In the Land of Gods and Monsters, Part One

by Carmen Jenner

  Finally, Ares relinquishes my breast, and the tears spill over my cheeks anyway. God, I hate him. When I glance down, the place where he bit me is already purple, a brand on my flesh. His brand.

  “You want to fight me, call me names, kick and buck like a wild animal? You go right ahead, but there are consequences to your actions, Pet.” He says my nickname as if it were a curse. “And trust me when I tell you that you will not like those consequences.”

  “Do it!” I snap and shove at his chest. “Anything is better than being collared and chained at your feet.”

  “Anything? Why don’t we see about that?” He grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me off the bed. I scream, desperately grappling at his hands, his wrists, sinking my nails into his ropey forearms. I have no choice but to walk with him as he opens the door and pushes out into the hall. He drags me to the top of the stairs, and pulls me down each one, unconcerned that I trip and stumble. Through a curtain of hair, I catch a glimpse of the other Masters. They stand around sipping champagne, their bodies turned toward us. No doubt salivating at the prospect of another show.

  The pain in my scalp is excruciating. Ares drags me down each step, and releases me on the marble floor. I throw out my arms to catch my fall. The shock is jarring.

  “Kneel!”

  I sob and scramble into position at his feet, my face covered by my hair and my back to the other Masters. I don’t turn to look at them, I can’t, but I can feel them crowding around us, no doubt wondering what theatre we’ll provide for them this time.

  “Israel,” Ares says.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “On your knees.”

  A hint of a smile tips the man’s lips. His eyes are bright with excitement. “Yes, Master.”

  I glance up at Ares who appears larger than life with his bulky frame, murderous gaze, and heaving chest. He’s a demon, a vengeful god. He’s not watching Israel. His eyes are burning with ire, and he’s looking at me as if he could raze me where I kneel. “Take out my cock, and suck.”

  My sharp inhalation fills the room. He can’t really mean that, can he? While I’m sitting right here? While everyone else crowds us?

  And then it dawns on me. He doesn’t care about the audience. He doesn’t give a shit about any of them. This little scene is for my benefit only. So I can understand the true value of my life. It’s nothing. I am nothing. A possession, a slave . . . a series of fuck-holes, as he so eloquently put it.

  “Yes, Sir,” Israel’s reply is covetous. I suddenly hate this man, this slave beside me.

  He unzips Ares’ fly and slides his hand inside, pulling out my Sir’s long, hard cock. Is this why he hasn’t fucked me? Does he prefer men?

  Israel opens his mouth and takes Ares inside, sucking him deep and fast, so much more brutally than I ever would. Sir grabs the man’s hair and fucks his mouth, and though Israel gags, he doesn’t need Ares to tell him to breathe. Ares doesn’t need to coach him through it because he’s already been properly trained. Israel has already given over to the belief that he is a slave, and that’s all he is.

  Ares groans, low and animalistic, and it’s such a contrast from my desperate sobs. He fucks the man’s mouth, and he keeps his eyes on me the entire time. “That’s it. Suck my dick, you little whore. You like that, don’t you? When I fill your mouth with my cock? When I fuck your face?”

  Israel nods, all while his head bobs back and forth with the force of Ares’ thrusts.

  I cry harder, reach out, fingering the fabric of Sir’s suit pants, wedging between them and wrapping my arm around his leg possessively. He glares and shakes me off like a dog, forcing Israel to make ungodly choking sounds.

  “No! You do not get to touch me,” Ares snaps, though his voice is thick with desire, with the need to come.

  He pulls out of Israel’s mouth violently and jerks his dick hard until his cum spills over the other man’s face. Israel holds out his tongue for the offering, and then licks up every drop. Worse still, after he swallows, he whispers low, his voice thick with adoration, “Thank you, Sir.”

  I hate them both. I want to scream. I want to hit and brutalize Ares the way he’s destroyed me, but I don’t.

  I sit quietly with my head bowed, watching my tears pool on the marble floor. Ares grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head up until I meet his gaze. “You see, Pet? You’re just a possession, a plaything, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want with you, when I want.”

  “Israel,” Ares snaps as he tucks himself inside his pants and zips his fly. “Bring me a chair.”

  “Yes, Sir.” The slave climbs to his feet and hurries through the doors, returning a beat later with one of the chairs from the dining room.

  “I’m going to spank you, Pet, and I want you to count after each strike.” He leans down and whispers, “You should think yourself fucking lucky that I’m not handing you over to any one of these fine gentlemen, because I can tell you right now, none of them would stop until you were bleeding.”

  The breath catches in the back of my throat.

  He sits and points to his lap. “Now, get your ass over my knee, and don’t make me tell you twice.”

  I scramble to do as he orders. I don’t want him to spank me in front of all of these men. It’s humiliating enough having him use me, and reprimand me the way he already has, but I climb into his lap and he pats my ass.

  “Good. Maybe some of the blood rushing to your cunt has redirected back to your brain and you’re finally making sound decisions again. I’m going to hit you twenty times.”

  Twenty? He’s never struck me that many times.

  He grabs my waist and shifts me closer. I can feel his cock lengthening against my belly. “This will hurt.”

  His hand comes down on my cheek. I jump and grit my teeth.

  “You’re not counting.”

  “One.”

  “Just for that, you get another five.”

  I sob. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  “Good. Seems you can teach a naughty Pet to behave.” He strikes me again.

  “Two.”

  He delivers one smack after the other in quick succession, all with the flat of his hand. I don’t know how it’s possible, but it hurts worse than the bite of his belt, or the flogger he’d used earlier. Each blow is a new hell, and I’m torn between catching my breath and counting. He’s doing it deliberately. He wants me on my toes. He wants me quaking with fear. I hurry to count each smack, but then around twenty I’m in so much pain that I stumble and add three by accident. It earns me another five. Eventually, I let go. I stop struggling and enter subspace.

  Shortly after, I’m floating. I feel the blows, but they aren’t as sharp as before. I’m a drooling mess of a woman, a pet, and I don’t know how I’m still counting. But I keep that number in my head and I don’t miss a beat. After the thirtieth blow, I don’t care that these men have all crowded close to witness my punishment. I don’t care that my ass is black and blue, and I won’t be able to sit down for a month. All I want is sleep and my Sir’s arms.

  “Good girl,” he whispers, as I’m pulled from his lap and delivered into the safety of his embrace.

  He carries me up the stairs and back to the confines of our room. Our earlier struggles are forgotten as he lays me facedown on the bed. Ares removes his belt, and the soft shush of his pants hitting the floor sends chills down my spine. I’m one giant wet noodle as he climbs on top, runs his cock through my wet heat and pushes into my body. I moan as he thrusts inside me right to the root, stretching me with his thick girth, and hitting my womb, waking all my senses. How long have I wanted him to take me like this? How long have I begged him to fuck my pussy?

  With every pivot of his hips, every deep thrust and slap of his balls against my ass, he coaxes me back from the brink of oblivion.

  “Oh fuck, I knew you’d feel this fucking perfect around my cock,” Ares hisses, fisting his hand in my hair again. “Shit, shit, shit. You make me lose my goddamn mind, Pet.”
>
  I grind my pussy against the coverlet, loving the way it scratches at my clit, and the pleasure–pain from Ares’ groin as he plants his feet and fucks me harder, causing a spike of pain through my tender ass. My breath hitches in my throat, my grunts as loud and carnal as his own.

  He shoves his hand under my stomach and pulls me up, his arm banding my waist as I take his length on all fours. “You are not to come, Pet.”

  I whine.

  “I mean it. If I feel that pussy clenching with orgasm, I’m going to take you downstairs again and I’ll hand you over to Hermes myself.”

  “Why?” I cry. “Why are you so cruel?”

  “Because I like to watch you suffer.”

  “You’re a sadist.”

  He groans as he plunges deep. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  I sniff back my tears, but they spill free anyway. Sobs rack my frame even though I’m just seconds away from coming.

  “That’s it, little one. Give me all your tears.” He grabs my hair and pulls, tilting my head back at an unnatural angle to lick the salt from my face. I cry harder, desperate for the release he won’t give me. Begging and crying only spurs him on. “Fuck, Pet, I love your cunt.”

  His thrusting turns to rutting, wild with abandon, animal and untamed, until finally, Ares comes inside me, spilling hot jets of semen as he roars then whispers in my ear, “Mine, mine, mine.”

  He collapses on top of me, pushing my body deeper into the bed. He pants, his hot breath tickling the nape of my neck. Without warning, he sinks his teeth into my shoulder. I scream, but he doesn’t let up, not until I quiet and settle into the pain. He doesn’t need to roar or whisper to get his point across this time. His teeth marks won’t scar. He didn’t even break the skin, but they’ll be forever burned on my psyche. Mine.

  When he pulls out, I’m sticky, and longing for a bath, but I want sleep more. I want to close my eyes and wake to find this is all some terrible dream. My captivity, my cell, his ownership, and my love for him. I want it all to be a nightmare, chased away by the brightness of morning, but I’m not dreaming. I’m wide awake.

  Ares rolls me over. My tender ass smarts with each movement against the scratchy comforter. He rises and walks naked into the bathroom, returning with a washcloth. I watch the round globes of his ass, the heavily muscled back, the hard plains of his hips and torso, and the way his cock swings with each step he takes to the bed.

  He straddles my thighs, and slides the warm washcloth between my legs. My pussy tightens with every stroke, and he teases my clit a little too long, until I’m panting again. He tosses the cloth on the floor, and leans over me, grabbing my wrists and binding them with one hand as he nips and sucks my nipples.

  “As punishment for your behavior, you will not come tonight. Do you understand, Pet?”

  I whimper and wiggle my hips beneath him. It earns me a sharp slap to the breast.

  “That is not the correct response when I address you.”

  “Sorry, Sir,” I snap with an angry sneer, because apparently, I never learn.

  He slides off me, thrusting my knees up to my chest with one hand. He strikes me with the other, two hard slaps against my pussy. I can’t stifle my responding moan.

  “If you continue to act like a needy whore, I will treat you like one.”

  “Yes, Sir,” I whisper reverently, wishing desperately that he would put me out of my misery.

  Instead he turns out the light, climbs under the covers, and pulls me close. Frustrated, angry, and chagrinned, I snuggle into his arms and succumb to his soft caresses.

  “Go to sleep, Pet. Tomorrow I’m going to fuck you raw.”

  My eyes spring open, and that’s how they stay. Because who could sleep after a promise like that?

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Pet

  I don’t know how much later it is, but after some restless sleep, I’m wide awake and wanting. My dreams were filled with Ares—coming down my throat, pleasuring himself, stroking my clit.

  I roll my head on the pillow and study his face. He’s so beautiful in sleep. His mouth is slack, his strong jaw relaxed for once, and long, black lashes fan the light creases of his undereye. Seeing him this peaceful, it’s hard to believe he’s capable of causing another human being such pain.

  It’s that thought that has me sliding my hands down my body as I watch his glorious face. Careful not to wake him, I shift out of his embrace, and slip my fingers between my legs. I’m soaking wet, and my clit is so sensitive it hurts. I take a deep, quiet breath and slowly circle my aching flesh. An involuntary gasp escapes me, and I cover my mouth with my free hand, and still my body. Waiting. Ares’ breathing is deep, restful, so I continue stroking, lightly at first, and then faster. My insides tighten. My whole body is on fire, desperate with the need to come. The sensation begins in the soles of my feet, my toes, and settles low in my abdomen, spreading through my limbs. My orgasm is just out of reach. I rub harder, quicken my pace. My insides quicken too, and just as the first wave crests, Ares grabs my arm and yanks it away. My pussy clenches, lamenting the loss of pleasure. I whimper.

  “No!” His voice booms in the darkness. It seems to shake the walls with the threat of barely contained violence.

  “Please, Sir,” I beg.

  “Are you fucking deaf, little whore?”

  I shake my head. I know he can’t see it in the dark, but I don’t have the words. Adrenalin spikes through my veins, causing my heart to beat erratically against my ribcage.

  “Did I or did I not just ask you a fucking question?”

  I sob, unable to hide my emptiness. He rolls on top of me, grabs my cheeks hard, and squeezes. “Answer me, Pet.” He doesn’t yell this time, but there’s far more menace in his carefully controlled quiet tones than there are in his raised voice.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “And what did I tell you about touching yourself?”

  “That I wasn’t allowed to. That you own my pleasure, and only you decide if I’ve earned it or not.”

  “Exactly. So why the fuck was your hand buried in your cunt?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir.” My voice tremors. “Please, I need to come, please?”

  “No. Not a fucking chance. In fact, I’m going to punish you in the morning, but right now I’m exhausted, so you decide: chair, or ceiling?”

  I freeze as icy dread crawls through my veins. “What?”

  “Chair, or ceiling? Pick one.” Ares turns on the bedside lamp, throwing the room into bright, unnatural light. It burns my eyes.

  “Ch-chair, Sir. The chair.”

  “Ceiling it is.”

  “No! I said chair. Chair. Please? Anything but the ceiling.”

  He leans over me, his hot breath brushing my face. “And I said don’t touch your fucking cunt, because it belongs to me. Turns out we’re both not great at listening. Unfortunately for you, it’s a much bigger problem.”

  “No. Please, please don’t string me up from the ceiling.”

  “Too late, little one.” He drags me out of bed and points to the floor. I don’t have to be told to kneel.

  Ares walks to the mahogany armoire on the other side of the room. He opens several of the drawers before finding what he needs, and returns with a set of leather cuffs that look a lot like the ones he used on me in the first few weeks of my captivity. With them, he holds a large chain. Ares points again at the ground by his feet and I scurry to his side. Though I have no desire to spend the night in chains, I do as he commands so that I won’t earn a larger beating than the one he already has planned. “Hands, Pet.”

  With my limbs trembling, I offer my hands up to him. He cuffs my wrists, and chills run along the length of my spine. It’s indelicate, immoral, but there’s a part of me now that craves his dominance, that craves the things he does to me. It’s the reason I touched myself when I knew he’d be mad. It’s the reason I tempt his demons. I don’t know who I used to be, but I know this: I’m a different person than I was before he
took me. I’ll never be the same again.

  I close my eyes as his strong hands pull me to my feet, and he loops the chains through each of the rings on my cuffs.

  “Please, Sir, please,” I beg.

  “Oh, Pet. If only you’d kept your hands off your greedy little whore cunt, you could be cuddled in bed at my side, but you couldn’t, could you?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Perhaps I should wake Israel, bring him in here to sleep beside me and show you how a good slave behaves. Would you like that? Would you like to see me fuck his mouth while I think of you, look down at you?” He says this last with barely contained rage, as if it’s my fault he shoved his penis down another man’s throat—no, not a man, a slave. As if I were to blame for that whole scenario.

  “No. Please. I’ll behave.”

  He leans in and whispers, “I don’t believe you.”

  “I swear, Sir, I’ll do whatever you say.”

  “Of course you will. You’re chained to the ceiling; you have no choice. Lucky for you I’m too goddamn tired to fuck Israel, or to punish you properly. I’ll save that for the morning.”

  He runs the flat of his palm down my breasts and abdomen, sliding it between my legs. I close my eyes and moan as he slips two fingers inside me. I clench around him, milking the pressure, trying to push myself closer to the edge before he pulls away. I pant, and he lets me ride his hand. The orgasm builds within me, threatening to pull me under, but he withdraws and shoves his fingers inside my mouth. “Lick them clean.”

  A frustrated cry escapes me, but I do as I’m told.

  “Taste yourself, Pet, and when you do, remember that you could have chosen to put your greedy little hands on me and this might have ended up a lot differently. Instead, you touched what’s mine, and now you’re going to pay for it.” He pinches my clit so hard I see stars. “Sweet dreams, little one.”

  Sir walks away and turns out the lamp, throwing the room into shadow. A lonely cry escapes my throat as he climbs into bed. He doesn’t cover himself with the sheet, and the moonlight streaming in through the crack in the curtains spills across that strong, powerful body.