The Domination of Diana

by M. J. Aleese

  The training instructors believed that after a while of these demeaning painful duties, servicing customers in the dining room or back rooms became a privilege. Liam couldn’t argue with their results. Slaves begged to be tethered and beaten by one or two men, instead of enduring the bathroom stocks.

  Liam felt bad that he’d blown off the gathering with Troy the other night. He imagined Troy sitting lonely and pathetic at the sports bar watching basketball and drowning in beer. When he took Troy to Inferno, he’d meant to introduce him to BDSM for Diana. However, the way he’d wimped out with the brunette, Nicole, showed that he didn’t have the balls for domination. Truthfully, Liam didn’t care. Diana was learning her lessons, and he and Troy could continue their friendship.

  Actually, when they first met in middle school, Troy beat Liam up. It was over some stupid pre-teen dispute. Yet, somehow they developed a friendship. Troy, being larger, even protected Liam, on more than one occasion. They were both handsome and smart. They had no problems with college, but Liam was always better with the ladies.

  Women like bad boys. There’s no question Liam fits that bill. Conversely, Troy falls hard for females. First, it was some slut in high school, then two at Northwestern. They’d all broken his heart. It just proved that giving your heart away never worked. Now, it seemed Diana would do the same thing. She would break Troy’s heart too.

  Liam didn’t officially know that for sure. He’d asked Troy via text how Diana was doing. The answer was short: I don’t know. Liam reminded himself to subdue his smile during that dinner conversation.

  Now that Liam discovered dear daddy Carmichael, love wasn’t something he wanted or craved. The intoxicating rush of power was more than enough!

  Clinton said that Troy had been back to Inferno, which surprised Liam. Maybe the guy was stronger than he acted. But, honestly, Liam didn’t want to encourage his return. He couldn’t take the chance of Troy and Cierra’s paths crossing.

  Troy sipped his beer and waited for Liam. The last text said he would be there about six-thirty. It didn’t surprise Troy that Liam was late. He’d been late more times than not, throughout their lives. Troy smiled, referencing his new knowledge, and wondered if Liam could be trained to be more punctual. That reminded him of Dr. Sells and her chastity belt.

  His discussion with her the other night revealed more than all the hands on activity with Nicole. Maybe it was the combination, an amalgamation of Liam’s brutality, the erotic power over Nicole, and the dominating affection between the Terrills. The whole BDSM thing was suddenly so clear and right. If only, he could just reach Diana, he would take responsibility for his previous lack of control, and explain the change in their relationship.

  Dr. Sells said that Derek was open and honest with her in the beginning. The entire initiation was frightening and painful, yet liberating and beautiful. She described a bliss that comes from giving your life over to a master you totally trust and love.

  Liam always called Troy a sap -– saying he cared too much about feelings. But, Dr. Sell’s words made him think about Nicole and the other club sluts. They truly seemed satisfied with their lives, yet they didn’t have the trust or love that Dr. Sells spoke about. Actually, Nicole told him that sluts don’t have emotions. Troy asked Dr. Sells about that. Juliana explained that the club slaves had been conditioned to suppress their emotions. Everyone has emotions, but people can learn to keep them at bay.

  Troy thought about that all day. The sluts were conditioned with discipline and punishment. But, how many people are conditioned by failed relationships? There are millions of people who subdue their feelings because of past experiences and rejections. Not everyone shares a bond with someone like Troy witnessed between Derek and Dr. Sells. Yet, many are satisfied with what they have. Troy longed to reach Diana soon; he knew their bond was real and isn’t willing to lose that forever.

  Amusingly, the atmosphere of the sports bar now felt comparatively tame. The short shorts and tight t-shirts may as well be full-body-armor compared to the Inferno. Troy laughed at the contrast as he peered around the bar. Watching the patrons he wondered: could any of these normal couples really be master and slave?

  “Hey, man, long time no see. What’s up?" Liam asked as he draped his jacket over the tall chair and took a seat.

  “The biggest is Diana. I haven’t spoken to her since last Friday, hell, almost a week ago.”

  “No shit?”

  “You haven’t by chance heard from her, have you?" Troy didn’t expect Liam’s help, but he was grasping at straws.

  “Are you kidding? We aren’t exactly BFFs." Liam smiled with satisfaction. That was a great answer and totally true. Fuck partners, master and slave, part-owner, but best friends forever – hell no!

  Troy looked into the foam of his beer. “Yeah, I know. It’s just weird. I’ve talked to her work, friends, and parents. No one has heard anything. You know, I get that she was pissed at me for storming out. But, then she sent texts to make-up. I think I might call the police. It has been too long. What if something happened and she is somewhere hurting?”

  Liam fought to contain his grin. Yeah, she’s hurting and she’s going to hurt a lot more. “If you want to do that, man, I think you should. But, be prepared for the worst.”

  “Like she’s dead?”

  “No, like she left you. And, she hasn’t contacted you because she’s done and doesn’t want the wedding thing anymore. I mean didn’t you tell me about some note you found?”

  “Yeah, I found a note in her apartment. Did I tell you about that? Shit, I don’t remember what I did that night. I was so fucking out of it." Troy sipped his beer. “I’ve thought about her leaving. But so what? She decided to call off the wedding. She still would contact her folks, right?”

  “Maybe she’s embarrassed. They were spending all that dough on the big day and now she’s throwing it away.”

  “I didn’t think of it that way. But, we were paying for most of it. Maybe she is embarrassed." Troy settled back. He was glad Liam came to the bar. Yes, he acted like a fucking monster with Nicole, but they are friends and that won’t change. Maybe Liam has some dual personality thing. Troy can live with that, as long as he does not witness that other one again, especially not with Nicole.

  They worked away from the Diana subject and talked about sports, the stock market, government… They knocked back a couple of beers and filled their arteries with greasy food, just like old times. The subject of Nicole or the Inferno also didn’t come-up. Liam thought it would be better to keep Troy away from there. And Troy didn’t want to say anything that would cause Nicole problems. It was clear Liam possessed a lot of power. Troy wasn’t ready to trust him. But, he did have questions.

  “So how do you like working for Dad? He seems like a real nice guy.”

  Liam grinned, “I guess that depends on which side of the conference table your sitting." Liam took another sip of his beer and continued, “I like it. Carmichael International is bigger than I ever knew. Even the research I did before agreeing to the job didn’t prepare me.”

  “I think it’s cool, him offering you the position. I mean since you hadn’t had contact for twenty-five years.”

  “Yeah, it was weird at first. He left my mom when I was five. But, that’s history. She’s the one that kept us apart, not him. See what happens when bitches make decisions.”

  “Whoa, dude, that’s your mom.”

  “Yeah, whatever, in the last nine months I have learned more than in the first twenty-nine years. She never should have kept us apart. I sure as hell will never let some fucking female make decisions for me ever again." Liam’s knuckles blanched on the handle of his mug as he threw back the remaining amber liquid. “You’re better off without that bitch anyway.”

  Troy didn’t think so, but he wasn’t getting into it with Liam in the middle of a filled bar. “So what other enterprises does Carmichael International have besides the Creation Inferno?”

  “Shit, that’s nothing. It
’s Daddy Dearest’s play-thing. The company is a major player and investor in mega corporations throughout the world. Distribution and relocation is a huge piece. There’s a big sale next week. I’ve been in contact with buyers arranging things for a while.”

  “Congratulations, it sounds like he is giving you more and more responsibility.”

  “Not to mention dough." Pulling out a roll of cash, “Tonight’s on me. It’s my way of saying sorry I’ve been unavailable lately. Just lots happening at work.”

  “You don’t need to do that. But thanks.”

  Cierra’s knees hurt and her neck ached, being under the table made her contort to a position similar to one in the dog cage. She couldn’t sit upright or stretch out her legs. At least this duty saved her ass and cunt from cocks. Her holes were raw. Nevertheless, she dripped with need and rubbed herself whenever possible.

  Mistress Debbie warned of caning if any member left her table unsatisfied. Cierra experienced the cane a few times in her old life with Liam as well as upon her initiation. It isn’t an experience she cared to repeat. The men knew she was under the table. They would snap their fingers or pat their legs to call her to their seat. Currently she had multiple cocks in various stages of engorgement. She’d already sucked down multiple loads of emissions. Her nearly empty stomach fought with the varying tastes. Thankfully, some of the men fed her scraps from their plates. It helped settle the nausea.

  The cock in her mouth right now wasn’t the biggest she’d ever serviced. It was however, thick and pungent. The man held her body with his knees and secured the loop of her earring with his hand. There was enough tension to say, you’re not leaving here bitch until I release you or, you’re gonna fucking get this ripped from your ear. Cierra did her best to work him to his climax, she even used her hands to massage his hairy balls and her tongue to tantalize the sensitive underside of his shaft. It was as he began to shoot his fluid down her throat that Cierra feared she couldn’t take another drop. Her stomach began to revolt.

  Taking advantage of the man’s temporary change of focus, Cierra pulled away, allowing him to ejaculate all over his jeans. She didn’t look back as she bolted from her station and ran for a bathroom. The man’s voice could be heard cussing up a storm, over the dull din of voices and music. Running from the poker room her breasts bounced under the thin t-shirt and her pussy clinched in fear. The closest bathroom was a men’s, but she didn’t care. Cierra’s goal was to not vomit on the floor. She made it to a stall just in time.

  The lack of food and overabundance of cum was too much. It came back up in waves. When done, she knelt with her head on the cool steel seat with her skin flush, drenched with perspiration. Maybe she would be able to resume her post unnoticed? Cierra thought as she straightened her outfit and timidly opened the stall door. Amazingly, no one was in the small room. She went to the sink to wash out her mouth. Suddenly, the sound of music filled the tiled room. Petrified, Cierra looked into the mirror to see Clinton entering. Her cunt clenched, and she fell to the floor in submission. She swallowed the water she’d intended to spit.

  He lifted her body by the roots of her red hair. “Slave, what did you do?”

  “I’m so sorry, Master. I needed to vomit. I think I ate too much cum…” Her words were silenced by the slap of his hand.

  “Do you think you can leave your post at your own discretion?”

  Her voice now fought to answer over the sobs that came from her chest. “No, Sir. I just didn’t want to…”

  Another slap, “Do you think we fucking care what you want?" He lifted her limp body and turned her toward the sink. “Hold on, bitch. Your punishment starts now.”

  Cierra obeyed and gripped the cool porcelain bowl. Looking into the mirror, she viewed a red haired slut with black streaked cheeks. Behind the pathetic slave, Clinton’s wide chest filled the width of the looking glass. She could see his unbuttoned suit jacket. His tie and shirt were in place. She couldn’t see, but guessed his belt and trousers were also intact. The overseer merely unzipped his trousers and removed his engorged cock. This verified Cierra’s worthlessness. She didn’t deserve anything more than a punishment fuck. “Spread your legs, slut, and loosen your hole. I’m fucking your ass." She pushed her ass out in obedience, but terror seized her insides as she realized, he wasn’t using lubricant. The numerous recent invasions had her sore and tender.

  His shaft was large, no doubt enlarged with power. Feeling the pain as he spread her butt cheeks and assaulted her tender skin, Cierra screamed in agony. “Shut the fuck up or you’re getting more.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” She managed between whimpers.

  “You will." There was no room for argument. In and out he thrust himself. His balls bounced on her tender ass as he pushed. Holding her ass and forcing her to bend forward he plunged deeper and deeper. Cierra managed to remain silent, but she couldn’t stop the tears that ran like black streams over her painted cheeks. It was right before he ejaculated that he reached around and flicked her clitoris. The sensation caused the intense pain to shift to electricity. She forgot the permission rule, a memory lapse that would cost her, and as his fingers penetrated her wet cunt, her body shook in waves of orgasmic convulsions. “You are a natural slut.”

  Cierra couldn’t believe that she’d actually come, while he’d been abusing her so violently. He made her lick him clean, first his fingers then his cock. When she was done, he continued his discipline, in a very businesslike tone. “Leaving your post is a serious offense. Coming without permission is also a punishable offense. Follow me.”

  Cierra walked a step behind Master Clinton, obediently propelling herself to her unknown punishment. She could feel her cum slick thighs rubbing as her juices intermixed with the ones seeping from her tight hole. He refused permission for her to clean herself.

  They went back into the poker room. Clinton forced Cierra onto a raised platform. He took a microphone and spoke to the crowd. The room contained multiple poker tables. The dealers were male Inferno employees and each table held five to seven men, with stacks of chips and glasses of liquor. The only females within the room were waitresses and slaves under tables. They knew better than to speak and kept their eyes diverted.

  Clinton’s voice resonated respectfully over the clamor of the room. “Gentlemen, please excuse the interruption. As you know, here at Creation Inferno we pride ourselves on service." The men murmured in agreement, “Unfortunately, I have a slut here with us today who is new to this job. She decided to deviate from her duties tonight and left her post without permission." The murmurs continued. Clinton directed Cierra to kneel, face to the ground. “I ask you gentlemen, seeing as this slut is new, should we go easy on her tonight?”

  Resounding from the floor, “No!”

  Cierra’s heartbeat intensified, she had no idea what was about to happen, but she knew it wouldn’t be good. “Should she be punished for her offense?”

  “Yes!” Her wet thighs became wetter as her cunt throbbed in anticipation.

  “Master James, I believe this cunt owes you an apology. Would you like to punish her yourself or would you prefer to watch, as I do it.”

  The same voice that cussed as she ran from her post could be heard throughout the large room. Because Cierra’s face was on the dusty floor of the platform, she couldn’t see the man, but she could hear his response. “I think I’d like to beat her ass here and then take her elsewhere for that apology.”

  The room erupted in cheers.

  “Very well, Master James. We want all our members to be satisfied. If that will make you happy, you may do as you please." More cheers. Cierra could hear the commotion as Master James approached the stage. Next, she heard Masters Clinton and James discuss bondage appropriate for her beating. Cierra wept silently as she listened to her fate being debated.

  They secured her wrists with wide leather cuffs that were then connected. Her ankles were bound in similar leather cuffs and secured to a two foot long bar. Master Cli
nton referred to it as a spreader. This kept her legs separated and her pussy vulnerable. The degradation of everyone seeing her wet thighs, added to her humiliation. Her wrist cuffs were attached to a chain hanging from the ceiling. They raised the chain, stretching her, until the balls of her feet and toes brushed the floor. Master James enjoyed the placing of the ball gag into her mouth. When he did, he whispered, “Bitch, you are going to be sorry you fucked with me." He was right; she was already very sorry. She tried to convey that with her eyes, praying for some sympathy. It didn’t come.

  The instrument of choice was a long leather whip. It reminded Cierra of Indiana Jones. The room of men hushed as Master James practiced the flicking of the leather. The whistling and crack instigated an eruption of cheers. It was good that Cierra had the ball gag. There was no way she could suppress her screams or fear. Spittle dripped from her mouth as tears and snot ran down her face. Even with blurred vision, she could see Master James as he took aim. She saw his arm rear back, heard the whistle, and felt the crack. The impact simultaneously produced agonizing pain and the crowd’s approving cheer. The number of blows was at Master James’ discretion. His desire to have her conscious for her apology is the only reason he finally stopped the assault.

  They chose to leave her sweat drenched, welted body on display until the time he chose to take her to a back room. This public display allowed her abuser the opportunity to play more poker, while simultaneously adding to her shame. Another club slut was assigned to keep her conscious. Cierra would have begged for mercy, but the gag was still in place. Each time her eyes closed, the slut applied an electrical wand. It delivered a painful current, causing her body to convulse. Before long, Cierra feared blinking.

  Chapter Ten