Carnal Slave

by Vonna Harper

  Or maybe the truth was all that stimulation had driven her crazy because otherwise reality would have destroyed her.

  “Too bad I’m so tired.” He let up on the pressure, allowing her to stand flat footed again.

  “I like to get started on the training right away. Oh well.” He slapped her breasts one at a time.

  “Gives you more time to anticipate.”

  He let go of the chain, but it remained between her legs. It had slipped down a little so it no longer touched her pussy. Insanely, she longed for the unnatural caress.

  “I’ve enjoyed your silence. Just because I’m going to take that gag out of your mouth doesn’t mean I want to hear a word from you, got it?”

  No more nasty tasting ball pressing against her teeth and stretching her jaws?

  Desperate for the relief, she nodded.

  Frowning, he shook his head. “Yeah, right. I’ve learned not to believe anything a slave-in-training tells me.”

  Slave-in-training? Truly a nightmare.

  He reached behind her and started in on the strap. He seemed to be taking a long time, maybe because he wanted to impress her with his power. Didn’t he know that wasn’t necessary? Finally, thankfully, he pulled the ball out of her mouth. Drool spun a web between her mouth and the red ball.

  She started to close her mouth but stopped, afraid to move her jaws, as circulation roared back to life. A moan escaped.

  “Damn it!” He slapped her cheek. “What’d I say about not wanting to hear your voice?”

  Now in addition to the other pain, her cheek stung. Because of the collar, she’d had no choice but to stand there and let him hit her.

  When he opened his mouth, she readied herself for another curse or command, but he only yawned. Weary as she was, she was too tense to think about sleeping.

  After rubbing his eyes, he unhooked her hands from above her. She was trying to comprehend what he’d done when he pulled her arms behind her and cuffed them. Next he unfastened her ankles but left the restraint around her right ankle. He pulled the chain from between her legs and struck off for the barn the screaming had come from. Dread slowed her response. He jerked. “Resistance really pisses me off. Believe me, you don’t want me mad.”

  Besides, fighting him wouldn’t accomplish anything. Much as she dreaded discovering what was in the barn, she needed to comprehend all she could. If someone was watching her trudge behind her captor, that person probably believed her spirit had been broken.

  No!

  Vowing not to give up, she did her best to match his stride and not think about the hobble dragging behind her. The barn’s shade enveloped her. Then he pulled back a heavy wooden door and stepped inside. Feet dragging, she followed him. She smelled leather, wood, hay, wool, and other things she couldn’t identify. Where she was still waiting for her eyes to adjust to the lighting from several low-wattage bulbs overhead, Damek walked purposefully down a wide walkway between stalls on either side. She tried to see what was in the stalls only to discover the doors were solid wood with small, barred openings at eye level. The stalls didn’t extend the full length of the barn. What appeared to be an oversized canvas curtain hid what was at the end.

  Damek stopped at one stall door, opened it, and shoved her in. There was even less light in here, but she made out a single bed with a metal frame bolted to the concrete floor. Chains dangled from the ceiling. Metal rings that looked capable of restraining a bull had been driven deep into the stall’s walls.

  Standing next to Damek, she realized the place didn’t smell of animals. Maybe the rings had once been used for cattle and horses, but that was no longer their purpose.

  Looping his finger through the ring at the front of her collar, he turned her in a circle.

  She’d never seen anything so stark looking, never felt so claustrophobic. An empty bucket stood in a corner near the door.

  “The sooner you get used to this the better. In fact, that’s your first assignment. By the time I return, I expect you to have committed every inch of this space to memory. It’s going to be your home for the foreseeable future.”

  Don’t say that!

  He jerked his head at the bucket. “That’s your toilet. I suggest you get what rest you can now because the pace is going to pick up when I return.”

  He hadn’t said how long he’d be gone. Did he intend to give her anything to drink or eat before he left? This wasn’t the first time she’d had to acknowledge his control over every aspect of her life, but it felt even worse than earlier. She didn’t know whether that was because her thirst was now all-consuming or she was too tired to think straight. He refastened her hobbles.

  Whistling under his breath, he locked her neck chain to one of the wall rings. That done, he grasped her jaw and lifted her head, making her look at him. “You will be silent while I’m gone.” He glanced at a corner of the ceiling near the door. Doing the same, she saw a security camera. “There’s a microphone in it sensitive enough to pick up every sound you make. Any questions? No talking.” He jammed his free hand over her mouth. “For any reason. That’s your first lesson, got it?”

  She nodded what little she could.

  He tightened his hold on her jaw. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have forgotten everything you thought you knew about yourself. You’ll no longer be who you once were because that’s the only way you’ll have value as far as Carnal Incorporated is concerned.”

  When he released her chin, she was so grateful she barely noticed that he was leaving the stall. Then she heard what she had no doubt was a metal bar sliding into place. He’d locked her in her. Terror lapped at her. More than a minute passed before she gained enough control over her muscles to move. The chain anchoring her to the wall was barely long enough to allow her to reach all corners of the stall. The door had been locked from the outside, her arms were secured behind her, and her legs were hobbled. What did he think she could do?

  Overkill. Impressing her with his domination.

  The sound of a male voice jerked her out of depression and into alarm. Was Damek returning already? There was enough slack in the chain that she could look out the barred opening. She didn’t spot anyone in the corridor and determined that the man’s deep tones were coming from beyond the canvas. What was going on there?

  Even with the way her heart kept hammering, she concluded that at least two men were talking but not loud enough for her to understand a word. There wasn’t anything lighthearted about their occasional laughter.

  She wouldn’t spend all her time in her stall. Eventually Damek would take her beyond the curtain and then? The question was nearly more than she could handle, and she started to turn away. Before she could finish, the heavy curtain moved. Holding her breath, she clenched her fingers until her nails bit into her palms and stared.

  A man emerged. The way he was angled, she knew he was leading something—or more likely someone. All too soon a small, naked woman with long, dark hair came into view. Her head was down, but Willow saw she was wearing a collar. The other woman’s hands had been fastened to her collar in front making it look as if she was praying. A chain dangled from something connected to her nipples. Thinking of the pain that must be causing her, Willow winced.

  As if that wasn’t enough, another man walked behind the woman rhythmically striking her buttocks with a thin switch. To Willow’s disbelief, the woman seemed unaware she was being whipped. The trio walked at a plodding pace as they traveled from one end of the corridor to the other, and as they passed by her stall, Willow noted whip marks everywhere on the woman’s body. No wonder the poor creature had screamed earlier—if that’s who she’d heard.

  Although she was horrified, Willow couldn’t take her eyes off the woman until the men shoved her into a stall near the front and closed the door behind her. Laughing, they left the barn. How long would the poor woman have to endure what had been clamped onto her breasts? Would no one come to treat the slash marks?

  Licking her numb lips, Wil
low had all she could do not to collapse. She was still trying to comprehend the incomprehensible when she realized someone was looking at her from inside the stall opposite hers. Another woman, this one with tape over her mouth, was trying to communicate with her eyes. All Willow saw was despair.

  Not her life! Please, not her life.

  Chapter Six

  “I haven’t seen you for what, nearly a year,” Stoker said as the other trainer handed Damek a blueberry muffin he’d just taken out of the oven. “Where have you been?”

  Tired as he was, Damek was even hungrier. He took a large bite. “You name it. I finished a project in Florida just before getting this assignment. Before that—where the hell was I?”

  “Isn’t that the truth.” Stoker started pouring orange juice into a couple of glasses. “I was in England much of the winter. Believe me I’ve seen enough rain to last five years.”

  Stoker might have been in England but he still sported his trademark fake and bake tan.

  Carnal trainers didn’t reveal much in the way of a personal nature with each other for one very good reason. The less they knew, the less the danger they might reveal something on the extremely unlikely chance that law enforcement or the political system went after Carnal Incorporated. Besides, as much moving around as the job called for, close friendships weren’t in the cards.

  “What’s the population here right now?” Damek asked.

  Stoker handed him one of the juice glasses, drawing Damek’s attention to Stoker’s massive hand. It was perfect for palming basketballs but could be unwieldy when it came to shoving his fingers up a slave’s sex hole.

  “Let me see. With your trainee that makes six, but we’ll have more coming in over the next few days. Members of management will show up around the first in preparation for the auction.”

  Damek whistled. “The first? What’s the rush?”

  “From what I’ve been told, that’s what fits several foreign buyers’ agenda. Damn it, if I have a month I can completely transform a subject. Less than that and there are still rough edges.”

  Stoker was probably in his fifties. From what Damek had noted, the other man prided himself as a professional, a real pro who took pride in his job. Just once had he seen Stoker so aroused he’d had to jerk off before he could continue the lesson. Stoker had been pissed at himself for temporarily losing control. In contrast, Damek accepted that his mind and cock seldom saw eye to eye. Fortunately for him but not for his trainee, just seeing her in pain often satisfied his cock.

  Damek washed down his muffin with the juice. “Thanks. Now I can get some sleep. See you at dinner. You cooking?”

  “Yep. Mexican.”

  “I’m looking forward to it. You’re one hell of a cook.”

  “One of my many skills.”

  Maybe and maybe Stoker was simply flapping his gums, not that Damek knew—just as Stoker would never guess that he’d been putting away money so eventually he could buy a place in the country, somewhere.

  Pushing himself to his feet, Damek headed for the bedroom he’d be using while he was here. The room was nothing spectacular, just another in a seemingly endless succession of nondescript Carnal rooms throughout the country.

  Damn! He needed sleep. Otherwise his essentially homeless and rootless state would get to him. More than that, he might think about what had gotten him to this place in his life, which he didn’t want to do.

  #

  For what felt like the thousandth time, Willow jerked awake. At first she thought discomfort caused by her cuffed hands and uncomfortable collar was once again responsible for her inability to stay asleep. Then she realized the door to her stall was opening. She rolled off the thin mattress. The collar made her feel as if she was standing at attention.

  Damek stepped in. A crease mark was on his right cheek, and his hair looked freshly combed. Drowning in helplessness, she waited as he crouched and unhooked the chain between her ankles, again leaving the leather in place. Next he unsnapped the leash from the wall hook and used it to draw her toward the door. Even if he gave her permission to speak, her throat was so dry she didn’t think she could. Had hunger already weakened her or was fear responsible?

  He said nothing as he led her down the hall toward the curtain. Recalling the dark haired woman’s whipped body filled Willow with dread. If only she was at work today or if not there with Mitch, cooking and cleaning for him. Having sex with him.

  Pulling the curtain aside, Damek stepped through it, bringing her with him. In contrast to the ill-lit place she’d been in, the large open area she found herself in was brightly lit. Afraid as she was to look around, she knew what she had to do. She soon spotted a nude woman standing in front of a large wooden X with her widespread arms and legs securely fastened.

  Someone had blindfolded her and shoved a rag in her mouth. Tape wrapped around her head prevented her from spitting out the rag. This woman’s breasts had nothing on them. However, she wore what Willow initially thought was a G-string. Because a light was trained on the woman, Willow soon realized it was too sturdy to be underwear. The woman repeatedly jerked about and rolled her hips from side to side. She occasionally moaned.

  Damek gripped Willow’s right nipple and turned her toward him so she could no longer see the other prisoner. “I could let you guess what’s happening to her, but I’m going to give you a hint. Hell, more than a hint. She’s housing a twin of what you had in your pussy hole last night, but that’s not the only channel she has plugged.”

  She gaped up at Damek. The pressure on her nipple wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, yet. “Ying and yang,” Damek continued. “Pleasure and pain, or in this case, unrelenting pleasure.”

  It was to be more than that, she silently corrected. Having her body stretched and restrained the way it was had to hurt the woman.

  “This is the training room. Get used to it.”

  With Damek still holding her nipple, she couldn’t really look around. What she noted included more of what she’d seen in her stall. Chains dangled from the ceiling while hooks and rings protruded from the walls. One wall sported a small opening marked by numerous bars like in a jail cell. Beyond the opening lay open land. Freedom. Something that had been stolen from her.

  Looking at the sunlight streaming in was her undoing. “No!” she screamed. “No, you can’t—I’m not—“

  “Yeah.” He squeezed her nipple, sending pain through her. “I can.”

  She screamed again, this time from pain, and struggled to wrench free. Glaring at her, he jerked down so she had no choice but to kneel at his feet. To her relief, he let go of her nipple. As the pain receded, she was left with an awful realization. She’d spoken without permission.

  Hating her emotional and physical weakness, she watched as he walked over to a large cupboard and took out some rope. He returned to her, dropped the rope next to her, and removed her handcuffs.

  Even as she tried to comprehend what was happening, she started rubbing her chaffed left wrist. Cursing, he planted his foot in her chest and shoved her onto her back. He straddled her, grabbed her leash and pulled up, choking her. Desperate for breath, she put her arms behind her and braced herself on her elbows. With his body looming over her, she couldn’t sit up. If she tried to push him off her, he’d keep on choking her—or maybe drag her over the cement floor.

  “This little lesson—“ He slapped her breasts. “is an example of who controls who. You aren’t going to forget, are you?”

  “N-o,” she managed.

  “Fortunately for me and unfortunately for you, I’m not taking you at your word. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’ll let you breathe. In exchange for that, you’ll let me tie your hands, got it?”

  Oh God, this isn’t a nightmare. It’s real. “Yes.”

  His eyes blazing, he again slapped her breasts. “Damn you.”

  “What?” she gasped. Tears nearly blinded her, and her arms started shaking from supporting her weight.

  “You have so damn
much to learn starting with how you address me. Let’s go over it again. If I let go of this—“ He gave the leash a jerk. “you will present your wrists for tying.”

  Afraid of saying the wrong thing again, she nodded as best she could. His eyes still telegraphed his anger, but it barely mattered because the pressure around her neck was slackening. Her arms gave out, and she fell back onto the floor. Alerted by his impatient grunt, she forced herself to lift her arms to him.

  Short seconds later he’d expertly tied her wrists so her palms faced each other. He’d first doubled the rope and two loose strands lay on her belly.

  “Get up.”

  She’d forgotten how wide the collar was. Now, as she awkwardly rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself to her feet, her inability to move her head scared her more than her useless arms did. Sick, she faced him.

  She again drew comparisons between herself and a dog as he hauled her over to the middle of the room where a hanging chain with a ring at the end waited. He dropped the leash, picked up the rope, and threaded the two strands between her legs. Because of the damnable collar, she couldn’t tell what he was doing behind her until the ropes pressed against her crotch. Thinking to lessen the pressure, she placed her hands against her mons. The even-tightening ropes flattened her labia and pulled her hands between her legs. She had no choice but to lean forward and rise onto her toes.

  When Damek appeared before her, she realized he’d tied her to the overhead chain directly behind her. The chant this isn’t happening continued.

  “There. Now you’re where you need to be.” He unhooked the leash and tossed it behind him, then stepped back and studied her. “I intend to hear you scream because eventually you’ll say what you need to in order to survive. Some of my co-workers believe in spelling things out, but I’d rather force my subjects to think. Wait, let me amend that. The sooner you figure out what’s required of you, the sooner things will start going easier for you—except easy is a lie.”

  He turned away and all but sauntered back to the cupboard. The way he’d tied her, she was off-balance and still on her toes. Maybe she’d have more control over her body if she could stop shaking. As a child, she’d had no choice but to go to church every Sunday and two nights a week. She read the Bible every night and prayed before every meal. No matter how much she’d wanted a stylish haircut or to dress the way most girls her age did, she knew better than to ask her fundamentalist parents.