Trent called my 800 number and asked for an 11 PM slot. Usually, the receptionist at High Power Industries booked my clients, but she was out ill and I was left answering the phone one night as I listened to Tori Amos. I told Trent I was busy. He demanded. I told him to fuck off.
“Please,” he said.
I sighed. I was bored with the conversation and I was tired of Tori Amos’ voice. I gave Trent the address to my dungeon.
“If you’re one fucking minute late, I’m gone and I’m billing your credit card.”
I didn’t dress up. I wore a skirt and a green blouse. I pulled my hair back into a bun and pulled my contacts out. They had been bothering the whole night. My glasses were expensive and chic. I only wore them when a client requested it. There was something about Trent that irked me. I didn’t want to let him think that I cared about my appearance. I looked in the mirror. I looked like a school teacher. I smiled at myself.
“Teach the boy a lesson,” I mumbled.
Trent was waiting outside the door of the dungeon.
“You’re early,” I said.
“Does that please you?”
I laughed. “No. I told you not to be late, not early.”
I opened the door and turned on the lights. My dungeon was clean and sleek and filled with naughty toys and implements. It was my office. It was my life. I kept it orderly and well-maintained.
Trent stood in the middle of the dungeon. He was dressed in an expensive suit and was wearing a Rolex, the usual bauble of my clients. I wasn’t impressed with him. I knew who he was. He was dating Alexia, the uber model. She showed up at all the high end functions in Manhattan draped across his arm like a puppy dog. Wealthy men loved being dominated. Most of my clients were wealthy and successful. Trent was not unique.
I set my purse down. “Did you fill out the questionnaire?” I had my clients fill out a questionnaire of likes and dislikes. It helped me understand their limitations and true desires.
Trent smiled. “No. I can just tell you what I’m into.”
“OK. So what are you into?”
“Domination.”
I sneered. “That’s why we're here, isn’t it? You’re wasting my time.”
Trent grabbed my arm. I tried yanking it away, but his hand kept a strong grip on my forearm.
“Let me go,” I told him firmly.
Trent released his grip. I slapped him across the face. He didn’t flinch.
“We’re done,” I told him.
Trent tried to pull me closer to him. I pulled back and slapped him again. Trent fell to his knees and buried his face in my crotch.
“Get the fuck off me.” I pounded his back with my hand. Trent released me. We stared at each other for a few seconds. I felt desire licking my body. I reached down and roughly pulled Trent’s hair. I spat in his face twice. Trent’s mouth was open and he was breathing heavily.
“I want you,” he said.
“Fuck.” My clit felt like it was on fire. I hit Trent again. I hit him hard in his shoulder. We made eye contact and then the madness began. We started tearing at each other. Hitting, kissing, licking and moaning. We fought like enemies, but moaned like lovers. He tried fisting me. I whacked him on his head.
“No!” I yelled. He paid no attention. He worked his hand in. He was splitting me open. I wrapped my legs around his neck.
“Give me your cock. I want your cock.”
I grabbed hold of his pants, pulled them down and encircled my hands around his penis.
“Is this what you wanted? To fuck me?” I lifted his cock up and slapped his balls. Trent moaned very loud this time. I slapped his balls again. I then pushed away and grabbed a narrow belt from a drawer.
“I’ll show you who’s in charge,” I said.
I hit his balls with the belt until he seemed on the verge of crying. “You’re in trouble, Dresden.”
“Fuck you.” I stalked across the room. Trent ran up behind me and pulled my hair. My whole body went backwards. I jabbed my elbows back into the chest. Trent ripped open my blouse and reached his hand into my bra and squeezed my nipples so roughly that I screamed. I did a backward kick and Trent went sprawling on the floor. I dug my high heeled shoe into his penis and balls.
“I’m in charge, Trent. Yes, I know who you are.”
“I want you to know,” he said. “I’ve known about you for a few years. Mistress Dread. Dresden Moore. I know who you are.”
I pushed my foot deeper into his balls. “How do you know my name? Dresden Moore.”
“I know lots of things, Dresden.”
I felt angry. I bent over and started beating his chest. At first, Trent took it. Then he started hitting back. Suddenly, we were in a full fight. He finally wrestled me to the ground. He lay on top of me and we stared at each other, breathless from the battle.
“I know you, Dresden.” He spoke the words with strength and conviction. I almost believed him. He kissed me then. I slapped his face. He kissed me again. Our tongues began to fight and then I felt his cock slide deep inside me. I reached up to strangle Trent. I dug my fingers into his throat. He groaned and grimaced and I released my hands. His thick cock continued to push into me. I hadn’t had sex in two years and I was luxuriating in the feelings.
“You’re mine, Dresden,” muttered Trent. “Give yourself to me.”
“I’m no one’s,” I said.
Trent pulled out of me. “You’re mine,” he reiterated.
“No, you’re mine.” I slugged him across his chest. Trent pushed on my legs and then pulled me by my hair to the cage situated against the west wall.
“Get in,” he said.
“No!”
Trent shoved me into the cage and locked it. He left the dungeon. I was trapped.
“Let me out of here, you bastard!” I was seething and panicked. Trent had gained the upper hand.
Trent ignored me and dressed. He then left the dungeon, while I remained trapped in the cage. I curled up and cried. I berated myself for allowing a client to dominate me. It had never happened before. Never.
Trent came back after what seemed like an hour. He let me out of the cage and stroked my hair. “You did well,” he said.
I cried from relief onto his white shirt.
“You’re an ass,” I exclaimed.
“I know.” Trent stroked my back.
“I never want to see you again.”
“Yes, you do. I gained the upper hand. That intrigues you.”
Trent scheduled a session once a week. We battled like enemies, fucked until I was sore and then parted ways. Trent always overpowered me. He was immune to my thrashings. He always managed to overpower me.
“You’re letting me control you,” Trent had told me. I didn’t think that was true. Trent was strong, controlling and fierce. I fought like a knight of the round table, but he beat me into submission each time.
“I’m done with you,” I told him one night.
“No, you’re not.” Trent pulled my head back and kissed me.
“Don’t do that. Don’t you dare.” I grabbed a whip and lashed Trent. He tried to grab the whip out of my hand, but I pushed him away with my other hand and attacked him again. Trent yelped. I was strong and I didn’t rein in my strength. I could see welts forming on his back.
“Bitch,” yelled Trent. He managed to grab the whip from my hand. He pushed me against the wall. He then dragged me to the Web. The Web was leather and metal and was six feet high. There were restraints to prevent a person from moving. Trent forced me against the web and secured my hands and feet.
“This is over Trent. Let me go.”
“It’s not over until I say it is,” said Trent.
I rattled the web, but couldn’t move or break free. I was mad, upset, and on the verge of tears.
“Let me go!”
I heard Trent searching through drawers. “Stay out of my things, Trent.”
I then heard Trent’s footsteps. He was behind me and stroking my hair. Trent pressed some
thing cold against my skin.
“What is that?” I was worried. Tears crept down my cheeks.
“This is what you want, Dresden. You don’t want power. You want to submit.”
“No, I don’t. We are so done Trent.”
Trent then took the cold metal and started snipping at my latex corset. He had pressed scissors against my back and was cutting off my clothing. Trent was rough with the scissors and a few times it felt like the scissors had pierced my skin. When my back and buttocks were exposed, Trent ran his hands across my body.
“Such a pretty girl,” said Trent. “I love seeing you cry.”
My face was wet with tears.
“Let me go, Trent. Please.”
“Beg some more.”
I swallowed. “Please let me go.”
“That’s not good enough. Beg again.”
I felt a quick rage overtake me. “Fuck you.”
After a few seconds, I felt a whip sear my skin. It was painful. I cried out, but this seemed to spur Trent on. He started hitting me in rapid succession.
“Stop!” I yelled.
Trent put his body against me. I could feel his cock jutting against my buttocks.
“Dresden, my beauty.”
“This isn’t fair.” I was sobbing.
“Shhhh. Hush, my little slave.”
“I’m not your slave. I’m in power.” I felt desperate.
“But you’re the one tied up.”
I rattled the restraints. “This is over, Trent.”
“Submit to me, Dresden. Submit.”
“No.”
“You’re in pain. You’re miserable until you submit. You so desperately want to trust. You’re tired of being in control. Give yourself to me.”
“Stop. Just stop. Please let me go.”
“Give yourself to me.”
I sobbed.
“Be my slave, Dresden. Call me Master.”
“Stop…” My throat was thick with emotion. Trent stepped away from me and I felt the whip crash against my skin. Over and over. I howled.
“Give yourself to me.”
“Please, stop.”
I heard Trent drop the whip and approach me.
“Be my slave, Dresden.” His breath was hot on my neck.
“I…” I couldn’t form words. I didn’t want to give in to him and yet I did want to give into him. I was conflicted and miserable. The idea of not having to be in control was appealing and sexy to me. I had thought of submitting to a Master numerous times in the past, but no man I met seemed worthy of my submission. Trent was different though. He was strong mentally. A true warrior. If I gave in to him, he could care for me.
“Say it, Dresden.”
“I want…”
“Say it.”
“I want to be your slave.”
“Why Dresden?”
“I want you in control.” The words slipped out. I felt relief. Trent slid his cock into my pussy from behind. I felt whole and complete. The pleasure numbed my back where I knew welts had formed from the whip.
I became Trent’s slave and I called him Master. The word felt strange in my mouth, but it was also liberating. Our moments were special. I felt my wounds from the past were healing. I felt less angry. With every punishment and degradation I was getting healed.
After two months of being a slave to Trent, I received a note at my apartment on thick blue paper. The note read:
Your appearance is requested at The Darkest Pit on September 10th. Wear red. Make yourself beautiful. You will be meeting my other slaves.
I ripped up the note.
“Other slaves?!” I yelled. I was furious. I began plotting my revenge.
The Darkest Pit
Megan:
It took me hours to get dressed. I went to the salon, had a manicure, a pedicure and got waxed. I chose a black bandage dress and Manolo Blahnik heels. My nails were bright blue. I felt beautiful. I was excited to meet the other slaves. A limo came to pick me up at 8 PM on September 10th. When the car pulled up outside a building with a door with no numbers or lettering, a tall red-haired woman emerged. The chauffeur opened my door and the red-haired woman greeted me.
“Megan?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. I’m Sinister Light. Follow me. The others are waiting.”
She led me through beautiful and ornate rooms. There were several men sitting at a long bar and exceptional looking women standing in groups, chatting. I got several curious glances.
Sinister Light knocked lightly on a door and then opened it. The room was full of French antiques. The walls were papered in white and red velvet. The room felt luxurious. Sitting primly in white was a brunette woman with large, round breasts. There was also a woman reclined on a chaise lounge sipping champagne. She was honey blonde, with fine features and a pert nose. She was pretty without being beautiful. She looked imperious. She was wearing a strapless red dress.
“Ladies, this is Megan. Megan meet Carice and Dresden. Trent will be with you shortly.”
“Tell him to hurry up.” Dresden sounded angry.
Sinister Light nodded in her direction, but then left the room without a word.
“How long have you two been waiting?” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Too long,” sneered Dresden.
“Not long,” said Carice.
“So are we supposed to get to know each other?”
“For what purpose?” asked Dresden. “Trent’s just fucking with us.”
Carice sighed. “Master would not do that.”
“Do you know what this place is?” I asked.
“It’s called The Darkest Pit. It’s a BDSM club.” Carice’s voice was soft.
“Like a dungeon?”
“Yes,” said Carice. “Exactly like that.”
“So you’ve been here before.”
“I work here. I serve Master and whoever else he wants me to serve.”
Dresden laughed. “Pathetic.”
Carice and I stared at her. “Are you a slave of Master’s as well?” I asked.
“You could say that.”
“Do you work here?” I was very curious about her. Her attitude was disrespectful.
“Not a chance. I have my own dungeon.”
“But you’re Master’s slave?” Carice sounded shocked.
“I guess I’m what’s called a switch in BDSM language.” Dresden swallowed more champagne.
“This place seems exciting,” I said.
Carice smiled and Dresden was expressionless, though I could tell she was seething. I was going to ask another question, but Trent walked in wearing a tuxedo.
“Ladies.”
Carice and I stood up. Dresden remained on the chaise sipping her dwindling champagne. Trent paid no attention to her.
Trent sat down on an overstuffed red floral chair. “I’m guessing you’re all wondering why you’re here.”
“To meet your whores.” Dresden downed what was left of the liquid in her glass.
“Not exactly.” Trent crossed his legs. “To help the three of you fulfill your destinies.
Dresden started shaking with laughter. “What bullshit! I’m leaving.”
“If you leave Dresden, you’re walking away from happiness. You and I both know you can’t do that. Your misery would consume you.”
Dresden leaned back in the chaise. Her face became hard. The room grew quiet.
“Megan, you’re first.” Trent stood up.
I followed Trent out the door. He led me down a hall and into a room where several men, at least five, were drinking. There was a raised platform in the middle.
“Take off your clothes, Megan.”
The men stared at me. I became very self-conscious. I tried to unzip my dress, but my hands were shaking. Trent helped me. When I was naked I was instructed to get on my hands and knees on the platform. I was both excited and scared.
“Gentlemen,” said Trent. “This is your gang rape whore. Her holes are yours.”
Someone turned on music, electronic funk. Trent leaned against the wall and watched as the men’s cocks were stuck in my pussy, ass and mouth. The men were rough. They pounded me until I thought I couldn’t take it, but then I begged for more. Cum was dripping from my mouth, back and cunt.
“This is your destiny, Megan. To be a whore. This is what I know you have fantasized about. Getting fucked by multiple men into exhaustion. I can no longer be your Master, but any of these men fucking you would love to use you and degrade you.” Trent wiped my mouth with a tissue as another cock slid into my vagina. I was quivering and moaning and barely registered the words Trent had said.
“Choke me,” I said. One of the men heard me. He yanked my head by my hair. He took his belt and secured it around my neck.
“Do you want it tighter?”
“I’m not weird.” I could feel tears forming.
“Fuck no. You’re hot and kinky. I love that.” The man tightened the belt until I was gasping for breath. He then released his grip and I felt relief flood me. Relief that my desires were accepted and encouraged.
Carice:
Trent led me out of the room. I was anxious to leave. Dresden unnerved me. She seemed so brittle. Almost unstable. She looked as if she wanted to strike me. I wouldn’t have minded, if that’s what Trent had wanted. In the Bronx, she would have been one of the girls who I wanted to fight. Not long ago, we would have torn each other’s hair out.
Trent led me to an open room. Sinister Light took my hand and guided me to the middle of the floor. There were restraints on the floor. My clothes were taken off and I was tied up in a prostrate position. I saw Marcus, my torturer from several weeks ago, walk into the room. He didn’t glance at me. Trent and Marcus talked for some time, then Trent walked over to me. He stared and then took his shoe and kicked my side lightly.
“This is your special night, Carice.”
Marcus stood next to Trent and gazed at me. “You’re mine now.”
Trent crouched down and moved a strand of hair from my face. “You’ve been a wonderful slave and I have been privileged to be your Master. I’m giving you to a new Master. You will be cared for, cherished and degraded.”
Slaves of the Billionaire Page 5