by Vonna Harper
No! My body, not my heart.
“God damn shit! Look, I can’t talk. I’ll call you tomorrow. What? No. Tomorrow.”
He bucked against her, forcing his cock head against the back of her throat. Tears leaked from behind her closed eyes, and she had all she could do not to gag. Then painful lessons learned kicked in, and she mentally turned him into what she needed him to be.
This was her lover, someone she trusted and wanted to pleasure and please.
Withdrawing a little, she took care to leave the imprint of her lips and tongue on his swollen bulk. That done, she advanced again. She’d changed the alignment a little so his head slipped into her throat, sealing off her ability to breathe. His hold on her hair tightened, and he must have hooked a finger through her collar’s ring because metal pressed against the back of her neck.
Fear shook her, but damn it, she knew better than to uselessly struggle. Even as her throat burned and her mouth ached, she threw up a barrier between what was happening and how her mind interpreted it.
Her lover. Giver of gifts, laughter, and moonlit walks.
There, a small inner voice whispered. They’d walked arm in arm around a lake that was surrounded by ferns and grasses. Barefoot with a breeze in their hair and on their skin, they were heading back to the house they’d decorated together so they could make love all night.
Warmth spread over her, relaxing and stimulating her. Her heels pressed into her buttocks, sending sensation to her pussy. Even as she struggled to breathe, the fantasy remained. Her lover would ask about her dreams and tap into her body’s needs. She’d do the same.
“What was that?” her master demanded, jerking on her collar. “Don’t you the hell know better than to try to spit me out?”
Between his grip on her hair and the collar, she could barely move. The need to fill her lungs grew. Frightened, she tightened her hold on his balls.
“Crap no!”
He forcefully shoved her away. Her back slammed into the desk. At least she could breathe. Reaching into her cramped space, he snagged her cuffed hands and hauled her out on her belly. Kicking back the chair, he loomed over her with his cock protruding. He didn’t give her time to gather her legs under her but lifted her arms over her head. The upper part of her body was off the floor, her breasts hanging.
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“I bet you are.” He repeatedly backhanded her cheeks. “What the hell do you think you were doing squeezing my balls?”
“I didn’t mean—I would never—“
“Wouldn’t you?”
The question hung between them making her wonder if he could see into her most secret thoughts. “I couldn’t breathe, Master. That’s all I remember, trying to breathe.”
Her arms felt as if they were being pulled from their sockets and the burning in her bowed back burned. Her legs, splayed out behind her, were useless.
“You need to learn self-control, a hell of a lot more than Carnal drummed into you. Starting tonight.”
The way he glared down at her, she knew she had to present herself as submissively as possible. Fighting the hot discomfort raging through her, she stared up at him.
“Yes, Master,” she whispered. “I will learn self-control, try to please you.”
“What are you saying, that it’ll become your life’s work?”
Even though she listened intently to every word, she couldn’t tap into his mood. He seemed less angry than moments ago but maybe she was reading what she needed to into his tone. Letting go of her wrists, he stepped back and pulled his pants into place. “Get up.”
She’d fallen forward onto her breasts, making obeying difficult, but she’d never ask for help. Standing, she placed her hands over her mons. Maybe he didn’t want her to cover what her handlers had called the goods, but she’d take what small privacy she could.
“We’re going back to my rig, damn it. There’s something you’re going to carry into the house.”
He let her lead the way, not that she was in charge. Knowing he was watching her ass, she wondered when, not if he’d beat it. Turning the door handle with limited use of her hands was awkward. At least he didn’t ridicule or punish her effort. Maybe, hopefully, he was no longer angry.
What difference did it make? Hadn’t Damek and Reno repeatedly warned her that her master might beat her even more than they had? Feeling condemned, she walked over to the vehicle she’d been brought here in. Opening the driver’s door, he activated a button that popped the trunk. “Get the bag in there,” he commanded.
Despite the order, she took a moment to stare at the back seat. There they were—three of her framed paintings!
“That’s not what this is about,” he snapped. “What the hell did I tell you?”
Barely comprehending what she’d just seen, she forced her legs to start moving again. An oversized gym bag rested in the trunk. Leaning in, she pulled it to her. What was he doing with the paintings she’d been about to take to the art shop where she sold much of her work?
Sick at heart over the thought of how much she’d lost, she picked up the burden and trudged back to the house. She didn’t dare take a moment to look at the proof of her former life.
Once inside, she stopped and waited for his next command. A nauseating possibility struck her. What if he commanded her to destroy her work?
“My exercise room.” He shoved her in that direction. The bag wasn’t that heavy. If not for her dread of what it contained, she’d be able to concentrate fully on her paintings. The top one was among her favorites. She saw it as proof of how far she’d come since she’d started working with oils. At first glance it was simply a forest with a wealth of rain-fed vegetation. What made it special was the large dark buck staring out from the green surrounding him. She’d spent a day in an area known for its large deer herd. Her intention had been to photograph fawns in preparation for creating a series of notecards. Then she’d spotted the regal buck standing alone. Putting fawn thoughts aside for later, she’d started work on what was now in her master’s possession.
He had no right! She’d created that painting and it belonged to her.
Master turned on the light in the exercise room. Caught unawares, she gaped. She’d seen weight-lifting equipment of course but nothing like this. The dumbbells made the rack they rested on sag. The smallest was marked seventy pounds. Several machines appeared to be for the upper body while others had been designed for legs. Cables with hand holds at various heights were attached to sturdy metal supports, and the cables ran to weight stacks. One padded bench had an adjustable back while another was all of one piece. He pointed.
“My design.”
Struck by the intensity in his tone, she focused on a mass of metal. There was a short reclining bench with a large plate at one end. Another weight stack was connected to the plate. Master must sit on the bench while pushing with his feet, thus building up his leg muscles. A pull-down bar, also connected to weights, dangled over where his shoulders would be.
“The all-in-one,” he said. “It gives the user the ability to work his or her whole body at the same time. I haven’t started marketing it yet but several bodybuilders have given it the thumbs up.”
There was so much cumbersome looking equipment that she wondered if there were any muscles it wasn’t designed for. Suddenly she wanted back what passed for exercise at Carnal.
“For the record, it costs a fortune, but whoever owns it won’t need anything else.”
“It’s overwhelming, Master.”
“To you maybe. For professional athletes or others dedicated to getting or staying in shape, it’s perfect.”
If a person had a large enough house and pocketbook, she wanted to say. Then what he’d just said made an impact.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why did I develop it? Football doesn’t last forever. I knew I needed something to do once I took off my pads for the last time.” He jerked his head at the complex equipment. “That’s what this is, s
omething to get behind for the rest of my life. It’s turning out to be more than I thought it would.” He sounded what, surprised and grateful maybe.
“You—you enjoy doing this, Master?” As much as I did painting?
“Yeah, I—damn it, that’s not why we’re here. Put down the bag.”
Frightened, she obeyed. Watching her, he opened it and began pulling out its contents. It contained chains and ropes, dildos and ass plugs of various sizes. He held up a length of white rope.
“You’re going to suck my cock,” he declared, “but I don’t want your hands on me. I don’t trust you.”
She forced her gaze off the proof of her slavery and onto his features.
“Me, not trust you?” He chuckled. “It’s more the other way around, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Master.”
“At least you’re honest. Hold out your hands.”
From the day she’d been captured, two men had kept her under control. Now there was only one, but she’d be insane to think she stood a chance against Master Bay. Sick at heart, she did as he commanded. Taking the key out of his pocket, he unhooked the short chain from her wrist bands.
“Turn around.”
Please no. You scare me.
Chapter Twenty-four
Maybe she’d been too slow to respond because, grabbing her shoulders, he spun her and forced her arms behind her. Rope tightened around her elbows, nearly making them touch. As if that wasn’t enough, he tied her wrists together, placed more of the rope around her waist and secured her wrists to that. Rope dangled between her legs. He forced the strand between her ass cheeks, threaded it between her legs, and, as she knew he’d do, slipped it under the rope over her navel. Bit by unrelenting bit, he pulled it tighter against her crotch. Yet another knot kept it in place.
“Carnal sent me some demo videos on how to handle my slave,” he explained. “What do you think? Am I a fast learner?”
He has me. There’s nothing I can do. “Yes, Master, you are.”
Leaving her, he again unfastened his slacks and pushed them and his shorts down around his ankles. Shoving aside the bag’s contents, he sat on the bench.
“You know what to do, slave.”
Moaning, she dropped to her knees. Her shoulders ached, but that was nothing compared to the pressure against her trapped labia. She didn’t want to lean forward because that tightened the crotch rope but had no choice.
Determined to do what she had to, she touched her closed lips to her master’s swollen cock. He was reaching for something, but she didn’t dare take her attention off her task long enough to see what it was. Damek and Reno had made her mouth fuck them several times a day. No matter how hard she tried to please them, they’d always found something wrong, some reason to punish her. Goaded on by pain and fear, she’d become what they wanted her to be.
She did that now. Parting her lips, she welcomed her master into her. She was no longer a modern, independent woman. Instead, she existed as an extension of this man, his living tool. He wanted wet pressure against his length so she gave it to him, worshipping him in ways she couldn’t comprehend.
Deeper. Deeper still. Closing her mouth around him, licking him over and over, pushing herself forward and relaxing her throat muscles. Swallowing him. Relishing his raping of her.
“That’s it?” he asked. “You can’t do any better than that?”
What more did he want? Hating herself more than she did him, she withdrew a little and turned her head to the side so his tip pressed against her cheek. Sharp pain on her thigh made her gasp. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop gagging. Looking up at him through tears, she acknowledged the short switch in his right hand.
“You don’t want to feel that again, do you?” Not giving her time to answer, he whipped her other thigh. Bile rose in her throat. Terrified she’d vomit, she tried to push him out.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Grabbing her hair, he pulled her back in place. Sliding forward on the bench, he shoved his cock deep into her.
Defeated and determined, she swallowed repeatedly. Eyes still watering, she suckled. When he let go of her hair, she thought she’d survived the worst of his temper so took a chance on straightening a little to lessen the grinding against her pussy.
“Fucking bitch. Damn, fucking bitch. Don’t you know your place?”
I’m sorry, Master, she said with her eyes. With every fiber of her being, she wanted to tell him she couldn’t stand so much pressure against her throat but maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he’d repeatedly beat her.
Fear threatened to turn into terror. Still, she suckled and licked.
“Faster. Damn it, faster.”
He struck her again, this time on her forced-behind-her arms. Pain exploded throughout her. Gasping, she started to drop down to put distance between her and the cruel weapon. His cock slipped out.
“I’m sor—“
Lifting a foot, he slammed it into her middle. Knocked off balance, she flopped onto her side. Standing, he whipped her repeatedly. Unable to get past her fear, she cried and begged. He wasn’t using all his strength, thank God, but neither did he care where he was striking her. Blow after blow landed on her arms. She pushed with her feet trying to slide away, but he kept after her, concentrating on her buttocks and thighs now, even the backs of her knees.
“Master, Master, Master!”
“Shut up! Shut the fuck up and take your punishment.”
No matter that he wanted her to stay in place, she couldn’t. Feeling like a worm wiggling over dirt, she slithered here and there. Pain became her, grew even stronger than her fear.
“Damn you, hold still!”
She didn’t see it coming, but even if she had, she couldn’t have done anything about it. One second she was on her side, the next he’d flopped her onto her back and had straddled her. Arched helplessly over her arms, she stared up at him.
“Master, please, don’t kill me.”
He didn’t hear her. How she knew that she couldn’t say. Maybe he’d slipped into a mental world much like the one she sometimes fled to. She tried to gather her safe place around her, but he was too massive. Too close.
And he was lifting the switch again.
He whipped her breasts. Her belly. Her mons. The front of her thighs and shins. No matter how much she strained, she couldn’t get off her arms so lay there as if she’d been shot. Or darted.
Hell. She’d been sold into hell.
After what seemed like forever, he stopped with his arm uplifted and face red. His freight train breathing matched hers. The flames licking through her told her he’d left marks everywhere, broken the skin. Her thighs had taken the worst of the beating. Her arms felt as if they were being pulled out of their sockets. Her right cheek stung.
Glowering, her master cocked his arm and threw the whip. It clattered against something. When he knelt beside her, she again tried to roll onto her side. Pulling her into a sitting position, he pushed the rope around her elbows down to her wrists.
“Thank you, Master.” Trembling so she thought she might shatter, she barely got the words out.
“Yeah.”
When he touched her cheek, it took every bit of self-control left in her not to shy away. The sweat on his finger made it sting even more, proof that her skin had indeed been broken. Would he want her if she’d been disfigured? Maybe he’d kill her.
“Get up.”
She tried, but her muscles refused to respond, and she sagged forward. Helplessness gripped her. To her surprise, instead of cursing or retrieving the whip, he lightly touched her arm.
“I want you on your feet.” Standing, he hauled her up against him. She wanted to place distance between herself and this monster but something about his powerful muscles kept her close. Maybe if she pressed her body against his, she could tap into some of his strength.
What was she thinking? He’d savagely beaten her.
Leaving her to try to keep her balance, he returned
to the bench and selected another rope. Shaking even more, she swallowed. “Please Master. I’ll—what do you want me to do?”
“Nothing.”
She sensed he was about to say more, but all he did was double the rope and loop it around her neck. Leaving a little slack, he knotted it in place. She wondered why he hadn’t made use of her metal collar. Rope on her throat was comforting somehow, alive almost.
Using the rope leash, he pulled her over to his massive exercise machine and secured her to it. He backed away, his gaze slowly going down her body. When he reaching the doorway, he turned off the light and closed the door behind him.
Silence wrapped around her, yet the room held the echoes of her screams. From the beginning, she’d hated revealing her pain, but tonight it no longer bothered her. Master Bay had hurt her. He needed to know.
Her legs wouldn’t stop shaking. He’d left enough slack that she could put five, maybe six feet between herself and the machine. Although the darkness hampered her, she felt around until she located the padded bench and sank onto it. Leaning forward, she assessed. The crotch rope was still making its presence known. The strands around her waist dug into her, and she couldn’t lift her hands off her ass. Straining, she extended her fingers and felt her buttocks. Punishment had left welts in numerous areas.
He could have killed her. Had come close to it.
Beyond all reason, her pussy was wet. If she was going to be mastered, let it be by a real man. A powerful beast.
Beast.
Chapter Twenty-five
About an hour later he returned, freed her from the equipment without speaking, and led her out of the room. After getting rid of the crotch rope and letting her use the toilet, he took her into his bedroom. Still silent, he neck-tied her to the footboard, changed things around so her hands were against her belly, and pushed her onto the carpet. After throwing a blanket over her, he crawled into bed. A moment later he dropped a pillow next to her. Wide awake and hurting, she waited for his breathing to lengthen, but it never did.