by Jesse Jordan
I can't help it, the idea makes me whimper in need, and Rodrigo nods knowingly. “First, let's get some breakfast, and then this afternoon... we're going to need to catch up on the training that we can only do together. So make breakfast big, and lunch light.”
I do exactly as Rodrigo says, setting the plates of polenta, ham and fruit down in twenty minutes while Rodrigo watches, reading a book casually while I work. After I sit down, I notice the book, and I can't help it, I'm jealous a little. Rodrigo notices. “Are you into historical fiction, Jessica?”
“Not really sir. I just... forgive me,” I say, remembering my training and picking up my fork and knife to cut my ham. Rodrigo though reaches out, putting his hand over mine.
“No, go on. What troubles you?”
I swallow, setting down my fork and look at him. “I'm sorry sir, but being in my room... there's a lot of hours to fill, and not a lot to fill them. Larissa explained it to me at one point, the idea is to give me clarity of purpose, to allow me to focus. But....”
“But you'd still like to have a bit more entertainment,” Rodrigo says, and I nod. “We'll see. You've made remarkable progress the past few weeks apparently.”
After breakfast, I clean the kitchen while Rodrigo does the dining room. It's actually one of my favorite things to do in my daily duties, because whenever Rodrigo's been here, he hasn't shirked in sharing the burden with me. We also do the laundry, hanging it outside in the courtyard to dry in the sun before lunch, which I can barely touch I'm filled with so many nerves. Rodrigo watches me, his face filled with amusement and anticipation. “Jessica, are you looking forward to training with me?”
My throat is suddenly dry, and I can only nod, looking down at my vegetable soup. Since starting lunch my nipples have been aching inside my bra, and my panties feel like they've been chafing me in the most pleasant way, my stomach fluttering like I would... like I would before a date.
Rodrigo reassures me as he picks up his spoon and takes another sip of his soup. “Me too. The past two weeks have been as difficult for me as they've been for you. Before we begin, I'm going to ask you... are you ready to call me your Master?”
I gulp, shaking my head. I want to... but I'm too scared, too frightened by what that means. “No sir. My body wants it, but... no, I'm not ready.”
“That's fine,” Rodrigo says, smirking in assurance. “You will be eventually. Let's begin.”
When we get to the training room, I see something different, a sort of padded bench that my mind says belongs in a gym more than a bondage room, but I still take off my clothes, touched when Rodrigo turns on a heater. “Last time, I left you in the cold for too long. You didn't complain though, but still... this is to open up our bodies more. Now, bend over the bench on this side and reach out your arms.”
I do as ordered, and Rodrigo takes the silk cord from the shelf and ties them to knobs on the underside of the foldable bed before bringing them to me and wrapping them around my wrists but not tying them.
“Grab here,” he instructs, his voice commanding but still sensual. I take hold, and he nods. “Good. The rule today is simple. No matter what, unless you use your safe word, you're not to let go of these cords. You remember your safe word, yes?”
“Yes sir. Parmesan.”
Rodrigo nods, reaching underneath me to fondle and tease my right breast a little, flicking the nipple playfully when I gasp, but my hands don't let go of the cords. “Very good. Now, spread your legs and put your feet next to the braces on the stand.”
I obey... it feels good to even think those words, I obey. Rodrigo ties my ankles to the metal legs of the stand and I'm exposed. I can feel my hips pressed upward by the padded bench, my pussy and ass exposed to him even as my breasts hang, full and heavy while the blood starts to rush to my head. Rodrigo goes over to the closet and takes off his shirt, leaving him in just his shoes and his pants as he goes over to the shelf and takes off something, bringing it over.
“These will stimulate you with every movement,” he says, holding them in front of my face. “Do you know what ben wa balls are?”
I look at the metallic golden balls, maybe about an inch wide, joined by a cord of some sort, and shake my head. “No sir.”
“Open your pussy, and I'll slip them inside you,” Rodrigo says, standing up. His hand trails down my spine as he does, sending shivers of pleasure through me as he reaches my waist before reversing, stroking back up. He caresses my back again, rubbing my ass at the end and encouraging me to open my pussy to him. “Very good, my pet.”
His words, so offensive less than a month ago, make me whimper in anticipation as he slips the balls into my rapidly moistening pussy. They're cold at first, but warm inside my body, filling me. I'm shocked and trembling when I go to move, and the balls shift inside me, rubbing my pussy and sending my nerves into pulses of pleasure. “Oh god...”
“Keep them inside you, or else,” Rodrigo warns, massaging my ass and making the balls shift more. It's like a slow speed deep vibrator almost, and my eyes are already rolling back into my head as I feel them twist around each other inside my tunnel. “Next is the clamps.”
“Sir... oh fuck...,” I moan as I think of what's next. I've never had them before, but I've fantasized about them, and feeling Rodrigo twist the adjustment knob around my nipples, tightening them until the pain is hot and fiery but mixing with the pleasure leaves me aching, gasping at each breath as the metal chain in between them sways and pulls at my breasts. “Sir....”
“Yes, my pet?” Rodrigo asks playfully, squatting next to my head so that I can look at him. His torso's starting to develop a little sheen of sweat, and I'm aware for the first time how warm the heater he's turned on has made the room. “Do you have something you want to say to me?”
“It feels so good,” I moan. “No... no word.”
“Good. Now I'm getting my riding crop, and I'm going to use it on you. Not hard, but enough that you'll be moved by it. If you let go of the ropes, or if you come before I reach one hundred strokes of my crop, you'll be punished. Do you understand me?” he asks, his voice warm and sensual. “If you last to one hundred, then you can come as hard as you want. Last chance for safe word. Or the other.”
“No sir,” I grit out between clenched teeth, focusing on holding my hands as tightly as possible while Rodrigo chuckles, stroking my hair. He hasn't told me what my punishment is if I let go of the cords... but it doesn't matter, I'm going to make it.
“You're so beautiful, Jessica. I actually hope you make it to one hundred. Tell me, honestly... do you think this arouses me too?” he asks, and I turn my head to him, nodding. “You want to see my cock, don't you?”
“Yes sir,” I moan, the image making my pussy twitch, the balls inside rolling over each other and sending more sparks flying through my body. “But I won't say it.”
“A dare, huh?” Rodrigo says playfully before smiling. “I'm glad to see that Larissa's training hasn't broken your spirit. I don't want breakage, I want submission. Total and complete submission.”
I lower my head, nodding that I understand as Rodrigo gets up and goes to the wall, selecting a light riding crop. “This won't cause damage, just a sting,” he reassures me, swinging the crop. It whistles through the air, but doesn't make any sort of cracking sound as it comes to a stop. “Count them out.”
“One,” I say, and Rodrigo swings, not hard I can tell, but still the leather smacking against my back makes me jump, the motion sending more pleasure tearing through me as the ben wa balls in my pussy and the chain on the nipple clamps both move, electric blue pleasure rippling up and down my body. My eyes shoot open and I gasp, moaning deeply as my pussy heats up more, and I wonder... I was so cocky, but really, can I even last to ten, let alone a hundred?
Still, I'm proud of what I've been able to do the past two weeks, and I'm determined to show my.... I want to show Rodrigo that I can take it. I count off each stroke of his crop on my skin, and he never strikes the same place twice as he moves up and down
my body from my knees to my shoulders and back down.
“Ten!” I whimper as he strikes my right hamstring, making my leg half buckle. The balls lurch and the chain nearly sends me over the edge, both of letting go of the ropes but also of coming. I squeeze my hands tight, gritting my teeth as I try to obey Rodrigo's command of focusing on this moment, on the sensations in my body. “Sir... please Rodrigo sir....”
“Are you giving up? Are you too weak for me?” Rodrigo chastises, his voice dropping to dangerous, dark levels, and I shake my head, focusing. I may never call him Master, but I'm not too weak for him. Never.
What follows makes the last training session feel like a warmup, and our first spanking just the tentative first steps as Rodrigo continues. At twenty, I can feel each inch of my skin, even the grip of the floor underneath my toes, and each fiber of the cords in my hands. At thirty my left hand slips, but Rodrigo's wrapping of the cord around my wrist saves me, I'm able to retake my grip before it falls. Forty, fifty, sixty lashes, and my body is washed in pleasure and pain, my skin burning even as my nipples and pussy send ecstasy rolling through my body. My words become little more than gasping grunts, and I can hear the sweat roll down Rodrigo's chest and stomach as he moves around me, striking my ass, my back, my sides.
I should feel worthless, but I don't. With each stinging strike of his crop, I feel instead liberated, stronger. The old me, the one that was worried about student loans and whether I could afford to get the fellowship I wanted is being burned away in the heat of the crop on my back before being washed away in the pleasure that my breasts and pussy are sending through me. At ninety I feel superhuman, grateful to Rodrigo for showing me this part of me, and all I want to do is focus for the next ten strokes so that I can show him that I'm a good girl, deserving and worthy of his cock and his attention.
“Ninety eight,” I gasp in my newfound voice, my body trembling on the edge. The cords are literally shaking, my biceps iron hard I'm pulling on them so hard to keep my grip, and Rodrigo's strike is against my right shoulder. I barely feel it, but still my breasts quiver, the ben wa balls keep up their maddening movements in my pussy, but I can make it. Two more.
“Ninety nine!” I say before the next one, which cracks hard off my ass. I love it, and I barely feel anything as I look forward for the release of the next, final stroke.
“Who do you belong to?” Rodrigo asks suddenly, his heat behind me, his voice deep and powerful. “Are you mine?”
“Yes sir...,” I moan happily, trembling on the edge of total submission. The time for him isn't quite right yet... but it's almost. Rodrigo hums, and I can feel his desire.
“Then... one hundred.”
The crop whistles through the air, scaring me for an instant before it stops, barely slapping between my legs against my clit, and I'm sent hurtling through space, shattered into a million pieces as I come. I'm everywhere, I'm everything, pure joy and pleasure as I want to call out the word he says will bring me even more of this forever and ever, but I can't, I can't breathe. I'm coming too hard, I can't feel anything in my body at all as the whiteness of my orgasm fades to gray, then blackness.
When I come to, I'm in my room, but things feel different. First off I'm warmer, and I realize that I'm in a pair of satin pajamas underneath a thick comforter. I sigh happily, I must have pleased him very much... but where is he? “Rodrigo?”
The door to my room opens, and Larissa comes in, holding a small camp stool that she puts next to my mattress and then sits down. That's strange.... wait, my mattress is different too, thicker I think. “Larissa?”
“Rodrigo had business to take care of at The Farm,” she says, amusement in her voice. “How do the new clothes feel?”
“Amazing,” I moan happily, before realizing that I should sit up, Larissa is still in The Network and my Rodrigo's peer. Wait, my Rodrigo? I quickly assume my kneeling position, but Larissa waves me off.
“Relax, Jessica. You've earned a little bit of self pampering. I wasn't here when you got started, but I got to watch him carry your unconscious body back here, and I helped him get you arranged. I'm glad he had an extra set of silk pajamas. Actually, I don't think he wears pajamas at all, probably why he had a spare set,” Larissa says. “So... how was it?”
“I've never felt anything like it in my life,” I admit honestly. “Uhm... thank you.”
“For what?” she asks, and I hum, pulling the big comforter up around my neck more.
“If you hadn't worked with me the past two weeks, there's no way that I'd have been able to do it.”
Larissa smiles, nodding. “An honest and heart felt thank you. That's a sign of class that most people never quite get the hang of. I accept. So did you submit?”
“No!” I deny vehemently, then shiver. “I... I was close though.”
“I bet you were,” Larissa says with a chuckle. “Jessica, there's nothing wrong with submitting to him.”
“You say that, but I'm still.... Larissa, I've been held here for a month almost, and the only two people I've seen in that whole time are you and Rodrigo. What if this is just me getting broken down psychologically? What if I'm just getting brainwashed?” I plead. “I mean, you two are criminals.”
Larissa isn't offended, and in fact laughs. “You've finally found the guts to call me what I am without saying it like I'm a piece of shit? You are getting stronger. But I'm mostly laughing because of your worries. Let me ask you Jessica... in the past month, has Rodrigo ever called you worthless?”
“Well, that first few days he was angry at me a lot. And in the first couple of days, he called me bitch a few times,” I admit. “But... well, I think I was being bitchy.”
Larissa snickers, nodding. “We all can be. So, honest question, do you feel like you're being brainwashed? Forced into a way of thinking you don't really want? Sure, your physical freedom is restricted, but has Rodrigo or I ever punished you for your thoughts, instead of your actions?”
“No,” I say firmly. “I've never been punished for my thoughts. Just corrected for my actions.”
Larissa nods, lifting an eyebrow. “So... in helping you find your strength, you're also finding that you want to choose. Jessica, you're close to submitting to Rodrigo because you want to submit to him, that's all. I'll give you some time to think about it while I go get dinner prepared for you. Nothing complex, he's the cook, I can barely make a halfway edible sandwich. Unfortunately, Rodrigo's business will take him long into the night, knowing what it is. I'll be back in about an hour. Until then, relax, recover, and one other thing.”
“What's that?” I ask, and Larissa chuckles. What she's saying is total bullshit, isn't it? But she's making a lot of sense, and I wonder, am I really ready to submit more than physically?
“Rejoice in your strength.”
I'm so fucking confused.
Rodrigo
The stationary shop is small, but it has exactly what I'm looking for. I know that I'm supposed to be at The Farm in twenty minutes, but for some reason I had to stop here in downtown Caccamo at this store, darting inside fifteen minutes before they close.
The drawing tablet isn't that big, in fact it's specifically designed so that the aspiring artist can keep it in a regular backpack, so it's just a little smaller than your average notebook, but the paper is rich and creamy, a real artist's set of papers. It's thick too, a hundred sheets which should give Jessica plenty to work with. I pick it out before going to the front, where the shopkeeper is giving me a wary look. “Anything else, signore?”
“Yes,” I admit, looking around. “I don't know what a good set of pencils for drawing looks like. Can you please put in a set of black pencils and a set of colors that would go well with this paper? I don't really know anything about those.”
“Of course signore,” the shopkeeper says, smiling. “This is a gift?”
“Something like that,” I admit. The shopkeeper smiles and selects an all in one kit almost the same size as the notebook, with four different bl
ack pencils, twenty different colors, a sharpener and two erasers. He rings it up, then to my surprise wraps it quickly in tissue paper.
“I can see in your eyes, this is for a pretty girl. Enjoy.”
The rest of the drive to The Farm, I keep glancing at the wrapped package, wondering what the fuck made me stop to buy the set. I could have given Jessica a simple ream of printer paper and plain pencil from my home office, or one of the books in my library. Why'd I stop to purchase her a set of pencils and a sketch book that was nearly sixty euro total? The money's not important, sixty euro is pocket change... but still, why'd I do it?
I park at The Farm and get out, putting the question out of my mind for a while. Thankfully, I don't have as many personal issues about the shipment that's coming through The Farm tonight, The Sultan's beginning to gather weapons from The Network and transporting them again to the Middle East for a big shipment as soon as he can arrange the buyer. It's mostly small arms, but as I walk into the mostly deserted warehouse that is also the slave pens, I'm surprised by three crates that are stacked in the middle. “What's this?”
Leon, who I've come to understand has been promoted to about the same role for The Sultan that I play for Scoglitti, pats the top crate happily. He's one of the two men in here besides me, and I can tell from the way he's looking at the crates he's proud of his work. “British Starstreak-B surface to air missiles. Small, high speed, and can be mounted on the back of a pickup truck very easily. Four launchers with ten missiles each. You're looking at a three million dollars right here.”
“Impressive,” I comment as my blood runs cold. Surface to air missiles? The Sultan's getting into some pretty pricey shit, and the pricier it gets, the more dangerous it gets. “That just came in?”
“Today,” Leon says, smirking. “We will be making quite a profit this trip.”
“Good, after the last one ran into trouble,” I comment, looking over the rest. There's a crate of AK-74's, nothing that impressive, some radio equipment, and then something that stops my heart. “Wait... pills?”