by Vonna Harper
“I—don’t know.”
Ignoring her ragged tone, he unwound her. If she was aware of the small act of kindness, she gave no indication. “What did you call me?”
“Master. I—I’m sorry. Your name is Master.”
“And what are you?”
There it was, that flare of life. He’d probably never tell her how much he loved seeing the conflict.
“I’m a slave, Master.”
“What else are you?”
“Meat. Worthless.”
Despite the words, her eyes said she didn’t believe that. Determined to catch her off guard, he lightly rubbed his knuckles over her jawbone. Her body had to be throbbing with pain, but she was learning to ignore it so she could anticipate—not that she could do a thing to stop anything men did to her.
“Tonight you have a choice,” he said kindly. “You can either continue to be beaten or suck us off.”
Just like that, revulsion dominated her expression.
“No, no. Don’t even think it.” He again caressed her jawbone. “What happened the other day when you tried to prevent us from sticking our cocks in your mouth?”
“I—you put a ring gag in it, Master.”
“And what happened then?”
She was getting confused which was exactly what he’d intended. Being beaten she understood. It was the price she paid for having fallen under their control. In contrast, tenderness and a semi-normal conversation belonged to the world she’d been ripped from.
“You, ah, performed oral sex on me, Master.”
“How did it feel?”
“I couldn’t breathe, Master.”
Pondering whether he would have punished her if she’d forgotten to call him Master even one time, he nodded agreement.
“That’s because we jammed our cocks as far down your throat as they’d go. And they stayed there until you started to pass out.” He brushed hair out of her eyes. “Don’t forget, we can do that again anytime we want. And you’ll pay if you make it necessary.” To bring home his point, he slid the whip between her legs. As he’d expected, her sex juices had soaked the rope against her cunt. Poor body, it no longer understood the distinction between agony and delight.
“You hate sucking cock, don’t you?” He made the question sound as if he was inquiring about her favorite color.
“I never—“
“You’ve never given head?” Damek interrupted.
She shook her head.
“No wonder you suck at it.” Damek laughed at his joke. “Damn time you got good.”
“That’s right.” Withdrawing he whip from between her legs, he wrapped it around her neck. The message was simple. He could put it back to use whenever he chose. “Your technique needs work. If you’re a good little slave and pay attention, you’ll be rewarded.” He tugged on the crotch rope to make his point. “Otherwise there isn’t going to be any pleasure in this lesson.”
She didn’t say anything, but he would have been surprised if she had. The simple adage of speaking when you’re spoken to had been drummed into her.
“You don’t want any more of this, right?” He fingered the whip.
“No, Master.”
“And you understand what you have to do to prevent that from happening, right?”
“Suck your cock, Master.”
“Me too, slut,” Damek pointed out unnecessarily.
She nodded without moving her breasts. “Yes, Master.”
Studying her expression, Reno frowned. She was still in pain. Maybe more to the point, she had no doubt of their position of power. Just the same, she hadn’t completely given up believing in herself. Interesting.
He didn’t bother telling her what he had in mind as he freed her elbows. Groaning, she straightened but made no attempt to put distance between them. Too bad. He would have loved an excuse to grab the chain between her reddened breasts. Watching her out of the corner of his eye, he unfastened her wrists restraints, leaving the short chain to dangle from the right one as a reminder of how easy it would be to handcuff her again. She rolled her shoulders but wisely kept her arms by her sides.
The cotton between her legs remained glued to her drenched labia. Taking hold of it, he secured it to the strands around her waist. The taut rope was back in place.
Keeping the gesture casual, he took back control of the whip and trailed the ends on her breasts.
She looked at him and then down at her clamped nipples. “Master?”
“Not going to happen, slave. You need to prove you’ve earned their removal. What do you think, Damek? Should we draw straws to determine who she does first?”
Damek grunted. “Here’s a first. What if we let her have a say in the matter?” He yanked off his shorts, revealing that he wasn’t wearing briefs.
“Okay bitch. Your choice.”
Chapter Eighteen
A lifetime ago having two men give her their full attention might have been Shari’s dream come true. Tonight she wasn’t sure she’d survive.
Her breasts were on fire, but even with her hands free, she hadn’t dared touch her breasts. To her relief, Reno had taken off the weights but the clamps still pinched. The chain dangling between them served as a stark reminder of her captivity. When Reno had freed her from the elbows’ tie, she’d concentrated on making her shoulders and arms feel as if they belonged to her again. The moment her muscles stopped screaming, she’d became acutely aware of the whip-pain radiating through her. Reno hadn’t broken her flesh, but he’d marked it everywhere. Temporarily tattooed it with red slashes.
As for her pussy—no! She wouldn’t think about the unrelenting pressure against her labia and clit, the taut strands between her ass cheeks. She’d fight past the demeaning, demoralizing, and erotic sensations. Somehow.
“Head down, slut,” Damek ordered. “Don’t you know your place?”
She was already on her hands and knees slowly crawling toward a seated Damek, but she lowered her upper body even more. Undoubtedly they saw her as a dog.
A dog.
If—when—she had her life back, she’d go to the humane society and choose the mutt that most needed a home.
When, she reinforced as she reached Damek. She had to hold out hope. Otherwise, this nightmare would kill her.
“Why me?” Damek demanded, grabbing her hair and pressing her cheek against his bony knee. “You loathe me so why did you choose me first?”
“I don’t loathe you, Master,” she lied.
“The hell you don’t.”
His fingers still fisted in her hair served as the only warning she needed. One wrong word and she’d pay for it. “I don’t understand you, Master. Your moods—they frighten me.”
“So you decided to get me and my cock over with.”
He hadn’t asked a question which meant she didn’t owe him an answer, did she? Nerves jumping, she looked up.
“It’s easy to get on my good side. In fact, having you where you belong has already done that. Your body looks amazing marked the way it is. I love striped flesh on a slave nearly as much as I love these.” Taking hold of the chain, he lifted her breasts. She just managed to swallow a gasp. So wasn’t sure she could endure more agony in her nipples, yet she didn’t have a choice.
“You were a cock tease, weren’t you?” He drew her breasts toward him. “From the moment these knockers started growing, you had the boys eating out of your hand. They probably followed you around like lap dogs—like you’re now following us around.”
Despite the growing agony, she relaxed a little because Damek sounded calmer than he had earlier. She understood his teacher tone. His capacity for rage terrified her.
“Talk about life’s curves. One minute you’re cruising along in your boring and predictable routine. The next everything goes to hell. You get into a damn fender bender and realize you’ve let your auto insurance lapse.”
Was that what had led to his shorter-than-usual fuse today? The insurance issue was his fault, yet she was paying
the consequences.
“Well, enough chit chat, bitch.” Leaning back, he spread his legs, dropping the chain as he did. “You know what you need to do, slave.”
Slave or bitch. Which was she?
Both.
The instant she touched her dry, closed lips to Damek’s cock, she knew there was only one way she could get through this.
A black mutt. She’d read that black dogs were the least likely to get adopted so that’s what she’d get. She didn’t want a big one, too much to feed and handle. Medium size with a shaggy coat and floppy ears.
“Don’t start!” Damek punched her chest. Her breasts screamed.
Lesson learned, she moistened her lips and forced herself to kiss his tip. Damek was fanatical about personal hygiene. He tasted of soap and pre-cum. As long as she didn’t think about the sadist connected to this cock, she could do it.
This was her lover, the man who understood that painting fulfilled her. He gave her space when she needed it and was there when she wanted companionship. He’d been gone on business for several days and had returned as she was getting out of the shower. Laughing, she threw herself at him and wrapped her wet body around him. They kissed long and hard, bodies heating, need growing.
“I have a surprise for you,” she said as he carried her into the bedroom. “Something I know you’re going to like.”
Afraid Damek would realize she’d again taken refuge in fantasy, she opened her mouth and slowly, hopefully sensually drew him into her. His arms rested on the chair, giving her hope that they’d stay like that. Careful to keep her revulsion to herself, she hid behind a submissive expression. For now at least, he was willing to let her do the work. Knowing better than to touch him without having been given permission, she planted her hands on the floor. Familiar metal ringed her wrists and a chain dangled from the right one. Could she use it as a weapon? Did she dare?
No. Not tonight.
Swamped by the awful admission, she dove back into the one thing she had control over. This cock belonged to her lover, the man who wanted to make love to her on freshly-laundered sheets. Naked at her hands, he stood before her on widespread legs with his erection a gift reaching for her.
Claim him. Show him how much you worship him.
The beloved cock touched the back of her throat, and she held it there for a long time. Then, careful to keep her movements slow, she leaned back and let him slide out. After filling her mouth with saliva, she took him again. The man—whoever he was—shuddered, and his hands tightened on the armrests. Otherwise, he didn’t move.
Was that because he trusted her?
Of course, she answered as she moved her head up and down. Her lover, that mysterious trusting man, had placed his life in her hands. She rewarded him by lightly gliding her teeth and tongue over his length.
“Shit. Shit.”
No, not Damek! Please, not him.
“Good or bad?” Reno asked.
“Keep it going, slut.”
Despite the demeaning term, she concentrated on his tone. She could be wrong but was that a note of wonder in his voice?
Letting her eyes drift closed, she mentally left this hellish place and entered a rose-scented room where her kind and considerate lover waited. He’d returned from his travels with a dusty red rose bush he intended to plant in the front yard. At the moment it rested on the coffee table near where she knelt, the intoxicating scent drifting over them.
She loved him without reservation.
Over and over again she glided her saliva-moistened lips over his strong length. Sucking, she moved her head about, bringing his cock as she did.
Her lover moaned and groaned. His nails dug into the chair, and his legs trembled. Delighted with his response, she let him slide out and rubbed her cheek against his wet erection.
Impatient heat lapped at her pussy, prompting her to press her legs together. Excitement flowed through her, but it wasn’t enough. Taking the next step, she bracketed his protruding cock between her fingers. Using her thumbs, she stroked his sac, worshipped his satin flesh.
She wanted her lover’s cock in her. Needed to be impaled.
Again shaking off the frightening reality of what was really happening, she once more brought the cock into her mouth. Stopping when her nose touched male flesh, she took a shaky breath. Another heated wave pushed her on. Her abused body no longer mattered. What had been pain a few minutes was morphing into pleasure. The tall, strong, dark, nameless stranger who was her lover was nibbling on her nipples. Desperate to give as much as she was receiving, she frantically sucked at what filled her mouth.
“Yeah, shit, yeah.”
Rocking forward, Damek grabbed her hair. Dread lapped at her, but she knew not to try to break free. Keeping her head in place with his greater strength, he pummeled her. His breath rasped as did hers—when she could breathe. She gripped his knees to keep her balance while a small part of her demanded to know what was happening.
She had only one answer.
This man and she were no longer two separate human beings. Her mouth had married his cock. Furious male strength attacked her. Heat bred heat, igniting her flesh, bones, and muscles. Her heart raced, sending searing sensations to her trapped pussy. Beyond caring whether she’d be punished, she fought to rub the rope over her clit. The fire grew.
Suddenly, shocking herself, she screamed. Her body exploded, breaking into marvelous splinters, sparks flying, gaging on the invasion but too destroyed to try to try to do anything about it.
Damek shoved her away, and she fell onto her back. The crotch rope dug into her sex. Barely comprehending, she looked up. Male legs straddled her body. Sticky white shot from a cock to coat her breasts and belly.
“Say it!” he bellowed.
“Thank you, Master. Oh thank you.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Come here.”
Shari had sat up and tucked her legs under her as soon as she felt strong enough. Her head throbbed, making it difficult to comprehend what had happened. Her body’s violent explosion had been, in part, its effort to turn pain into something else, but there’d been more than momentary escape. A breaking down of what she’d always believed herself to be?
As she hauled herself on her hands and knees over to Reno, memories of her prolonged release returned. For a few delicious and precious seconds, she’d left this horrid existence and slipped into one filled with light and love. Tenderness.
“Straighten,” Reno commanded when her head was an inch from his knees. Hoping to keep her clamped nipples from jiggling any more, she slowly did as he commanded. The crotch rope tightened.
“Hands behind your head.”
Doing that would stretch her breasts but what choice did she have? Her whip-marked skin was more than enough proof of what he was capable of. Biting her lower lip to keep from crying out, she lifted her arms into place. He studied her breasts for what seemed like forever. If she ever got out of this hell, she’d never let another man see her naked.
“You’ll look good with rings through your nipples,” Reno observed. “Or maybe your master will prefer studs with nobs on each end. Of course he can switch them out if he’s into variety.”
Reno was a man of action so seeing him leaning back in his chair with his hands laced over his cock was disconcerting. Doubtless, he was deciding how to make use of her, perhaps contemplating beating her again.
“You interest me.” He leaned forward. “Most subjects either become catatonic for a while or fight every inch of the way until they’re taught the error of their ways. You, however, have found a way to maintain self-control at least some of the time. If you can’t escape pain, you master it as best you can by mentally checking out. If you’re able to refine your technique so you can call on it at will, you’ll never be broken.”
“There’s broken and there’s broken,” Damek pointed out.
“True.” Reno ran his fingers from her chin to where the chain rested between her breasts. “But a ruined piece o
f flesh is of no use to anyone.”
“Is there a point to this?”
“That her unique mentality is something her master’s going to have to address.”
“He could leave her with us longer. We’ll get the job done.”
Longer? My God, no.
“That’s possible.” Hooking his forefinger over the chain, Reno lifted it. The way he stared at her, she knew better than to let her pain show—somehow.
“I’ll pose that to him. Having never had a slave puts him at a disadvantage. Maybe he should have selected one who’s been in the system a while.”
That was her life? Years and years of slavery, being sold to one master after another? She’d contemplated that before of course but on the heels of what might be the most satisfying climax she’d ever had, that future was almost more than she could comprehend.
“You know,” Damek said, “this is something I’d like to discuss with management. We’re not building automobiles, we’re molding psyches. Progress benchmarks weren’t, I believe, set with enough forethought. They didn’t take a slave’s individuality into consideration.”
Reno’s finger still bore the chain’s weight. She didn’t know how long the relief would last but was grateful for every moment. If only her arms didn’t ache so. Hell, if only she could lower them and strangle both men!
Shocked by the thought, she nevertheless clung to it. Always before their greater size, number, and equipment had intimidated her too much for violent impulses, but if she could dream of having sex with a fantasy lover, she could dream of revenge.
Yes, dream.
Reno was unconscious, the victim of the same treated dart that had immobilized her. Instead of hogtying him so he couldn’t hurt her when he woke up, she’d kill him. With her own two hands. Watching life drain from him.
“That’s amazing,” Reno said.
“What is?”
“She just checked out again. Vacated the premises.”