Plaything: Volume Two

by Jade West

  “Go on…” she said, her voice flat and somehow drained of life.

  “What you’ve been looking for since that night in the art gallery was a man who would take you because he desired you – not because he wanted to dominate you. I think you’re looking for a man like that so you can do the one thing you really regret. The one thing you did not allow yourself to do that fateful night. I think you regret not allowing yourself to respond. I am going to teach you how to mold that regret into a tool – a weapon you can wield that will set you free from this madness and give you not just a chance to survive, but ultimately a real chance for freedom.”

  For a long time, Amy didn’t move, then she sighed, her shoulders slumped, and she came towards me taking careful tentative steps as though walking delicately through the minefield of her emotions.

  “Assuming you are correct,” her voice was guarded. “How does this help me in any way? It doesn’t change my circumstances. It doesn’t change what’s about to happen to me.”

  “No,” I said. “But it does clarify how we can transform you from a plaything to a player.” There was a rising note of confidence in my voice and she heard it.

  “How?”

  I took her back to the bed and we sat down, side by side. “The man who has bought you wants a slave – a woman who will be obedient, a woman who will bend to his will and his whim,” I explained. “That’s what this is about, Amy. For men, this is a power play. The thrill is not the sex – the thrill is having the power over a woman to make her pliant to his every desire. Power,” I said again importantly. “It’s the name of the game.”

  “And you think it doesn’t have to be that way for me?”

  I nodded. “That’s exactly what I think. I believe I can coach you to become the exact opposite of what this man wants. I think you can ‘unman’ him.”

  She shook her head. “No,” she said, suddenly slumping again. “He would just send me back to Alistair again, broken to be fixed.”

  I smiled, and it shocked her. She looked at me like I was unhinged. “I’m not going to make you broken,” I waggled a finger under her nose and held the smile. “I am going to make you so perfect… so responsive… that you will be exactly what he asked for, but nothing like what he really wants.”

  She leaned away from me as though to see me more clearly – looking for signs of some cruel prank in my expression. She didn’t understand. I took her hand and squeezed it.

  “When a man orders you to bend over and spread your legs, he does so because he expects you to obey,” I said. “That’s what will happen when you are returned to your owner. Ordering you to obey him is the point of his power. You must comply, but it is his will you are bending to. His authority and the threat of punishment makes you obedient. Right?”

  She nodded slowly, still not understanding.

  “I will coach you and train you to respond so eagerly, so enthusiastically that you will be the perfect submissive… but you will be so willing and so eager to follow his every instruction the power will be taken from him. You will actually be playing him.”

  She shook her head, confused. “You want me to obey…”

  “Willingly,” I cut across her. “With unbridled enthusiasm. It will take away what he wants – the power and control to force you to his will. Suddenly the aphrodisiac of wielding power will be taken from him. You will be more like an eager partner than a slave – and that’s not what he paid for, and certainly not what he wants.”

  “How?”

  “You fake it till you make it,” I said honestly. “When he tells you to bend over and spread your legs, you comply immediately, smiling with excitement. When he thrusts into you, you will moan and encourage him to use you, to fill you more deeply. At first he will try to hurt you. He will try to enforce his authority by creating more depraved and more desperate situations that you must endure, trying to find the point where his pleasure becomes your pain. At each and every test you must be enthusiastic and eager. You will act like his command – no matter how sexually depraved – is your absolute fantasy come true. He will tire of you quickly… but how can he complain to Alistair? How can he send you back and protest that you are broken when, in fact, you are a wildly eager participant in every sexual challenge he sets you?”

  Slowly Amy seemed to come back to life – the understanding dawning in her eyes and then flowing into her body so that she sat straight-backed, infused with a renewed spark of energy. She studied my face frankly and then the touch of a wicked smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

  “Teach me!” she said.

  * * *

  Chapter Four

  Amy

  “Teach me,” I said.

  I could feel the adrenaline pumping, zipping up my spine. Maybe, in another place and time outside of here, Robert’s idea would have seemed ridiculous; our plan nothing but straw-clutching, desperation-fuelled fantasy. But not here. Here it made perfect sense. Robert’s words reached far below the cold steel of rational thought. They reached in deep and grabbed hold of my very soul. I could do this, with his help. We could do this.

  “Now,” I said. “Show me. Please! I’m ready for this, I’ll do whatever you say, whatever it takes.”

  How naturally the words tumbled from my lips. I closed the distance between us, as though we were two sailors overboard, clutching at each other in joy as the faintest shadow of land appeared on the horizon. I could have kissed him, not through any attempt at obedience, but simply in gratitude for the sense of life he was restoring in me. Robert’s eyes stared into mine, calm and confident, as always, but this time there was something more. Maybe I was seeing what I wanted to see, but his eyes mirrored my renewed hope, that same flicker of optimism.

  “On your knees,” he said, and I dropped to the floor without hesitation. He paced around me in slow circles, and my skin felt alive to his presence, as though a static current was running through the fine hair on my arms. I jumped as his hands fell heavy and hot on my shoulders. “This position will be one of your greatest assets,” he said. “Your classic submissive stance. Keep your back straight, and your head angled down, eyes towards the floor. Palms on your thighs. Spread your knees, just a little. Enough to be inviting, without overplaying it. Shoulders tipped back, breasts proud.” Strong fingers kneaded at the tension in my neck for just a moment. “And relax, Amy, breathe. Breathe steady, breathe calm.”

  I thought back to the breathing techniques I’d learned as a youngster. A phase of night terrors had gripped my early teens, and I’d often woken breathless, heart racing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In for seven, out for eleven. I focused on nothing but the air in my lungs, the rhythmic whisper of my own life-force as it slowed and calmed and connected me with that one beautiful moment of now. And right there, on the bedroom floor, holed up in a guest house amidst Hell itself, I let it all go, until there was nothing left but me. Breathing. Existing. Being.

  My senses heightened, Robert’s slow steps thudded loud in the room. I kept my gaze lowered, as instructed, and the grain of the oak floor sharpened, its gnarly imperfections becoming vivid and warm. Robert stopped in front of me, and the woodgrain was replaced by the finely tanned leather of his shoes. I admired the brogue pattern, the tailored cut of his suit legs, so engrossed in the moment that the heat of his fingers under my chin made me gasp. He tilted my head upwards, but I kept my eyes down.

  “Good girl,” he said. “Look at me.”

  I took my time to meet his gaze, taking in every inch of him. Watching him, reading him, inhaling long, slow breaths filled with the perfect scent of him. Our eyes locked. A flutter in my stomach. And then heat. Heat right through me. I kept breathing. In for seven, out for eleven.

  He swallowed.

  The corner of his mouth twitched.

  “That’s good,” he said. “Really good.”

  And it felt good. It felt good to be good for him.

  His thumb brushed my lips. “You must always be ready, Amy, ready fo
r anything. Any command, any request, any touch.” He said the last part pointedly, moving forwards to press his crotch to my face. I could feel him, hard, through the fabric, the steel of his belt buckle cold against my forehead. He wrapped my hair around his fist, held me tight. “You will stay calm, and ready. You will keep breathing. You will show them how much you want it. All of it. Whatever it may be.”

  I would have nodded if I had leverage, instead I grunted in the affirmative. My palms stayed on my thighs, my body relaxed. I took a deep breath when he finally stepped away, but my eyes didn’t falter as they found his. I was ready. Ready to open wide and give him the obedience of my throat. Ready to please him, to tease him, to suck him fucking dry.

  I could do this. I could do any of this.

  The gift Robert had given me went beyond hope. In a perverse, twisted, warped view of rationality, he’d given me my power back. The power to accept. The power to play. The power to choose.

  And I chose to want this.

  A smile crept across my lips. “Please,” I said. “More.”

  “Please, what?”

  “Please, sir,” I corrected.

  “That’s better,” he said. “But the answer is no. I have other plans.” He moved away, and I adjusted my posture, dropping my eyes to his feet and presenting myself in just the way he wanted. “I want you to think about your fantasies. I want you to imagine yourself with that faceless man, the man who takes you however he wants. The man who commands you, who shows no mercy. I want you to imagine his hands all over you, his fingers inside you, his warm breath on your neck.”

  “Yes, sir.” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “You’re going to touch yourself, Amy, and I’m going to watch.”

  A flush of self-consciousness, and my heart sped up. I kept my breathing steady, my posture at ease. “Yes, sir.”

  “I want you to touch yourself the way you imagine him touching you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Don’t hold anything back from me, Amy. I want to see you. I want to see everything.”

  I nodded. “I understand, sir.”

  “Begin. You may close your eyes at first, if it helps.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The fantasies came so easily, despite everything, just like they always had. I pictured the darkness, caught the deep, earthy scent of my imaginary lover. His hands would be heavy, his skin rough, maybe even calloused. My hands moved from my thighs, tracing patterns across my skin as they made their way up to my breasts. My imaginary lover wouldn’t be gentle, and I wasn’t either. He’d raise my tits high, gripping them hard. My nipples had already tightened. They felt like bullets against my palms. I closed my eyes and tipped my head back, disappearing further inside my fantasy, and I squeezed hard, as he would, enjoying the way my flesh yielded to my fingers. I pinched, and pulled, and twisted, keeping up the pressure until sparks of pleasure shot through my skin, then eased up, teasing with just my fingertips until the sensation subsided. My knees shuffled further apart, and I arched my back, presenting more of myself for my imaginary lover, and more of myself for the real lover in the room. My eyes fluttered open, and Robert was watching, his expression unreadable.

  His attention thrilled me.

  When I pinched my nipples for the second time I hit the sweet spot between pleasure and pain. A soft moan escaped my lips, and I sat heavily on my heels, beautifully aware of my exposure, and beautifully aware of him.

  I wanted him to see this.

  I slid my hands down between my legs, teasing softly before spreading my pussy lips wide. My clit sparked and pulsed, desperate for contact, but I held back, rocking back and forth in slow torture. I dipped my fingers in my mouth, making them perfectly wet before they landed on target. I looked up at him through dreamy eyes, keeping my pussy spread wide as I circled my hard little clit. My breathing turned ragged, fingers speeding up as exhilaration took over.

  It was no longer the faceless man touching me in my imagination, it was Robert. It was him I wanted to spread myself for, him whose fingers I wanted deep inside me.

  He seemed to read my mind. “Show me,” he said. “Show me what you want.”

  “Yes, sir,” I breathed. “I like it like this.”

  Two fingers pushed in easily. I moved them fast and hard, before opening myself up wider with a third.

  “Like this…” I said. “Oh fuck, sir, like this…”

  I could hear the soft, wet noises of my own excitement, and it made it feel all the more horny knowing he could hear it too. I rocked my hips, meeting my fingers at just the right angle for deeper penetration. The pressure inside hit the spot, and I moved my thumb to pin my clit at the same time. The sensations built quickly, and I lolled my head back, breathing frantic as I approached climax.

  “Fuck,” I hissed. “I’m going to come. Oh fuck, sir, I’m going to fucking come.”

  “No,” he said. “You’re not.” I barely had time to register his words before he spoke again. “Stop,” he said. “Now.”

  I stilled my hand, but my fingers were still inside me. My pussy clenched and fluttered, desperate for more. “Stop?”

  “Remember your place. You will not orgasm without permission.”

  My heart was racing, mouth clammy. “Please, sir, please may I come?”

  “No,” he said, simply. “I want you back in position.”

  My instincts rose up, backchat on the tip of my tongue, but I stayed quiet. I shifted myself back into position, palms on my thighs, shoulders back and eyes on the floor. Silent seconds ticked slowly by as my breathing calmed.

  “Good,” he said. “Again.”

  “Again?” I asked. “Sorry, again, sir?”

  “Yes. From the beginning, slowly.”

  My stomach lurched at the challenge. All of my nerves were on fire, demanding release, and yet I did as he wanted, moving slowly, teasing at my nipples with nothing but my fingertips. The pleasure shot straight between my legs, and my muscles clenched with desire. This was torture of a very different kind than I was used to.

  When my hands moved between my legs, three fingers pushed their way straight inside. It felt so good that I cried out, hurtling towards orgasm before I could get a handle on myself.

  “Please, sir,” I hissed. “Please may I come?”

  “No,” he said.

  I mewled and protested like a toddler before heeding his words, but his eyes were stern, unmoving.

  He made me stop, over and over until I was a heartbeat from delirium. My brow was clammy, and my clit was swollen and tender with need. My hands were wet with my juices, and the sounds they made were loud and dirty. I was well beyond caring how exposed I was; there was only lust and the blissful pain of denial.

  I stopped asking him for permission, knowing full well it would only arrive of its own accord, at his pleasure. It took all of my resolve to stop when commanded, gritting my teeth until I was back from the edge and back in position for him.

  I’d lost track of how many times he’d watched me approach the brink. I was there again, teetering on the edge, when the words finally came.

  “Now,” he commanded. “You will come for me. Now, Amy, right now.”

  Oh the bliss. I felt the smile bloom across my lips, muscles tense as I exploded in climax. It racked my whole body, lifting me from my heels as I rode the wave.

  “Yes…” I cried. “Thank you, sir, thank you…”

  I screwed my eyes shut, lost to everything but the euphoria. My ears were ringing, and I was nothing but a writhing, moaning body on my knees at his feet, coming for him, only for him.

  It took me a long time to come down, and when I did, my limbs were jittery and limp. I caught my breath in long gulps, about ready to collapse in a post-orgasmic heap when Robert took me by surprise. He dropped to his knees before me, then pushed me back until my shoulders pressed into the bedframe at my rear.

  My eyes flew wide with questions, but he gave me no opportunity to ask them. His fingers pres
sed hard between my legs, grinding against my over-sensitized clit without mercy. I closed my thighs instinctively, trapping his hand.

  “Spread your legs.” His voice was a low growl just inches from my ear. “No questions, no hesitation, Amy. My pleasure is your pleasure. You will give yourself to me.”

  I wavered for only a moment before parting my thighs enough to give him freedom of movement. My choice to obey. “Yes, sir,” I breathed. “However you want me, sir.”

  “Good girl.” His lips pressed against my temple, and the simple gesture meant so much. “Remember our plan, Amy. Remember what you have to do.”

  My objective crystallised behind my eyes, and determination flamed. I opened my legs wide, and turned my face to his. “More, sir, please.”

  I gasped as he pushed three fingers in. They were so much bigger than mine, stretching my tender pussy tight.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Harder, please, sir. I really fucking want you, sir.”

  His thumb circled my clit as he ploughed me deep. The sensations were exquisite, the edges of pain blurring into bliss. I could feel the pressure building inside once again, my frazzled nerve endings springing back to life.

  “Yes,” I hissed. “Fuck, yes. More, sir, please.”

  Robert shifted to gain greater leverage, and his free hand gripped my throat, applying pressure without cutting off my breath. I liked the way it felt, dominance without humiliation or pain. I liked the way he made me feel.

  “Come for me,” he said.

  I closed my eyes, rolling on the crazy sensations. My body responded much more quickly than I anticipated, driving me onwards to the clifftop of no return. His voice compelled me, his calm strength cutting through the chatter in my mind.

  I cried out as I came. One long, ragged moan of release that seemed to please him. He kissed my forehead again, and I felt the smile on his lips.

  “That’s good, Amy,” he said. “Perfect, in fact.”

  Perfect. It felt so nice to be perfect.