“I was told that you were pretty,” he begins, laying a hand on her cheek in an act that could be construed as affectionate—it is not. “Someone lied. Your lips are too thick, your eyes too big for your body, and you’re wasting away like a disease-ridden lab rat.”
The scorn he heaps on her is only half understood by the girl, though Jacob catches it all, not in any way agreeing with his evaluation. He knows it’s likely a distortion of the truth his mentor feels. This is the way he begins the training.
“But then, we can always fatten you up, coach your eyes into submission and teach you to use your lips for what they will do best. Then we could call them an asset. Don’t you agree?”
She nods her head, looking stunned.
While Jacob finds the girl the most marvelous looking thing he’s seen in a year, the older man won’t let his feelings go that far. He does acknowledge something unique about this one. He’s curious, wondering if it is a mistake to give her to Jacob as he planned. She might fair better in his care. “Untie her,” he says.
Jacob loosens the rope and unwinds it until it falls into heap around her feet.
“So, what now?” he turns to Jacob. “What do you do with her?” He waits for his answer.
“You let her go free!” the girl shouts and she starts to bolt for the doorway. She’s exhausted, two days of travel, she moves now on adrenaline alone, which gives her an unexpected surge of power. But Jacob’s powerful hands reach out to grab her, and he hauls her under his arm, back to the chair and sets her down hard.
“You want me to tie you again? I’ll keep you bound for a month, if that’s what you want. What will it be?”
She fumes, finally spitting out, “Why am I here?”
“To do as I say,” he retorts quickly.
“But why?”
“Because this man bought you, and gave you to me until he’s ready to send you on. That’s all you need to know.”
“No. Tell me! That’s not enough!” she stammers in her thick accent.
“Too bad,” he smirks, disarming her with a sexy wit she doesn’t expect. “You have all the answers I’m giving you. Now get to you knees.”
She hesitates and looks at the dirt floor disparagingly.
He’s through with waiting and pushes her roughly himself, landing the heel of his boot in her back and pushing down so she’s practically eating dirt.
“The more you fight me, bitch, the harder this is going to be.”
The master doesn’t like Jacob’s choice of words; he is the gentleman sadist. But for now, he won’t interfere. He watches, with plans to comment later, instruct, guide, even though he knows the boy won’t change his particular style.
The girl won’t move. She’s suddenly petrified. When he winds a rope around her neck and tugs up, she feels the constriction of breath and wants to struggle; but she adapts. She must think the man is crazy.
Jacob walks around her, holding the tail of the rope like a leash. Her head is still protectively buried against the musty earth, while her ass is in the air. She was dressed in a short skirt for the final leg in her trip from . The ugly brown thing will have to go, but it does afford him easy access to her backside. He has a thing for women’s behinds, and this one is no different. As he lifts the hem of her skirt with the end of his cane, he spies the best parts, the cleft, the vital hole between her cheeks and the plump pussy tucked at the bottom of her great crevasse. He points the silver toe of his boot at that vulnerable place and runs it along the tender skin. Even in the dim light the two men can see her moist flesh as a trickle of juice escapes the succulent cunt, telegraphing her arousal.
“Fuck my boot,” he orders, as a wild vibration of lust inspires him. She starts in tentatively “Yes, grind in hard, bitch,” he says seething.
She seems inspired, as if she’s happy to oblige.
Even young Jacob is not so naïve that he believes he’s won her cooperation. Sluts do a lot of things just because it feels good, only to claw the eyes when least expected.
She gets into the act, bobbing her bare behind in the air, while her pussy suckles the leather and silver boot as if it were a toying finger.
“Do it!” he orders in clipped command. His cock is swelling inside his jeans. If only he could… he stops short of finishing the thought. No, of course, he has to wait. He even understands the reason for restraint, grudgingly agreeing with his mentor in this instance. Fuck her too soon, she expects too much.
She’s starting to get her rhythm, while desire pours from her body like rain. The humping female turns carnal, moved solely by her hot crotch and the need Jacob draws from her. Even the observant master feels her potent energy assault him, get inside and gnaw at his defenses. She’s on a high, beginning to pant, raising her head, her lips wet from licking them as if she’s asking for something to suck. “Ahummmmmm,” she hums and purrs. Her ass end sways on the boot. The master nods at his protégé.
“Enough,” Jacob declares as he pulls the boot away, and jerks her to her knees, holding the rope taut so that she has to raise her head high. “You come for my pleasure, not your own,” he tells her. The glint in his eyes is that of the scoundrel. It is her turn to be mesmerized. She brings her hand to her groin, unable to control the desire to finish off.
The cane comes down making a painful cut across the sensuous flesh. She shrieks and falls forward. “Put your hands behind your head when I’m talking to you. That understood?”
She nods as she immediately obeys his order.
“And don’t play games with me, you can speak as you’ve been told.”
“Yes, sir,” she immediately quips.
“Good. Now back to the chair, bitch, stand up, grab the seat and hold on.”
The chemistry is real and strong between them, but dangerous, the master thinks. Too much rapport will get in the way of the training. He’ll have to counsel Jacob.
The young man knows his mind, has his own vision for the girl. He’s seen her tapes, played them several times and now, firsthand, the ideas for her training multiply. Clinging to the chair like a desperate child, she offers her ass for him, and her first taste of his whip.
The simple leather single-tail can float on air, or snap like icicles on a January night. He uses both techniques, expertly, snapping the tail end on her rump, forcing it higher so he can target her thighs as well as the plump flesh at the base of her behind. He singes the skin over and over again, until he establishes a rhythm and she’s forgetting the pain. A rude snap, the snake wraps her waist, cutting. Another wraps her hip, more tender flesh suffers and she’s pulled out of the sexual pleasure. The come waits dormant inside her body. It won’t take much.
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeaough!” she practically jumps to the ceiling.
He’s read her thoughts, and chuckles to himself. He has her exactly where he wants her.
“She should be worked before an audience soon,” he states to his mentor.
“Agreed.”
The single tail continues its work, teasing, clawing, cutting, burnishing her skin while the sensation gets inside the nubile cheeks and raises the ante on her pleasure. But as often as she is about to climax, the whip knocks her from desire and registers pure pain. When he finally stops, she’s left unsatisfied.
“She’s had enough for one day,” Jacob states.
The master has seen the transformation in the young man. He redefines himself as he works the girl, as the dark power of command takes charge of him. What an awesome thing it is. He knows the feelings well. He relishes this for himself, toying with regret. There’s no mistake letting the youth take on this training, but the old man will miss the joy of it himself.
“Make her pee for you, show her no mercy,” he says, troubled and disgruntled. He leaves them, though neither the girl nor the young man notice.
Jacob stares her in the eye again as he pulls her off chair and to her knees. He tugs her to the corner of the stone cell, and prods her wit
h his boot into the small, barred space. He moves with her, removing the rope from her neck and then motions to a bucket. “It’s the only toilet we have down here. Use it now.”
“I don’t have to go,” she says.
“What was that you said?” He acts surprised.
“I don’t have to go.”
“Again!” his anger rises.
“I don’t have to go, sir!” she remembers, emphasizing the word.
“Then just try for me. I want to see you with your ass on the can.”
She trembles at the picture of herself. Humiliation makes her blush; he makes her blush. As she crouches over the bucket, she wills her body not to pee—just to exert some opposition. But her body needs to go, and a trickle of warm pee runs down the side of her leg and into the bucket. In seconds, it turns into a strong jet as it shoots like a missile and sounds like pounding rain against the galvanized steel.
“See, I knew at least part of you wants to obey me,” Jacob gibes. “You bring the rest of your sorry self along and we’ll do just fine. Listen carefully, and do everything I tell you to. There’s no trick to that.”
The loose rope becomes her second jailer, wrapping her wrists this time and attaching to the iron rail at the top of her bed.
“Why?” she implores him.
He ignores her.
“Why, sir!” she calls to him as he leaves her cell.
“Because you don’t come unless I tell you to and I can’t watch you every minute.”
Later, not much later, the two men sit in the kitchen eating dinner, monitoring the girl’s activity by hidden camera. They watch, and even listen to the sound of her moaning softly in the midst of playing with herself. She’s rocking back and forth in a wild ecstasy, rubbing her thighs together, pressing her ass into the bare mattress, fishing desperately for the switch that gives her what she wants. When she realizes that there’s enough slack in the binding to allow her to turn over, she awkwardly straddles the edge of the cot, rubbing her crotch into the rough tick. She has all she needs, stimulation enough to climax.
“Ah, ah, ah, yes, yes, yes,” she cries softly. She breathes heavily and pants harder. Does she mock them? Is this defiance, or just pure need driving her?
“You have a decent challenge for yourself here, Jacob.”
“One helluva slut,” he agrees with his mentor.
“Watch that language,” the man warns. “She may be all that you describe with that word, but I’d rather you speak more respectfully, contain that kind of crude talk.”
Jacob shakes his head. “You know, you are one piece of work.”
His mentor doesn’t understand.
“You get off debasing women and then turn around and pretend to be a gentleman. I can do a lot of things, but I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Well then, try for me, will you, Jacob?” he says crisply. “It’s the way I am. And this is my ranch.”
“Yes, sir,” he says what he has to say to appease the man. He wants back in the cellar with the new girl. She is special and they both know it.
***
“I want her prepared to serve the evening meal tomorrow night. There will be twelve for dinner, formal. She’ll wear the usual serving attire.” They are in his study going over plans for Evie, while considering that several other new girls are scheduled to arrive within a day or two.
“Won’t that be a little soon, sir?” Jacob asks, apprehensively.
“She’s a smart girl. She can put her wits to the challenge. I expect a decent performance, if not perfect. Besides, I have other motives in mind. It will be the appropriate occasion to publicly punish her late night indiscretions.”
“I thought her punishment was my province?”
“So it is,” he says, voice clipped, “and you’ll be the one doing the dirty work. Trust me, she needs to be brought up short, and quickly, or like the stallion, she’ll get away from you too fast to catch.” Message delivered, he turns on his heel and strides out of the room.
Jacob pulls the blue-eyed, blonde-haired Evie from her room into the training quarters bathroom, thrusting his prize into a cold shower. It feels like nails to the surface of her skin. She shrieks and tries to back out, but he pushes her forward, getting himself almost as wet as the naked girl.
“Soap yourself, wash your hair and maybe I’ll let you soak in a warm tub,” he says as he closes the shower stall.
He stands guard, watching through the glass as the shivering Evie eyes him like a sad refugee. She finally soaps herself, runs water through her hair and opens the door with the cold rain pouring off her body.
“Turn off the water,” he orders.
She answers him robot-like, but then instantly warms as he throws a thick terry towel over her slight form and rubs her down.
He would like to punish her now for orgasming on the bedrail the night before. He feels the need inside his bones, a requirement so compelling that he finally bends her over the punishment rail in the training room and gives her bottom six cuts of a cane. He attaches the act to no specific event, which seems wrong. But it would undermine the authority of their common effort, to dilute the effect of a surprise revelation, if he were to disclose the existence of the surveillance camera now. He knows that there are unwritten constraints placed on him in this matter, which he hadn’t expected, but at least until the dinner party, the girl is his to prepare and to train.
“You’ll be serving this master and his household as a serving maid tomorrow at dinner. Is this something you’ve done before?” he asks.
“No, sir,” she says.
“Then watch carefully and follow every instruction.”
“Yes, sir.”
She seems surprisingly docile. But he knows that is just because she is uncertain. Beneath her calm, he can sense the rumbling rage and even the fear certain to be holding her mind and responses captive.
He shows her how to stand, poised with her hands behind her. “Look soft, graceful, demure. You understand?”
“Like this, sir,” she says, striking a relaxed and modest pose, meek and servile, her eyes wide open but alluring, her lips softly inviting, her body exceedingly sensuous, glowing from within. She makes his body rumble from his gut. He wants her now, but there are constraints about that too—guidelines become law, imposed from the mentor who knows the perfect way to train a woman in servitude.
“Perfect,” Jacob tells her.
“It’s how we pose at the detention center if we want to please the magistrates. If we don’t want to get in trouble,” she says with a quirky, teasing smile. “This place is a lot like that.”
“You don’t say?” Jacob replies.
“Looks different, but it’s the same. Same kind of people. You’re all the same.”
Of course, they are all the same. Jacob knows this, but he doesn’t like it pointed out to him so bluntly. He’d like to think the ranch is a different kind of place from the common institution, a training ground not a warehouse.
“You’re probably right. But you’ll do things here you won’t do anywhere else.”
“Yeah, sure. And I follow the rules, you won’t hurt me.”
“I won’t permanently hurt you regardless. You’re useless to me damaged.”
She smiles, behind it a knowing cunning smirk. A little defiant, like she understands the game all too well. He wonders who taught her. So young, so wise, all at the same time.
“So, you know how to stand. Speaking—don’t unless you’re asked a direct question. When you answer, be polite, brief, put a ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ at the beginning or the end. Assume that there is no one on this ranch of lower rank than you. Be humble. We think of you no more highly than we do the barn animals. Get too uppity, you’ll be boarding with them. Got that?”
“Yes, sir.” She even effects a simple curtsy. She disavows any formal training, and yet she gets her information from somewhere. TV? Movies?
“As it is, we’re lea
ping forward here a few weeks, giving you the kind of privilege you’re getting tomorrow night. Consider it an honor to serve the master on this kind of occasion. Screw it up, girl? You’ll be knee deep in horse shit within minutes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Is she just a natural, or good at the game? Maybe there’s no difference.
Jacob leaves her to the kitchen for the remainder of the morning, where she takes instructions in proper etiquette from Marmy and Josette—the regular downstairs maid. She learns how to set the table, how to serve the meal, remove the dishes and stand demurely on the sidelines waiting for further instructions. She learns quickly and asks few questions, as if she innately understands what is expected of her. She is even fitted with her costume, beginning with a heavily boned corset Josette binds about her torso until she can barely breathe. Of course, Josette has her ulterior motives for the tighter than necessary corsetry. This new girl eclipses her at this important dinner party. If she has her way, the senior trainee will hold this raw recruit to as stringent a standard as she has to practice. She’ll make it painful, with plenty of scornful gazes and a tongue-lashing or two for good measure—in private of course, away from the ear of the master and his protégé. Her fifteen months in captivity have taught her several important things—survival of the fittest, smartest and the cleverest. She’s had her sights set on Jacob for sometime and would claw out the eyes of any girl who got in her way—if not literally, at least figuratively.
“You don’t think that is too tight?” Jacob asks the veteran maid.
“Of course not, she’s playing the wimp, if you ask me. Besides, you have to give her a little extra if you want the girl to show any kind of alluring flesh. All that skin and bones?”
“Not something we have to worry about with you now, do we?” Jacob chides her.
Josette blushes, suddenly self-conscious of her large bosom and plump behind—what she thinks of as assets—perfect for punishment and the eyes of a voyeur, at least until a girl like this one shows up—round-eyed, blue-eyed, pert, glib, sassy and almost unsafely young.
The Seller, Buyer, Girl and Her Master Page 5