Tria’s life settled into somewhat of a routine after her first eventful day with him. She was even getting used to sleeping bound, although it did take some time. She was certainly enjoying sleeping in a bed with fresh sheets and a fluffy comforter rather than a flimsy cot. Sir would usually get up very early, which mean that she got up very early, because he took her every morning, without fail. In fact, she thought that he probably indulged himself pretty much anytime he thought of it and she was within reach, but sometimes she only awoke as he was sliding something inside her – usually a plug, which he favored. He’d graduated her to a slightly larger one, and sometimes made her wear it all day. He did his best to keep his vow about making sure she was full to the brim every time he took her.
She couldn’t avoid his possession even if she’d wanted to, although she wasn’t at all sure she didn’t want him to. The way her body acquiesced to his demands almost worried her. But then, he seemed very happy about the fact that her body welcomed him with its unusual explosions.
Sometimes, he didn’t bother to flip her over, even, just slipping into her from behind after making sure that her bottom hole was filled almost to overflowing. He even made her wear a plug to bed at night occasionally, which saved him reaching for one early the next morning. Then he would reach around to grab her breasts and massage them painfully, twisting and pulling and tugging hard at her tips as he drove into her, using her breasts to keep her tight up against him, and pressing himself against her anal invader with each stroke.
And it didn’t seem to matter what he did, or how hard he slammed into her, or how much he hurt her – her body loved it. It even loved the punishments that were so frequent and swift that the natural color of her bottom was getting to be rouge red. Although it had made her flush with mortification until she almost fainted the first time he made her bend over the table during dinner to receive fifty hard strokes of his belt for not eating all of her dinner, while Lima and Rook went on with their own meals as if a young woman wasn’t crying and wailing into their food.
Lima had tried to be sympathetic, but only once. “Oh, you poor dear,” she’d whispered.
But the Sir had ears like a cat, and he’d stopped immediately, looking at the older woman and asking, “If I ever hear you saying something like that again, woman, you’ll get twice what I give her.”
“Yes, Sir,” she’d answered, and immediately gone back to her soup.
When he’d finished blistering her bum, he’d made her sit down on it and finish another entire plate full of food.
One afternoon, he’d come home early from whatever it was that he did all day, and had brought her into his room. He didn’t approve of closed doors, so he left it wide open, so that all could see how he’d bound her this time: upside down by a spreader bar that kept her ankles far apart, but her cunny at just the right level for his mouth to ravage. He wouldn’t even have to bend in the least. She was laid out for him like a puffy, wet banquet, and he indulged himself completely once he’d decorated her breasts in a method designed to be exquisitely painful. Thomas liked the idea of making her fight her way through the pain in those tender titties of hers to get to paradise he was creating between her legs.
That made for a long, pleasurable afternoon for the both of them as he kept tipping the scales one way or the other. He’d found alligator clips in his bag of tricks, and at first deemed them to be too harsh, so he wrapped a few layers of velvet over her nipples, then clamped them onto those hardened peaks, gradually adding weights that dangled almost down to her ears, tugging them himself or forcibly moving her to make them that much more hurtful.
Eventually he ran out of weights and began to remove strips of velvet until those biting metal teeth were bare against her flesh. She wailed in protest, but he solemnly did what he wanted to do, paying her no never mind whatsoever as he calmly replaced each and every weight then applied the same tender loving care to the other nipple as she writhed spasmodically, which only added to her suffering all on her own. If she’d been able to stay still, the weights wouldn’t have swung so much and caused her so much discomfort.
But he didn’t tell her that. Instead, Thomas straightened and put himself at Heaven’s gateway, reaching down to a small table he’d set up next to him with some small extras he wanted to keep handy. The first thing he did was don a surgical glove with a loud snap as it settled around his wrist. Then he dipped his index and middle fingers into a jar of lubricating jelly he’d been saving for just such a time when he felt he wanted to indulge himself a little.
Just as his mouth was settling eagerly over her mound, in the unusual upside down position of having her clit at the bottom of his mouth rather than the top, his left hand pried her ass cheeks rudely apart, and, without warning, he stuffed his index finger, which was probably a little bigger than anything else she’d taken up there to this point, all the way up inside her, to his last knuckle.
He felt her jump, and heard her cry out once, then twice – once for the rude way he was raping her bottom hole, and then again because jumping made the weights on her nipples swing and tug abominably.
And yet . . . and yet . . . she wanted it. The only thing that would have made it more complete was if he’d striped her bottom viciously before he’d started this, and it was as if he’d read her mind. He brought her close – he’d gotten agonizingly good at that in a relatively short amount of time. He could get her seconds away from that violently blissful conclusion, and back her off, usually by introducing some element of pain or discomfort somewhere else on her body that forcibly redirected the attentions of her body and mind.
The only time that didn’t work was if he decided to move around behind her, and concentrate on her bottom hole. To Tria’s complete mortification, he’d discovered that she was very anally oriented, which intrigued him to no end.
There was nothing he’d done to her so far that she hadn’t come to crave. He’d often smiled at how naïve she was about what he did to her, and what he could do to her, and she spent most of her time with him blushing madly at everything he did. But her body rapidly came to crave it.
Even the punishments. It was a never ending source of embarrassment to her that when he took an implement to her bottom – or worse used his hand which generally put her in an even more intimate position over his lap – and reduced her to a howling, blubbering mass of agonized flesh from the top of her bottom down the backs of her thighs, he would reach between her legs every single time and come up with glistening fingers that he presented to her as proof of her body’s betrayal, sometimes requiring her to lick her own juices off those huge thick fingers.
He’d never not found her dripping wet, regardless of the severity of the punishment. It got to the point where all he had to do was look at her through narrowed eyes from across the room and she would feel herself gush between her legs, and somehow, he knew it and would smile evilly, then excuse them from Lima and Rook’s company to guide her down the hall by a breast, or a butt cheek.
And he adored finding innovative ways to truss her up – like this one. Thomas stepped back a second, just to admire his handiwork. Her legs were splayed, her pussy clean as a whistle, of course, and prominent for its swollen heat and rampant moisture.
Her arms were spread to mirror her legs, bound hooks he’d installed into the floor that could be installed and removed without marring the wood. He’d put a gag into her mouth, just for the fun of it, giving Lima and Rook muffled shrieks to strain for rather than the usual out and out yowling that came from this room when he brought her to it.
Although he didn’t much hesitate to punish her regardless of where they were – she’d been spanked in every room of the house in a very short amount of time. Another part of her frequent punishments, she thought, was his easy access to her naked body. He’d never allowed her to be dressed in front of him or anyone else. He hadn’t allowed her out of the house since he’d brought her there, and the temperature in the house was set so that she was comfortable nude. If he so mu
ch as saw one goose bump on her skin, he added more wood to the fire. Poor Lima and Rook were almost roasted out of house and home.
Despite the fact that Lima had quickly witnessed countless instances of him quite literally blistering her bottom, she had never again offered Tria the slightest bit of sympathy. At least not while Sir was in the house. And even when he wasn’t, any advice or empathizing she did was very guarded, as if she didn’t quite trust Tria not to betray her. Tria had never seen Lima get punished, but that didn’t mean she didn’t. She was very obedient to Sir, and Tria often wondered just exactly what their relationship was.
But here and now, the only thing she was worried about was the fact that he had circled around behind her. That was never a good thing. When he went back there, she ended up with welts across her bottom. And, when he reached for the rope to the pulley that could raise or lower her, she knew that something bad was coming.
She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, but then, she didn’t have to. All she had to do was be there, accessible to him, and she had no say in that matter. She was always available to him, and he could do with her as he pleased.
And sometimes, even when she’d just subjected her to a hard discipline session the night before – perhaps on a whim or maybe because she’d actually done something wrong – he’d do it again the next day, showing absolutely no mercy.
It had been two days since she’d been punished, and the only reason for that was because he’d been away. Although she knew that Rook was in charge while he was gone – her mind still could not wrap itself around the idea that Lima might also be in charge. She outranked Tria, but the younger woman simply could not believe that Lima might share in Rook’s authority. Women did not have authority of any sort. Ranking within a household, yes, but not the ability to punish or create rules. That was a male’s jurisdiction.
Neither of them had ever made a move towards her when the Sir was not in the house. Not that they would have needed to, really. She was an obedient female. That was the only thing she’d ever known. She could never conceive of actively resisting – the only instances when she had were more automatic reactions than anything else – not that he was interested in tolerating those, either. But she would follow whatever male authority figure was around, and that was Rook.
Despite the fact that Sir had made that cryptic comment about Rook not really being a man.
So the flesh of her backside was in a state that had become unusual for her – it wasn’t bruised or ridged or even particularly red. It was, as he noticed when he stared at it from his position directly behind her, a blank slate.
Thomas reached out and touched her then with just the very tips of his fingers. Sometimes he still couldn’t really believe she was his. His, and his alone. No other man in this world would ever know her the way he did, would ever do the things he’d done and would do to her in the future. No one else would ever sink into her as he did, while she lay beneath him, yielding her body to him, accepting his infringement on her very person, his invasion of her body . . . and usually surprising him when, no matter how hard he was on her either with an implement or his intruding cock, tiny whimpers escaped her lips that usually converted to long, low moans of complete delight at what he was doing, regardless of how strict or depraved he was being with her.
He thought a moment, long and hard, looking at that blank canvas, the subtly filled out lines of her body. Good food and regular male attention was doing her a world of good. She had lost that near starvation look he detested and had filled out quite nicely – her breasts were at least a cup size larger than they had been when she’d arrived – not that sizes mattered much any more. Women nowadays never saw a bra, much less wore one. And she certainly was never going to know what one was if he had anything to do say about it.
And he had everything to say about every single aspect of her existence.
As he looked at those enticing hillocks, he decided that it was time to introduce her to the wonders of what had been a British school cane he’d collected even in the Before Time. He was sure he could find more in his travels, but he still had the original three he’d had from when he’d first realized that he enjoyed tanning female rear ends, which was early on in his life.
He was going to use the biggest of the three of them – the senior school cane – since she was a grown female, although he knew it was going to make her scream bloody murder with every stroke. There wasn’t a person in the world – much less this house – that would ever come to her rescue. She was at his mercy, and he didn’t have any.
Thomas knew that if she became pregnant – for which he tested her once a week – he would have to scale back his disciplinary tendencies considerably, and he was quite determined to indulge himself as much as he possibly could before then, despite the fact that it might take literally decades for her to get caught.
But for now, he indulged any interest that struck his fancy in regards to Tria. Everything he did only served to inflame his interest in her, whether she was writhing in pain or pleasure.
He’d left the blindfold off this time. She could never tell whether he was going to force her to witness her own degradation, or whether he was going to make her just that much more vulnerable to him and remove her ability to see what was coming. Tria couldn’t decide which was worse. They were both nearly intolerable. She could see him go to the small room where he’d first punished her when he got her home, coming out with what looked like a long cream colored stick in his hand, flexing his wrist and swishing it around in the air, and she knew what sound fear made.
Tria knew he was going to use that vicious looking thing on her, and she wondered how she would survive it. Worse than that, she knew she would survive it.
He reached into his pocket and put some smelling salts packets on the dresser nearby, and she knew it was going to be even worse than she imagined, and that he wouldn’t let her miss a second of it.
Thomas spent the afternoon torturing her, keeping her balanced precariously on that fine line between pleasure and pain. Six strokes comprised the first set of kisses he laid against her newly rounder flesh, creating six angry red ridges, five horizontal and the sixth laid heavily, diagonally, across the others.
He was nothing if not a traditionalist.
Tria had lost every ounce of her breath when he created that first slice into her bottom, and the next five merely contributed to her breathlessness. She couldn’t even scream; he lit into her too quickly, with no resting in between.
Just as quick as he started, though, he stopped and put the cane aside, coming around too the front of her and standing with his legs braced well apart so that he wouldn’t obstruct her nearly three hundred and sixty degree view of what he was doing to her, and assaulting her as he had started to before, pressing his fingers past her behind’s natural resistance to fill her up there, where it was least natural to do so but which he favored enormously. Then he reached out with his tongue alone, so that he was touching her in no other ways but to have those ramrod fingers prying her open while his tongue insistently sought out her most sensitive source of pleasure, flicking and stabbing and laving her until he ground a moan from her that was born of the ecstasy of his mouth rather than the ravages of her rump.
And when he’d brought her well along that path again, when she’d begun to groan consistently and deeply, becoming almost a growl in the back of her mouth, he reached around her to those still throbbing hillocks and grabbed them, rubbing his callused hand deliberately over those raised ridges he’d created himself, pinching and slapping them, forcing her even further into his mouth, making her endure the agony and the ecstasy at the same time, setting them warring within her as he loved to do.
When he could hear that what he was doing with his mouth was outstripping what he was doing with his hands, he left her and washed his hands carefully and quickly before standing behind her again and taking up the cane once more.
That went on for some time, until her whole backside was d
ecorated with those throbbing railroad tracks up and down her rump and legs, and he put the cane aside for the last time and pressed a third finger into her bottom just to hear her reaction, then began pumping his coned fingers in and out of her vigorously as he took his place in front of her and suckled her back into his mouth like he meant it this time.
Tria was near to fainting, which seemed to be a condition he could inspire in her at will. But she knew that this time when his greedy lips captured her aching gem that it would finally end, and it did, with her hoarse screams of ultimate pleasure as he dragged his broad tongue up and down her slit and pumped his fingers in and out of her body, taking her hard, the way he knew she’d like it best.
But when her cries died down, something else happened that had never happened before. She dissolved into tears of incredible anguish, and he was nowhere near her by that point, having milked four hard orgasms from her spent body. He was busy lowering her down to the floor, where he very quickly released her arms and legs.
“What is it? Did I hurt you?” Thomas realized the absurdity of the question as soon as it was out of his mouth – of course he’d hurt her. He trusted her to know exactly what he’d meant.
She seemed beyond answering him, though. As soon as he’d freed her, she’d turned onto her side and curled into a sobbing ball. For a moment, he just stood there and stared down at her, not liking the unfamiliar feeling of not knowing what to do next. He hated feeling out of his element in any way, shape, or form, and the fact that she was the one causing it was even less acceptable, as far as he was concerned.
Somehow, he decided he was over thinking the situation, and decided to follow his instincts. Thomas reached down and picked her up in his arms, crossing to the bed and laying her down on her side, facing his side of the bed, then climbing in front of her to pull her into his arms and just rock her until the storm subsided.
Besides the times when he’d instigated it with a pain she couldn’t deal with in any other way, she hadn’t cried at all, and it had surprised him. In his experience, pre and post plague, most women were a mass of almost unrestrained emotion. He almost smiled at how chauvinistic that sounded, but nowadays chauvinism wasn’t just a state of mind; it was a state sanctioned religion.
Tria Page 7