Little Savage

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “You playing for my sympathy?”

  “No, sir!”

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” The question was strictly rhetorical and she knew that. As he continued the intermittent pressure on the chain with his left hand, he used his right to fondle her pussy. Her wet cunt gushed all over his hand and he could feel her body start to spasm. He immediately withdrew his fingers and forced them into her mouth. “Suck them dry!” She knew the drill. He let up on the chain and fondled her more, bringing her to the brink of a climax and stopping just as her crotch was riding his hand to a powerful explosion. “You come without my permission, slut, and this will be all the dungeon time you’ll ever get from me.” This was a serious threat to a sub so needy. “And don’t bother to ask for it. I don’t play that game. You come when I tell you or not at all.”

  He brought her to the brink one more time and backed off in the same callous way, watching as she forced herself back to earth.

  Content that she was in the frame of mind he desired, he untied the ropes, pulled her from the wall and thrust her over the end of the sawhorse, tethering her limbs to the four legs, while her torso rested on the scratchy blanket. Another lengthy beating followed with every blow of his leather weapon centered on her ass cheeks and raising the color of her skin to a wild scarlet rash. Occasionally his aim strayed to her thighs, just to give the fleshy mounds a break, but three times he returned to spank her ass until he finally stopped. She’d moaned fitfully through the beating and though at times she might have looked desperate for it to end—her face contorting with increasing distress—the quality of her cries assured him that this was just another road to orgasm for the insatiable slave.

  She sank down against the sawhorse with relief when he finally stopped, although her ass continued to sway back and forth in such a provocative way that he couldn’t ignore the sassy allure.

  “Begging?” He took an ass cheek in his fist and squeezed.

  She breathed in, seething.

  Stepping away, he pulled an anal plug and a tube of lubricant from a muslin sack. He stood beside her so she could see him lather the plug with lube and how it glistened in the dim light. She stared at the thing with fixed eyes, looking eager and fearful at the same time. Once he moved to her rear, he massaged her anal opening for a while then inserted two fingers into the taut backdoor, working the opening until it was wide enough to suit him. With her ready, he shoved the plug into her rectum.

  She grunted once and fell silent.

  “Keep it there.” Her well-worked pussy needed just a few seconds of stimulation to be orgasmic again, but he didn’t let his fondling get that far. “You’re way too hot, girl,” he suddenly announced, and he abruptly withdrew his hand. He stalked away, moving to the far side of the cellar where he kept an old fridge. Pulling a couple of beers from inside, he sauntered back, allowing himself a moment to rest and enough time for his bound sub to retreat from her powerful arousal. He gulped the first beer down then opened the second can and took a swallow from that, too. Moving forward he splashed some in the direction of her mouth, which she greedily lapped up. Then after taking another gulp himself, he poured the rest over her body to cool it down. “If this cellar had something better than a dirt floor, it would be piss not beer.” Been a long time since he’d delivered a line like that and it felt good. Good because it was the kind of thing she wanted to hear. He liked that about her. Even if she would have hated getting pissed on, it would take her to a level of surrender that matched her desire. She was fulfilling all the promise he expected of her, unflinchingly committed to a need she knew was strong, that could not be compromised. In some ways she was still so fragile—and frightening for that reason—but about this, about her surrender, she remained admirably faithful to herself.

  He played with her again until her clamoring body was screaming to come, and she had to bear down hard to stop herself. At last he offered her some mercy and withdrew his hand.

  “Now I really do have to piss,” he announced. “You behave yourself until I get back.”

  After yanking the string on the bare lit blub, plunging the cellar into darkness once again, he abruptly left. He took a leak then cooled his heels in the upstairs for several minutes. He even made a couple phone calls before he returned to the bound waif. He knew he was too anxious, too pent-up, having deprived himself of this kind of hard scene for too many months. He could have made her wait longer, much longer if he followed his old routine, but he figured that they’d already waited long enough to take the relationship to the dungeon.

  He heard her sigh as he was coming down the stairs. Despite the lapse in time, Lisle was still hyped up, horny as a savage, and ready to come the moment he withdrew the anal plug and plunged his erection in her rear door.

  “Come as much as you want, slut,” he said, “but make it count. I want to feel you milking me and don’t let up until I’m done with you.” After the first thrust forward, she wasted no time and neither did he. He took her hard and fast, drilling her asshole as she screamed through her orgasm, and he finally allowed himself to release in one powerfully surging climax. The air was filled with their cries, growing steamy and heated as the climax peaked and finally died away.

  Then the cellar stilled.

  Once Daniel caught his breath and Lisle’s reactive body stopped spasming, he untied the ropes to free her hands and feet and allow her some room to move, although he did not let her rise. Instead, he placed a hand at her pussy and gently fingered the sensitive tissue. This set off a few more spasms, though they quickly died off. He massaged her ass with the same delicate touch as he had her pussy and found that his passion for the gentle massage was nearly as great as his passion for the beating.

  Lifting her from the sawhorse, she collapsed against his chest and he let her stay there instead of pushing her to the dirt again.

  Once her breathing eased and her heart ceased to race, he placed his palm against her lower belly where her nagging turmoil still rankled. He spoke softly, “You suspected that he was going to sell you. You had a hunch, or maybe it was even more than that. But you knew, didn’t you? You knew before you even turned on the computer what you’d find there.”

  She snuffed back tears at first, but then unable to stop them, they rolled freely down her cheeks as she peered up at his solemn face. She nodded.

  It all made sense to him now… all the files he’d found on Bauer’s computer…her unmarked body perfectly pristine for a well-paying buyer…the unsettled way they’d found her at the estate. She wouldn’t have been at Brauer’s estate when he and Marcus came to retrieve her if the sale had gone off as planned. Something had gone wrong. Something no one anticipated, and he had no idea what that something was.

  “How about you go up to my room and take a bath in the old tub?”

  She hesitated a moment, then her eyes lighted and a hopeful expression replaced the gloom. She shoved the last of her tears aside, looking beleaguered but oddly serene.

  “Go on… I’ll be up shortly.”

  Almost giggling now, she raced away. While he made a causal effort to pick up the dungeon, he listened to the sound of her footsteps on the stairs.

  ***

  The little waif was nearly invisible in a cloud of bubbles when Daniel finally reached the master bath. She giggled, seeing him standing at the doorway then slid back into the water and disappeared.

  He wanted to smile. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her tight against him. He wanted to fuck her again as ruthlessly as he had before. He had boundless energy, boundless desire for the girl, which lured him into feelings he’d just as soon ignore. Heaven help him, she fucked with him every time he laid his eyes on her. And now? What he wouldn’t have given for a lighter heart and a spirit less grim. But he was stuck being Daniel Broc and couldn’t change his basic nature.

  Coming up for air, Lisle leaned her arms against the edge of the heavy iron tub, resting her head cutely against her hands while batting her lashes like a flirt. “
Join me, sir?”

  “No. You enjoy yourself, Lisle.”

  “I’ll wash every inch of your body? You might actually have fun,” she cocked her head and spoke with a smile.

  “I said no!” He practically snapped this time. “But don’t take too long. We’re going for burgers as soon as the little princess is out of the bath and in some clothes.”

  Daniel left before she could reply, and it was not ten minutes before the lusty little tart arrived at his living room door, dressed in jeans and a sloppy sweater. The sweater was either too big or made to fall off her shoulder. Either way, she was damned sexy. Going braless, the hard nubs of her nipples poked against the wool and jutted out like two small pebbles. Her jeans fit tightly against her bottom and as she walked toward him she deliberately swayed her ass.

  She stopped inches from where he sat in his easy chair.

  “Turn around. Let me see you.”

  With her ass facing him, he inspected the top of her back and her bare shoulders, looking for welts from the whip—not something he wanted to show off at the neighborhood burger joint. Thankfully, there were none.

  “I must not have punished you hard enough to have you wearing jeans as tight as these.” He gave her butt a smack.

  She jerked and looked over her shoulder. “You don’t like them?”

  “Of course I like them. I’m just surprised by the choice.”

  She smothered a giggle. “Well if it’s any compensation, sir, I can feel my raw ass every time I move. The denim rubs against the wounds…keeps me horny.” She waited for his response then jumped in, “Is that okay?”

  He didn’t doubt that she was horny. He certainly was himself. But rather than taking them to the bedroom, he lifted out of his chair, grabbed his keys from the hallway table and walked out of the house with his arm going around her waist. In the last twenty-four hours he’d been breaking cardinal rules for governing a slave left and right; this kind of cheery behavior, and the physical displays of affection, was so unlike him, but it was comfortable enough that he didn’t stop. They walked several blocks down the street, relishing the quiet solace of the early autumn evening, then they ducked into Daniel’s favorite tavern.

  The two sat at a table tucked in the corner of the crowded bar, away from the noisiest chatter and where there was some chance that they could talk and hear each other speak. Even so, they didn’t say much and the conversation was devoted strictly to safe subjects, like what to order and which beer Lisle would like. The meaningful part of the conversation came when they were finished eating and Daniel put his grim face on, signaling she better listen carefully.

  “I might not be around much over the next week. But you behave yourself, no running off alone. Go out with Alice or don’t go at all.”

  “Why?” she came back innocently.

  Her blue eyes sparked briefly, as if she wasn’t happy with what he said, enough resistance to make him snap back with a curt, “Because I said so.”

  She sat back, pouting, “You don’t trust me?”

  “No, I don’t. Why should I, based on your past behavior? You’re too impulsive to trust, running off…”

  “I don’t run off!” she snapped back.

  She sounded petulant and he didn’t like it. But having felt his irritation surface, she hurried to explain. “I mean, I just go to the grocery store and the library.”

  “And completely forget about the hour.” Earlier in the week she wasn’t home by six when he arrived at the house after work. At least she carried the cell phone he’d given her—although she didn’t always answer.

  “Well, I really wasn’t that late…”

  She sounded like a snappish teenager and he an irritated parent. Not liking that, he stopped the argument cold. “I’m only going to say this one more time. When I’m not around, you stay at home. Go out with Alice, or don’t go out at all. You have that clear? Because if I have to repeat myself, I can assure that those jeans will be gathering dust on your closet floor for at least a week. You won’t even dare to put them on. Have I made my point?”

  She placed her hands in her lap and leaned back against the tall wooden booth, spouting an automatic, “Yes, sir,” and not looking particularly happy.

  The matter was settled as far as he could tell, and because he really didn’t want the day to end on a sour note, he added, “By the way, Saturday evening we’re going out to dinner. You can dress up for that.”

  Her grousing mood ended with this news lighting her face. “Really?”

  “Yes. Might even drop by the club.”

  “What club is that?” she asked.

  “A gentlemen’s club, the proper kind…well of sorts. Where rich men go to shed polite society. Some kink, but not much and all behind closed doors. Stuffy atmosphere if you ask me, but there are a few people I’d like to see who will be there.”

  She seemed delighted with this information. “Sounds like fun. So, you’re a rich man?”

  “Not really. Just rich enough to have the freedom I need. Now, no more questions. Let’s get out of here; it’s getting too crowded.”

  They walked back home with his arm across her shoulder and went straight upstairs. They slept the night in his bed, both coming out of a sound sleep just before dawn for a turbulent, almost barbaric fuck. Daniel was out of bed by seven, out of the house by eight. He didn’t say a word to her. She was still in bed, playing possum he was sure, so he let her be.

  Chapter Ten

  No Accidents

  Saturday evening, Lisle looked almost star-struck during dinner, as if she’d never been to a nice restaurant, never had worn nice clothes in public, or been in the company of adults who treated her as a normal young woman and not a slave. Her eyes were shining and her nervous jitters so apparent that Daniel made her focus on him, lest she simply float away on a cloud of wonder. Far more bashful and reticent than she’d been in the burger joint, the conversation lagged until they finally finished their meal and left. After Lisle’s self-conscious display at the restaurant, Daniel wasn’t entirely certain that the club was a good idea; however, he had business to conduct there and he didn’t have time to drop her by the house and return to the other side of town before the people he needed to see had left.

  The exclusive Washington club had security nearly as tight as the Pentagon. All its members had been thoroughly vetted before they were allowed inside the hallowed walls. This was a bit of a joke that no one but Daniel seemed to get—while the background checks for members were detailed and painstakingly reviewed, no one seemed to care about the women who accompanied their members. It seemed that all a pretty woman needed to do was dress like a whore or in some elegant but alluring attire and she’d pass right through the security without question. She could have been carrying explosives and no one would have bothered to know.

  The interior of the 17th century fortress was pretty typical for DC. Paneled walls, leather furniture, the pungent aroma of cigar smoke. An ancient old world air seemed to sweep across the face once stepping inside its doors.

  A little frightened by the intimidating environment, Lisle stuck close to Daniel as he moseyed through the lounging rooms. The only difference between this club and one with a more respectable purpose were the lovely women draped on the arms of its wealthy members. Not all the women were luridly dressed but they all bowed to the male dominated atmosphere that was so noticeable. Even Valerie gave up the assertive power that drove her life—just as she gave it up for Daniel Broc. They met her in their meanderings, finding Val dressed in a simple green sheath that clung tightly to her voluptuous body but revealed very little skin from the dress’s high neck to where it ended at her knees. In four inch heels she was breathtaking in the way a 1940’s starlet takes the breath away, and yet she was determinedly yielding to men she must have fought with in court every other day of the week.

  She gave Daniel a hug and kiss on the cheek, another hug and kiss for Lisle, before she stood back and looked at them both.

 
; “I’m so glad he brought you.” She spoke directly to Lisle with a kindness that suggested some fondness for the girl she knew only from Daniel’s descriptions and a few chance encounters at his house.

  “I think he’s testing me to see if I behave myself,” she answered without emotion, surprising both Daniel and Val with the candid comment. He grabbed her ass and gave it a vigorous squeeze as though he didn’t appreciate the comment, even though he was actually proud of her for speaking up.

  “Oh, and what you’re wearing…” Val stepped back and inspected the girl more closely, winking as she flashed her a big smile.

  Lisle looked like a model of perfect decorum dressed in a charcoal colored pencil skirt and a ruffled button up sweater in a medium color that highlighted her sapphire eyes. A gift from Val. “Woman’s clothes” she’d surreptitiously whispered to the girl when Alice was out of earshot the day she dropped off two large shopping bags of clothes for Lisle. Her heels were not too high and the makeup and jewelry understated. Administrative assistant, executive secretary quality. The look would be good for most DC social occasions, though in the club crowd she was the least provocatively dressed of any woman there. There were those like Valerie, primarily out for a little tease, and others wearing bosomy low-cut sweaters or see-through blouses showing off bared breasts, or still others wearing skirts with dangerously high slits. One woman was in cuffs, and there were even a few with collars about their throats playing Dom/sub games with their men—the women were neither submissive or being dominated. However, other than some sloppy kisses and blatantly roving hands, any further sexual behavior took place in the upstairs rooms. All sound proofed so that even the titillation of a female in the throes of sex—or being savagely beaten—could not be heard.