by Linnea May
“Well,” I say, getting up from the bed. “You may have an idea of what this is going to look like, but I will explain it to you anyway. Get up from the bed.”
As she follows my command, I walk over to the dresser next to the bed, opening one of the upper drawers. Everything in here, even the drawers in this dresser, can only be opened with keys that I possess. She’s not supposed to have access to the toys I will be using; it’s better that way. She’s going to get addicted to the thrill I give her, the pain and the orgasms, but I want to own every single one of them. She’s not allowed to do anything to herself and not to try anything without me present.
I retrieve what I was looking for and bring a black leather leash with me when I return to her. Much to my surprise, she’s standing next to the bed, still naked, not even attempting to wrap the towel around her.
“Good girl,” I say to her, even though her look suggests that she doesn’t understand what I’m praising her for.
“Now, get down on your knees,” I add, pointing to the floor right next to my feet. “Sit on your heels, hands on your thighs.”
She pauses for a moment, giving me a look as if to say that there’s no way in hell that she’s obeying my words. But she doesn’t need more than a raised eyebrow to be reminded of her place. She kneels in front of me, placing her hands on her thighs, but not in the way I want her to.
“Palms up,” I say. “And straighten your back. Look up at me.”
She sighs and even though I cannot see it, I’m sure she’s rolling her eyes at me before she lifts her chin and meets my eyes.
“Better,” I say. “Not good, but better. Stay like this, but open your legs for me.”
She sneers at me through narrowed eyes, but obliges and moves her knees apart.
“Good,” I conclude. “Remember this position. I want to see you like this every time I walk into the room, and every time I tell you to kneel. Understand?”
She nods. “Yeah.”
A bolt of fury races through my chest. Is she really that forgetful, or do my words mean nothing to her?
“What have I told you to?” I snap at her. “How are you to reply to me?”
She sighs again. “Yes, Master.”
“All that forgetting and sighing won’t be ignored,” I warn her. “You better watch yourself.”
She presses her lips together, most likely to keep herself from retorting with a sassy response. Her eyes follow me as I drop down onto my knees in front of her and attach the leash to the ring on her collar.
“Every pet needs a leash,” I say. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Her eyes are piercing, dazed with anger and worry. She’s angry but alert at the same time, sensing my fury. She may not fear me in the same way she did when I first brought her here, but she has an idea of the beast existing inside of me. She knows I don’t want to hurt her, but she knows that I will if she gives me a reason.
And she has given me plenty.
Chapter 18
Liana
He’s clasping the other end of the leather leash in his hand, hovering next to me like a possessive dog owner. It’s humiliating and degrading, but I find myself yielding to the role more easily than I would have imagined. This role play was embedded in the crevices of my darkest fantasies, a collar, a leash, a handsome man using me for his pleasure and rewarding me with bliss in return. It’s scary how much of this closely resembles the images that have been haunting me for years. Images that I tried to bring to life in my failed relationship with Luke, who only considered my fantasies to be psychotic. He said I was disgusting and sick, and I let him believe he was right.
Now here I am, coerced to be someone I always wanted to be, stripped away of everything I was in the real world outside of this gilded cage, my core still throbbing from the most intense orgasm I have ever experienced.
This could be perfect, if I knew I could go home tonight and return to my normal life.
My normal life. The life that was robbed of everything that was good in the days leading up to this terrifying event. It’s a Saturday morning and I have nowhere to be, no one waiting for me, no one wondering where I am. No one will miss me until Monday, when I’m supposed to show up for work at the university. They will notice I’m gone, but I’m not sure they will be worried about it… definitely not worried enough to search for me.
Sadness overcomes me when I realize there really is no one else. I haven’t spoken to my mother in years. She will only hear about my disappearance once the police get involved, if then. How long will that take? Days? A week? Two? Will Luke realize I’ve fallen off the radar? He and I haven’t spoken a single word since I threw him out of the apartment nearly a week ago, and I see no reason for him to contact me at this point.
Two days, at least, maybe three, that’s how long it will take until someone becomes suspicious that I’m no longer where I’m supposed to be. Will I still be here then? Will I still be alive?
“Are you hungry?” the man I’m supposed to call Master asks, jarring me away from my depressing thoughts.
I am hungry, but I don’t want to admit it to him. Judging by the light streaming in through the window, I’m assuming it’s still early morning. I only had a light dinner before leaving the house last night. The last thing I consumed was that cheap drink at the bar last night.
“I’m thirsty,” I tell him, not admitting my hunger. My thirst is far worse than my hunger.
“I imagine you are,” he says. “And I’ll give you some water in a minute. But food is a different story. You’ll have to earn food. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master,” I say, ignoring the silly sensation of pride in regard to my obedience.
Silence stretches between us. He looks at me with a questioning face and I reciprocate the look.
“You don’t want to know how?” he asks. “What it is you have to do for food?”
“I’d like to know a lot of things,” I hiss back at him. “Food is the least of my concerns.”
He narrows his eyes, and before I can fully grasp the meaning of his expression, he yanks on the leash, choking me and forcing me forward. I lose hold of my stance as I have to support myself with my hands on the floor. I’m coughing and gasping, caught by surprise and trying to process the pain in my throat.
I almost fall over when I try to reach for my burning throat, and he yanks the leash again, now pulling me behind him as he drags me across the room. I’m forced to follow him on all fours, humiliated and furious.
He heads for the other door, unlocking it and kicking it open. He continues dragging me behind him as he walks through into another room. The interior of this room couldn’t be more different than the bedroom we were in before. The floor I’m crawling on is wooden and creaks, similar to the floor in the attic, but it’s a darker color. It’s painted in black, and the four walls surrounding us are painted in a deep red.
I freeze when I see a giant X-shaped piece of equipment nailed to the wall opposite the windows. I know it’s meant for tying people up, submitting them to the mercy of another. The X is not the only thing that catches my attention. The entire room is filled with furniture and objects that aren’t typically part of a welcoming living room, but instead belong in a torture chamber. There’s a bench in the middle of the room. It looks a bit like one of those sawhorses found in the school gym, except for its black color and the shackles attached to it.
A glass cabinet at the other end of the room displays all kinds of toys and utensils, whips, cuffs, floggers, canes, and other things that I cannot identify.
He watches me as I take in the room and its trappings, an expression somewhere between horror and fascination evident on my face.
“You asked me what I’m going to do to you,” he says. “This may give you an idea.”
I take in the volume of toys and utensils on display in the room. I feel a small sense of relief when I don’t see any knives or similar tools that might be used to kill or maim me.
“You’re
a sadist,” I say, looking up at him with frightened eyes. “Are you going to kill me?”
He furrows his eyebrows. “Let’s not go overboard.”
Another yank at the leash forces me to follow him the length of the room until we reach the cross.
“Stand up,” he commands.
I swallow hard, unsure whether to happy to be back on my feet, or worried about what he might do next.
Chapter 19
Joseph
I didn’t like that last question. Am I going to kill her? Why would she say something like that?
She looks tense and nervous, back to the frightened young girl, the one I tried to get rid of by making her come on my fingers.
“Does this scare you?” I ask her.
She nods. “Yes.”
Again, she forgets to address me properly. I’m about to lose my patience with her.
“Good,” I say. “It’s supposed to scare you, because this is where most of your training will take place.”
She looks up at me, her eyes now filled with bewilderment. “Training?”
“Your punishment,” I clarify. “Your training is ongoing, there’s no physical place for it. But this is where you’ll be punished.”
I pull on her leash, forcing her to come closer to me. She follows the motion, grimacing in pain as the collar cuts harshly into her throat. Her breathing speeds up when I lean forward, placing my mouth so close to her ear that her wet hair dances in the current of my breath.
“I’ll whip you, cane you, spank you, tie you up, and force you to come again and again,” I whisper, relishing the heat that radiates from her cheeks. “And you’ll love every second of it.”
She doesn’t have to agree or even say anything. It’s all clearly written on her face when I retreat back a couple of steps to look at her. Her mouth is partly opened, as if she’s about to speak, but no words escape her lips. She looks up at me, her cheeks burning red.
“What do I have to do?” she finally asks. “To get food?”
I raise my eyebrows, giving her a chance to correct herself.
And this time, she notices her mistake all on her own.
“Master,” she adds. “What does my Master want from me?”
I smile at her. “Good girl.”
It unnerves me that she’s flinching away from my touch when I lift my hand to caress her pink cheek.
Time. She needs time, more than any of the others needed. There’s no way for me to direct her behavior other than through the training methods laid out in the contract. I can’t tell her to tone it down, I can’t tell her to be more open to the task she signed up for, and I can’t tell her to be less afraid. Maybe she’s not even acting afraid, maybe it’s the real deal. Maybe she really is this afraid because she didn’t understand what she was really getting herself into.
“I want you to accept your first punishment,” I tell her. “For the many transgressions you’ve incurred so far.”
She bites her lower lip. “I thought the attic was my first punishment.”
I smile. Touché, little Ruby.
“Yes, you’re right,” I agree. “That was your first punishment. But there have been so many other breaches since I let you out of there, one punishment wouldn’t come close to making it right.”
She furrows her eyebrows, trying to recall the mistakes I’m talking about.
“You forgot to address me properly, many times, you’ve talked back, you haven’t answered simple questions, you’ve refused to follow commands,” I explain. “Shall I go on?”
Ruby shakes her head, rolling her eyes at me again, this time in clear sight.
“And that,” I say, pointing at her eyes. “Rolling your eyes at me is one of the worst offenses. If I was you, I’d cut that one out immediately.”
She presses her lips together and nods. “Yes, Master.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I add. “Since you’re new, I’ll be gentle. One punishment to even the score and set you back to zero. Does that sound fair?”
She hesitates, her eyes scanning the room, pausing at the glass cabinet, as she ponders her response.
“I guess so,” she finally replies, adding another blow to her punishment. “What are you thinking?”
She says it as if there’s any room for negotiation. Cute.
“We’ll start slowly. I’ll tie you up to this,” I say, placing my hand on the St. Andrews Cross that we’re standing next to. “And I’ll spank you. I will only use my hands.”
She inhales audibly, her face unreadable when she turns to look at me. Instead of saying a word, she turns her back to me and places herself the way she thinks I want to see her, spreading her legs to put her ankles into the shackles, and then doing the same with her arms.
What a good girl.
I fasten the shackles around her ankles and wrists, and take a step back to admire her. She’s rather slim, but has a perfectly curvy ass that will feel soft beneath my hands. When I approach her, she flinches, burying her face against the cross and closing her eyes. I don’t know if her flinching is due to the anticipation of the pain I will inflict on her, or because she cannot stand to be touched by me in general. If it’s the latter, it will take a lot longer before we can proceed to actual playing. I’m not fucking a woman who doesn’t want me to claim her, ever.
“Eighteen,” I say. “That’s how many slaps you have coming, nine on each side, and you’ll count each one of them. Understand?”
“Yes, Master.”
There’s no hesitation this time. Her response follows as quickly and obediently as I expect it to.
I stand right next to her, my right hand caressing her pale ass cheek. It will change color once I’m done with her, maybe even leave a mark that she can enjoy for more than a few hours.
“One!” she exclaims after I release the first blow on her ass. I’m starting out slowly, only giving her a taste of what is to come, but even at the second and third strike, she’s already screaming as if the pain may be too much for her to handle.
However, I know she can handle more, way more. She’ll be surprised by how much she’s able to withstand.
“Six!”
It’s the first one that’s accompanied with an actual cry. Her ass cheeks are starting to change color, now glowing in a beautiful pink. I change the location of impact ever so slightly with every fresh slap against her skin. Like an artist drawing his picture, her ass is my canvas, my hand a violent brush, awakening the blood inside her.
“Ten!”
She’s trembling now, her wrist yanking against their constraints while she processes the pain. Her screams are changing, every one sings to a different melody, adding another level of pain and desperation - and lust. Her mind is drifting, moving to a place that might be new to her. It’s apparent in her voice when she yells out “Thirteen!” with a groan that could be an orgasm just as easily as it could be a cry of tremendous pain.
Tiny pearls of sweat are glistening on the small of her back. Her entire body is tense, trembling under a blissful tremor, and I don’t wait to unleash fourteen, fifteen and sixteen on her.
“Only two left,” I tell her. “Let’s make them count.”
She moans an unintelligible reply. Her shrieks during the last two blows are nothing short of a beautiful song, only meant for my ears, the grand finale being her sobbing in relief as she realizes that her ordeal is over.
Chapter 20
Liana
What is this? Pain, that’s for sure. I never knew that it was possible to inflict this amount of pain with just a hand, a simple slap on the ass, a spanking. How something so silly can hurt this badly?
I’m feeling as if I’ve broken a fever. My entire body is burning and shaking, while sweat is running down my back. My cheeks are glowing and I feel dizzy and confused. When I can feel the touch of his hand on my ass again, I jerk away from him. His touch is gentle, barely touching my tortured skin as he caresses the curve of my ass, but the contact still sends a burning pain si
zzling through me, every nerve ending on fire.
“You did very good,” he whispers in my ear, while his hand rests softly, gently, against the heat of my skin.
I’m panting as if I’d just finished running a marathon, and I feel equally exhausted.
And so fucking turned on.
My mind feels foggy, thinking only of one thing. I want more. I want – no need – more of him. I need him inside of me.
“Look at me,” his voice commands me from the left side of my body.
I obey and turn my face to him, my eyes only opened halfway when they meet his. He’s fixating on me, his gaze earnest and concentrated, as if he’s searching for something in my expression.
My legs spread from being tied against the cross, so it’s easy for him to take advantage of my exposure, as his hand wanders lower, finding the spot between my legs that tells him everything he wants to know.
I moan when he reaches my pulsating core, gently parting my lips before he slides one finger inside. His arm is pressing against the abused skin on my ass, sending little bolts of pain through my center that mix deliciously with my arousal.
“What a slutty good girl,” he whispers, his face still close to mine. “This was supposed to be a punishment. How come your pussy is drooling all over my hand right now?”
I don’t know, I want to say. I really don’t know.
“Did you enjoy this?” he wants to know.
I groan as he starts playing with my clit, picking up on my agitation and laying havoc with it. I know I could come like this, but I don’t want to.
And I’m not sure if he wants me to.
“You did like it, didn’t you?” he says, continuing his assessment. “I guess I was too nice to you.”
I shake my head, still robbed of words. ‘Nice’ is not a word I would use for what he just did to me; it was quite the opposite, actually. The spanking hurt more than I expected. I feared every single blow more than the one before. They grew in intensity and in the level of pain. As my skin was becoming more sensitive to the torture, he only increased the impact.