He let her mouth find his hand, and her swollen lips pressed against his fingers.
“Will you serve me with your tits, Bitch?” he asked again. He reached down to support her creamy mounds in his hands from below.
“Yes, master, I will serve you with my… ahhhh!” she shrieked when he took the two clips in his hands, released them and re-attached them to her nipples in new locations, causing pain to blossom anew in the sensitive flesh.
“Go on,” said, twisting and pulling at the clips while she writhed on her knees at his feet.
“With… my… tits,” she forced out through gritted teeth. “Please stop, master. It hurts,” she begged hoarsely.
“Say the whole thing,” he demanded, pulling up so hard that she rose half-way to her feet.
“I… will… please stop! ...serve you with… ahhhhh!... my …oh god it hurts! ...tits!” Olivia finally forced out.
He released her, and she fell back to her knees, weeping. Her nipples screamed with renewed agony and she felt anger rising in her. She had followed every order. She had even given up her name and was now prepared to do whatever disgusting thing he required of her. Why did still he have to hurt her?
“Please, master,” she sobbed. “What have I done wrong?”
As if in answer to her question, she felt the sudden heavy impact of his boot, when he kicked her head directly on the temple. A red flash of pain exploded in her head and she fell again. This time, she could feel the sole of his boot pressing down on her ear, pressing her head into the cold concrete floor.
An instant later, she the sharp impact of a stiff rod lashed into the softness of her breasts. She screamed in shock and pain.
“What you did wrong was question my actions,” Caine said, as he beat her exposed breasts and abdomen repeatedly. “I do not explain my actions to my slaves.”
“I’m sorry, master. Please stop,” she whimpered.
He stopped and said sternly, “You will apologize for your presumption Bitch.”
“I will,” Bitch said quickly. “I am sorry I questioned you, master. I promise never to do it again.” She thought resentfully that she had only asked him what she had done wrong. Why did she have to apologize?
“And, you will humbly beg me to punish your nipples with the clips,” he went on. When she hesitated, he added, “Otherwise, I may change my mind and put you back on that frame for the night.”
She swallowed hard. She could not risk an entire night hooked up to that infernal machine. Anything was preferable to that.
Slowly, forcing out each word with an obvious effort, she said, “Please… punish my… nipples with… the clips.”
“Show me your tits,” he ordered. “Present them to me.”
Reluctantly, she straightened her back and pulled her shoulder blades together, causing her fine breasts to lift up and away from her chest.
He seized the offered mammaries by the metal clips, and began once again to twist and pull them unmercifully until she feared that he would tear the tender knobs off her body.
“Will you serve me, Bitch?” he asked again and again, while she tearfully begged him to stop and promised to serve him.
Without warning, he released her, and she dropped down, curling into a ball, trying to protect her suffering nipples and soothe the pain by rubbing them against her legs.
“Get up, Bitch,” he said harshly.
Reluctantly, she rose again to her knees.
“Will you serve me with your cunt?” he demanded, resuming the catechism.
“I will serve you with my… cunt,” she repeated weakly.
“Open your legs and show me your cunt,” he directed.
She was not sure exactly what he wanted, but she was afraid to ask him. She lay back over her bound arms, spread her knees apart, and arched up her pelvis, glad that she could not see herself in this degrading position. She waited nervously, wondering if he would begin beating her again if her position was not what he had in mind.
To her relief, he did not take the opportunity to whip her exposed sex. Instead, he explored her open pussy with his fingers, casually stroking her for a time. Without any warning, he suddenly took hold of the clip on her clitoris and began to viciously pull and twist it, as he had done a moment before with the nipple clips..
Olivia screamed weakly, but she had to force herself not fling herself violently around for fear that her fleshy button might be damaged or even torn completely off. She babbled pitifully in her distress and begging him to release her, to forgive her, to be kind and so on. At last, he released her and she fell back, her innocent clitoris throbbing terribly.
“Will you serve me with your ass?” he asked. “Get up, Bitch, and answer me,” he said when he saw that she continued to lie on her back and cry. “Will you serve me with your aristocratic ass?”
She spoke the required words between sobs. “I… uh… will serve… oh… you… with… ah… my ass,” she responded.
“Then show me your ass, before I lose my patience, Bitch,” he said.
Still weeping, Olivia rolled over onto her front. Keeping her face on the floor, she arched her back as much as she could, and presented her buttocks to him, lifting them as high as possible.
“Spread your knees,” he snapped, striking her bottom unexpectedly with the rod he had used on her earlier. She yelped, and quickly opened her legs.
A moment later, Olivia felt his fingers invading her tiny bottom hole, first one, then two and finally three at once. The fingers formed a little cone, beginning by delving into her, then spreading apart to stretch her anal opening painfully. She groaned, but did not dare move to escape from his unwanted attentions.
He removed his fingers from her rear orifice, unzipped the back of the hood and lifted it from her head. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the presence of light after long hours in total darkness.
“Look at me, Bitch,” he commanded, his hand under her sculpted chin.
She stared up at him steadily with her pale blue eyes.
“Will you beg me to fuck you, to fuck you like a dog?” he asked.
She paled and hesitated, but only for a second before replying, “Yes, master, I will. Please fuck me, sir. Fuck me like a dog.”
He pulled her roughly to her feet by her hair, ignoring her groans of pain.
“Get over there, and lie face down,” he ordered, pointing to a stainless steel slab that looked something like a coroner’s examining table. Olivia staggered across the room to the table, and placed her face, breasts and abdomen on the cold steel surface. She yelped softly at the sudden icy chill the metal table imported to her naked flesh.
“Put your head in the cradle,” he said. There was padded semi-circular block attached to one end of the table. It had a hinge on one side, and attached to the hinge was an identical semi-circular block. It was a pillory, designed to capture and restrain the head of whoever was on the table
Olivia obediently placed her neck on the block, with her head on the far side looking down at the end of the steel table a few inches under her nose. Caine closed the top over her, and locked it. Her body was now completely hidden from view by the pillory.
He left her for a moment, and returned wheeling a large mirror, which he placed two feet in front of the table, facing her. With this aid, she could see what most of he was doing, except when he was directly behind her. This, of course, was not the purpose Caine had put the mirror there. It was there so that he could see her face as he had his way with her.
“Now plant your feet apart, with your legs straight,” he said. “I want your ass in the air, begging for a fuck.”
Her position was certainly inviting, almost asking to be sexually violated. The beautiful blond slave was stretched across the metal table, bent over with her legs spread wide to offer an unobstructed view her golden-tufted pussy and her wrinkled little brown asshole. When he stood behind her he could see her face clearly in the big mirror.
He released the clip on her clitoris, and pu
t it away in his pocket. She sighed with relief. He inserted his fingers in her sheath and began to expertly arouse Olivia, teasing her clitoris with flicks, rubs and tugs. In a few minutes, lubrication began to flow inside her pussy and she felt the glow of sexual excitement spreading over her body .
“You wish to be fucked like a dog, like the bitch that you are?” he asked, opening his fly and pulling out his long, stiff rod
“Yes, master,” she said, looking back at him a little nervously in the mirror. In truth, she was ready. “Yes, please fuck me like a dog.”
“You beg me to fuck you up the ass, like a dog?” he said, standing behind her now, his thighs touching her buttocks, his penis resting in the valley between her rear mounds.
“Oh, no, not that way, please,” Olivia said in sudden alarm, collapsing forward onto the table and closing her legs. “I’ve never done it that way, sir. Please don’t… aahhhh!”
He responded by placing his hand on the small of her back to keep her from moving then taking the clip back out of his pocket, and re-attaching it to her now swollen clitoris. It was much more painful than before, since the tissue was so engorged with blood and every nerve tingling. He pulled and twisted the clip, and Bitch did her pitiful best to conform the motions of her hips to his manipulations to avoid having her flesh torn from her body.
“No, stop… I’ll do it… oh God, I’ll die… please let me… ah,” she begged.
When he finally relented, squeezing the handles to release the teeth that bit her so cruelly, she instantly began to babble, “Fuck me in the ass, please, like a dog. Fuck me any way you want. I am your dog. Don’t hurt me any more, please, fuck me, I beg you. Use me…” and so on for a long time.
He ordered her to place her ass back up in the original position. She did it without hesitation, never ceasing her servile pleading.
Caine now slid his member into her still-wet pussy, and stroked deeply in and out a few times. This quickly brought Olivia back to a boil again. She tried to match the strokes with movements of her hips, to increase the growing sensation coming from her slot.
“Open wide and hold the position,” he said, taking his massive organ in hand and placing it at the entrance to her rectum. “If you move again, I will hurt you.” Strangely this threat, coming after all that Olivia had undergone already, was the most frightening thing he had said to her. Perhaps it was because of the vagueness: it left open so many possibilities from bamboo shoots under the fingernails to boiling in oil. Or perhaps it was the implication that he had not hurt her yet, not really. If that was true, Olivia did not want to find out what Caine’s idea of “hurt” might be.
He grunted, and forced the head and the first two inches of his rod in with a slow, steady stroke. Olivia screamed as her little ring conformed itself painfully to the girth of the invader, but she did not dare move again to escape. Her face was contorted with pain and fear as her little hole was terribly stretched by the fat rod pushing it aside. Her rectal ring went into spasm, involuntarily squeezing his insistently probing shaft.
“Stop, you’ll tear me! Please stop,” she begged.
“Keep your ass up, Bitch, or you’ll be back on that frame all night,” Caine growled. She wept, but complied. “Now lock your knees, and beg me to fuck you harder,” he demanded.
She obeyed as well as she could. “Ow, oh please, fuck… fuck me… ow, not so fast, please… harder… f… fuck me harder, sir… please oh! Ow!” she stuttered.
He continued to drive into Olivia until his entire length was buried in the suffering housewife and his scrotum bounced gently against her lower lips. He rested for a moment, and then he began to back out. She cried out in her weak voice, “Help me, God, please help me! I’m going to die!”
“Nonsense,” grunted her master. “You’re not going to die from a fuck. Now start fucking me back, or I will punish you.”
She was desperate enough to try anything. Perhaps if she cooperated with this assault, he would climax sooner and end it at last. She bit her lip and began to draw her hips forward to assist his upstroke.
As she continued to stroke his cock, she stared up at the ceiling and howled for mercy very much like the dog she had called herself. At long last, after what seemed like hours, she felt his penis pulse as he shot off deep inside her colon.
He seemed to be in no hurry to pull out of her, and her rectal ring clutched him so firmly that the blood escaped from his engorged cock only very slowly. His erection seemed to last forever inside her.
Caine reached over Olivia’s back to wrap his hands around her slender neck. “I imagine that back in Celestial County you believed that becoming a sex slave and being fucked like this was ‘a fate worse than death’. Am I right?”
“Yes, master, you are right,” Olivia whispered with what remained of the tatters of her voice. She remembered that she had wished for death just a short time ago, before Caine had released her from the metal frame.
“I’m going to give you a chance to escape a future fate worse than death.” He tightened his grip on her throat, with his thumbs pressing into his beautiful slave’s windpipe. She made a gurgling sound. “So, if you prefer death to serving as my slave, just tell me and I’ll snap your skinny neck like a chicken, and you will never have to be used by me again.”
There were black spots dancing before her eyes from the lack of oxygen. She knew now that she was too much of a coward to seek escape from her enslavement through death.
“No, master,” she whispered, barely able to force the words out through her constricted windpipe. “Please don’t kill me. I don’t want to die. Let me be your slave.”
“I thought you would say that,” Caine sneered. “Better the life of a cum-slut than no life at all, hey?” He looked down at her in satisfaction. “If you want to continue to remain my slave, and alive, you will improve your ass-fucking technique, Bitch, until you are as skillful as a hundred-crown whore.”
Olivia hurriedly reassured her master. “I understand, sir, and I will be much better next time. I will do it just the way you like it.”
The words were the right ones for thoroughly a broken slave, but Caine thought he still detected some rebellion in the fallen aristocrat, lurking below the surface of her eyes. He had owned many female slaves over the years and he prided himself on his intuition in these matters. He had another technique that he used in such cases, on which invariably reduced the proudest slave to complete submission. He had no doubt it would be just as successful with the former Mrs. Olivia Addison, who now went under the name of Bitch.
Chapter Five
Two of the silent female servants fetched the naked Elenora from her room the next morning, and took her back to the same place in the basement where she had been the previous day. They again utterly ignored her attempts to make conversation, and did not even speak to each other in her presence. Before they took her inside the basement room, they locked her wrists together behind her back with handcuffs.
Caine was waiting for her inside the room, sitting in an easy chair and tapping a black riding crop in his hand. The two servants stood on either side of her, silently waiting for their orders.
“Susan, Milla, kneel down and prepare for tit discipline,” he said to the two servant girls. “Watch carefully, Elenora,” he told her. “You will see how I maintain discipline in my house.”
The two women, who looked to be in their early twenties, were both slim and attractive. Susan had long chestnut hair, and was a little taller than her companion. Milla was a strawberry blonde, with a rosy complexion. Her breasts were perhaps a trifle larger than Susan’s, but both women had fine, firm mammaries.
Without a word, both servants sank to their knees in front of the master’s chair, and lifted their breasts up towards him.
“Please, sir,” said Susan, “I humbly ask you to discipline me.”
“Master,” said Milla, “I am in need of correction. I beg you to chastise my tits.”
“Very well, I will grant your req
uests,” Caine said, rising from his chair and raising the crop high over his head.
As Elenora looked on in astonishment and distress, her master began to beat the soft, white flesh of the kneeling girls’ breasts. The blows were obviously very painful; Milla and Susan shrieked in agony and bounced up and down on the floor each time the black leather riding crop landed on their tender globes. Elenora could hardly bear to watch their suffering. And yet, they continued to hold their titties up for punishment, and neither made the slightest attempt to get away or to dodge the vicious blows.
After he had inflicted twenty strokes of the crop on the creamy white breasts of each of the submissive girls, he stopped.
“Have you received sufficient discipline to improve your service, Susan and Milla?” Caine asked.
The two women looked up at their owner with tear-filled eyes.
“Thank you, master,” said the chestnut-haired girl. “I will serve you much better in the future thanks to your fine discipline.”
The red-head said, “Your correction has improved me, as always, Master Caine. I thank you for taking the time to discipline me.”
“Good,” he said. “Then you may both go about your duties.” He gestured with the crop toward the door. The two servant girls rose, bowed to Caine and left.
He turned to Elenora, who had a horrified expression frozen on her face. “I trust that you found that instructive, my dear,” he said. “But you seemed to be puzzled. Do you have a question for me?”
“Pl… please, sir,” she stuttered. “May I ask what fault they committed that earned such a terrible punishment?”
“Why, no fault at all,” Caine responded amiably. “They did not do anything wrong. They were not being punished at all; they were simply being disciplined. Do you understand?”
She thought about it for a moment, and then shook her head. “I am sorry, sir, but I do not.”
“I’ll just have to show you, then,” he said. He pointed to a metal column set in the floor. “Kneel down in front of that, facing me. Put the back of your head against the metal.”
By Judicial Decree Page 5