buttock. “But you will open for it, boy, no matter how long we have to work at this. Then you’re going to take your enema quietly and obediently. You got me?”
She could just see his reluctant nod. She smiled at the way he keened as the nozzle pushed into his anus. Surprisingly, he opened quite wide, and though he protested loudly as the widest part of the steel forced open his sphincter still more, he quieted once it was fully seated.
Anna caressed his back as she held the clyster still for a moment. “This is going to feel odd at first, but just stay still for it. The cramping will hit almost immediately. When it does, take deep breaths. You’re going to hold this for a few minutes, until I think you’re ready to void. Understand?”
His body trembled like a leaf in the breeze, but he said nothing.
She slapped his ass, hard. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer.”
Moaning, he nodded his head once more, the blush so deep it even coursed up the nape of his neck.
As she pushed in the plunger, Quinton jerked once, twice, his breathing labored.
“That’s it,” Anna said, emptying the clyster. “You hold that while we finish you up. Squeeze tight as I pull the nozzle out. You spill a drop and I’m going to refresh the welts on your ass with my crop.”
He was almost panting as she drew the steel from his bottom, the sphincter closing immediately, desperately. Quinton’s thighs shook, his buttocks clenched so hard the cleft between them was but a thin line. His teeth clamped the gag so hard it looked as if he meant to tear it apart. His eyes were shut, the faint laugh lines at the corners deepening as he grimaced.
“He’s already cramping,” Darynn said, recharging her cloth in the sudsy bucket before dropping to a crouch to wash down his legs.
Anna eased her palm over the gentle curve of his swollen belly, enjoying the way the large enema made it protrude slightly, making him blush all the more. “You’re just fine, boy. I know it hurts, I know it’s embarrassing. That’s the point of it, so just accept it. It’s not going to kill you.” She patted the tight muscles of his abdomen. “A little shame never hurt anyone.”
“We probably should take him up to the bathroom.” Darynn finished up with his feet, then rose, dropping the cloth into the suds. “Unless you want him to use his bucket as usual.”
They hadn’t subjected him to that particular indignity as yet, saving the voiding of his wastes as one of the few activities they still allowed him to do in private.
“I have a better idea.” Anna pointed up. “Lower him down a little more until he can crouch. Go ahead and free his hands too. He’s probably going to need them.”
“You… oh you’re a cold-blooded bitch, all right,” Darynn said under her breath, flashing Anna a conspiratorial wink as she walked over to the far wall to retrieve the hose. The winch hummed once again.
“Crouch down over the grate, boy.” Anna pointed at it. “Right down now.”
His hands finally unbound, he balanced himself by poising his elbows across his shaking thighs, here and there, white suds still sliding down his glistening flesh. Once again she marveled at the cruel irony that such a twisted man had such a gorgeous body.
At least it afforded them extra enjoyment in the process of breaking him.
“When he’s done, hose him down again.” Anna crossed her arms, standing over him, watching his panicked eyes flick from her to Darynn and back again as it began to dawn on him what was about to be required. “I’ll give him one last wash down there and we’ll be done.”
He shook his head as he fixed his gaze upon hers, his neck and face blushing fiercely. He laced his fingers together across his belly, dropping his head as he groaned.
“The longer you wait, the worse those are going to get, stubborn boy.” Anna stepped close, ruffling his wet hair with her fingers. “Just let it go.”
He looked up at her, jerking his head toward the door.
Anna smiled, looking over at Darynn. “I think he wants some privacy.”
“Call when you’re ready to have him hosed down again,” Darynn said, waving at her as she strolled for the door, the shadows swallowing her up, the sound of the door closing, plunging them into silence once more.
An adorable line deepened between his eyes, a confused sound emanating from behind the gag. Tilting his head toward the door, his lips moving against the gag.
“Oh no, I’m not going anywhere.” She stepped back so she could see the heavy weight of his genitals hanging down like ripe fruit below him, his muscular calves twitching, thighs tense. “I’m waiting, boy. The sooner you let go, the sooner we can get on with your day.”
He shook his head, looking down again as another wave of cramps made him gasp around his gag.
“Come on, Quinton. Get on with it. Remember what I told you — you will hide nothing from me.” He met her gaze, his eyes frantic. “And I meant it.”
Finally, he succumbed to the inevitable, shaking his head as if denying the humiliating reality of the soapy, body-warmed water splashing down into the drain.
“Good boy. Good! Let it all out. I want you clean inside and out for your Mistress.”
When he was finished, he pitched forward onto his knees, his palms slapping against the concrete, his head hanging down, Quinton unable to meet her gaze.
“I know it’s embarrassing, dirty boy. But you’re fine, just like I told you.” She was shocked at how aroused watching his debasement made her. It seemed every time she broke him down, she found another level she wanted to go to with the young man. It was a strength of feeling, of anticipation, she hadn’t felt since those sweet, early days of training Greg, of watching him cope with new and shocking discoveries about himself and his capacity to submit.
T
his was far, far better.
She waved toward the door, knowing Darynn would be watching on the closed circuit system. The door creaked open, and Quinton huddled into a compact mass, hugging his knees, his eyes still averted as he scooted away from the grate, the sight of his deepest shame.
Retrieving the hose, Darynn stood over the prostrate, miserable young man. “All right, tough guy. Time to turn around and spread those cheeks.”
Chapter 13
I huddled in the dark, wet and cold, both women mercifully leaving me alone.
Finally.
It was an experience I could only poke at around the edges, something so shattering I didn’t yet have the courage to look at it in the full light of my consciousness.
I didn’t know it was possible to feel such shame, such helplessness. But that wasn’t the worst of it — no, not by a long shot.
The same twisted, insane thought kept blaring through my head as I debased myself before them.
At least she’s here to see it. At least she enjoys it.
What had happened to me that I’d seemed more concerned with the fact that she was pleased with what she saw, rather than the fact they’d degraded me in a way I’d never thought possible? I wanted to climb inside myself and never come out, but at the same time, the experience was almost… cathartic. I felt now that I’d reached rock bottom, that no matter what they — she — did to me now, I’d be able to endure it.
Other than killing me, how could it get worse?
But another truth gnawed at me, and it was something I didn’t think I’d ever be able to understand. My cock was as hard as a fucking diamond almost the entire time. The only time it flagged — the only time — was when my shame overtook me, dragging me down like undertow, overwhelming even my own incredibly intense, incredibly confused arousal. The teasing was hellish, but I couldn’t deny that I wanted more of it, even as my balls ached horribly, even as my entire pelvic area throbbed with a unique soreness I’d never experienced before. I’d known what blue balls were; this was in an entirely different galaxy from that pain.
And shamefully, all I wanted was one of them to touch me again. I’d been reduced to hoping they’d accidentally let me spill, that they’d stroke me one too many times, and I’d finally be granted a blessed, long-denied release.
I thought I’d gladly endure any number of tortures just to come even once. Oh dear God, just once.
My anus throbbed, both from the way the nozzle forced it wide, but also at the cramping that still clutched my bowels from time to time. I’d never experienced an enema before, not even as a child, and after today’s experience, I never wanted to again.
The thought was insane, of course, as I was well aware it was likely far from the last time I’d be forced to endure one.
My cock twitched at the thought, and I wanted to scream at it. What the fuck was happening to me? That I’d used to become aroused by the degradation and pain of the females I purchased was not lost on me. The irony, the ruthless Karma of it.
But I’d never be able to understand how — and why — my body seemed to betray me at every turn now. Was I brainwashed? Was this Stockholm syndrome? How would one even know, once they sunk down deep enough?
The most important question though was also the one least answerable. Did it matter what this was? The fact was that I’d given in, granted her what she sought. I’d played her game — and lost.
Now… now there was only obedience. Now, there was only pleasing her. And in the process, maybe, just maybe, I’d find some pleasure, some solace, some refuge in my submission to her will. It made no sense, but that was my lone hope, my only chance.
To please my Mistress.
My wrists had been bound before me once more before they’d left. They hadn’t said a word to me, and I was grateful for it, my shame so deep, so profound, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to form speech. They merely washed me down, bound my hands, and left me to ponder what I’d become… and what they might yet make of me.
I could have been mad at all of them, at whoever it was who was really behind what was being done to me, but at that moment, it made as much sense as raging at a cloud for having the temerity to drop rain upon the earth.
The important thing was the here and now. Navigating the new normal — which began and ended with doing whatever I was told, even if it hurt, even if it destroyed whatever dignity I had left. Perhaps in that obedience, I’d learn more, find out what it was that was really happening here.
And if I were very, very lucky, perhaps understand what I was becoming.
* * *
“I hope you know what the fuck you’re doing.” Darynn sighed, tapping her fingernails along the top of the deck railing, gazing down upon the dramatic alpine view of the Snoqualmie Valley. “None of this was in your contract. You realize this, right?”
Anna sipped her tea, savoring the subtle orange note. “There is a famous quote by Moltke that I think of often: ‘No plan survives first contact with the enemy.’ Quinton may not be the enemy, but it applies, I think.”
Darynn extended a hand toward Ivy, who lounged on one of the deep red Adirondack chairs scattered across the deck, soaking in the last of the late summer sun. “Can you believe this bitch? Next she’s gonna be citing Art of War.”
“I have no idea what either one of you are talking about,” Ivy murmured.
“Don’t worry about the contract, Darynn.” Anna shifted, stretching her legs, her seat creaking slightly beneath her. The light wind blowing through the valley carried the crisp, refreshing feel of the coming autumn. “Corddray just wants his revenge — and he’ll have it. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get to have my fun too. Still, I wonder…”
“You really expect me to believe this is just you having a little fun with that asswipe? When we agreed to this job we saw him as approximately as redeemable as something we’d scrape off our shoe. Now, you’ve got him calling you Mistress, for Christ’s sake. Corddray didn’t pay you to pick up a new play toy — he paid you to make this kid’s life a living hell.”
“Nothing wrong with a two-for-one deal,” Anna said, glancing up at the gruff ex-Marine. “Corddray could care less what I do, as long as I fulfill the terms. Nothing we’ve done violates them.”
“So this is for you then. That’s it?”
“I like him.” Ivy’s voice carried on the wind, the soft tone of her words as sweet as her smile. “I think he’s actually very cute.”
“Oh, here we go,” Darynn said, rolling her eyes. “You know what he did to that girl, Ivy. How can you find him cute?”
The pretty redhead frowned for the briefest of moments, then met the blonde’s gaze. “The man in that cell down there isn’t the same one who beat that poor girl so badly. I don’t know quite who he is — yet — but I do know for a certainty that that’s no longer Quinton.”
None of them spoke, pondering those words, Anna knowing instantly that they were the truth, one she hadn’t been able to see herself. She’d seen him as evolving, as perhaps having a chance to become someone other than a jaded, twisted, selfish sonofabitch. But it wasn’t until Ivy’s quiet, but firm statement that it hit her.
He had already changed.
Could she really believe the Quinton languishing in the dark hole below them was capable of hurting anyone anymore? Yes, there was still plenty of defiance in his eyes, even anger, but the selfish, arrogant, dangerously manipulative air… that was completely extinguished.
That defiance and anger she saw there was pure self-preservation, merely what he thought he needed to endure the ordeal he was going through. It wasn’t selfishness — it was survival.
Anna turned her chair toward the unexpectedly insightful Ivy. For all the girl’s efforts to appear meek, unobtrusive, non threatening, Anna had seen her at work on poor Quinton, had watched as she brought him to the brink over and over and over again, the glint in her eyes betraying a hidden strength.
Ivy was a lot more complex than she portrayed hersel
f. Beneath those still waters lurked a keen intellect, a steely resolve… and no small amount of lustful avarice. The sweet russet-haired beauty had very much enjoyed tormenting Quinton. Anna was willing to bet solid money that the girl’s panties were absolutely soaked as she’d sauntered from the cell, leaving Quinton a panting, aching, groaning wreck.
“You still haven’t told me — how it felt.” Anna set her mug down on the glass table, zipping up her windbreaker at the stiffening breeze. “Did you like controlling him?”
It was Ivy’s turn to blush, her fair skin suffusing a deep pink. Finally, she managed to meet Anna’s eyes. “I was scared… but I loved it.”
Darynn chuckled, leaning over the railing, but most definitely listening to the conversation. “Boys. Not so tough once they’re in chains, are they?”
“That was what I loved the most — that he couldn’t do a thing to stop me. That he just… had to take it. Whatever I decided.”
“What did you feel when you took his cock in your hand?”
The girl was — on the outside anyway — about as submissive as they came, calling to any dominant who came within sight of her. But Anna knew better. There was a core of steel inside the girl; she’d glimpsed it when Ivy had clasped him in her hand, watched the way her eyes were fixed on his anguish, drinking it in, reveling in it.
“What did I feel?” Ivy’s nostrils flared, even as she looked off in the distance. “Power.”
“How the fuck do you always know?” Darynn thrust a hand into the front pocket of her faded blue jeans. “I don’t know why I even bother with you anymore, Shaw.”
“Pay up, trick.” Anna held up her hand, waggling her fingers.
Darynn swore under her breath as she slapped the tattered twenty dollar bill into Anna’s palm.
“You… you bet on me?” Ivy’s mouth was a shocked O. “What — what was the bet?”
Anna gave her an indulgent smile, folding the bill and slipping it into the breast pocket of her windbreaker. “I bet Darynn that you’d love it — love working him. Love the power you had over him.”