His Latest Acquisition

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  She began to moan behind the open gag, to salivate, to breathe more heavily, and finally twist and turn inside her chains, tugging at them, body straining, muscles flexing hard and tense. When he paused, relaxing only to have them tighten again as she withstood the stinging shower of cowhide heat.

  He felt her rhythm inside himself—what Evelyn had predicted.

  He paced himself, strut, postured and worked her vigorously with both floggers separately and in tandem, as she caught a wave of pleasure with the intention of riding it to an end.

  The activity invigorated him, caused his erection to swell mirthfully; he was almost in pain—just as he was with kari and brit. But would the desire em raised in him be good enough to hold his attention the way his other two sluts were so capable of doing? It never had before. His former wife was a different essence. Often the necessary magic simply wasn’t there.

  ***

  Every muscle in em’s body was engaged, every fire lit inside her inert frame. This master was new—definitely not Charles or Evelyn, or any of the ones she’d been accustomed to since she’d been housed at the villa.

  No one told her that the scene would be special—but certainly the chains were a dead giveaway. A first, a very sensuous first. She loved the cool to start and how they warmed as her body warmed inside them. They made her immovable. Perhaps she’d be a prisoner for the evening, another kind of ornament—they were so fond of posing her provocatively.

  When the flogging began, it was an easy reach to find her climax approaching. She could see it like a phantom in the distance, rising out of smoke, coming to her with long extended arms, clutching at her pubis with sensuous fingers. He flogged her there, too. Sometimes not softly. He used two floggers, each one carrying its own joys. She loved the sting, the burn and then the quiet of the second one to soothe her.

  As though driven to the summit of an enormous peak, she rode through one round of blows after another, knowing that it would take just one small act to set free the energy building in her clutching pussy.

  The flogger stopped—one of many times—but this last one was the perfect one. The hand at her pubis probed the ripened opening, a finger slipped lower to her anus, and with just the simple shake of that hand, a passionate shudder escaped, exploding a powerful climax and an incoherent babbling emitted through the gag.

  If it were possible for her back to arch further and her head to drop more severely, her legs to quiver and her arms to strain more intensely, they did. The response was natural, if not bizarre to witness. But em would not care, caring ceased in her a long time ago… weeks, months before this day of pleasure. Her pleasure was the reward for surrender, the just desserts for good practice and good form, the mercy granted the worthless being she had become. em understood that she was more powerful than worthless, but she wouldn’t dwell on that subject, she simply understood the truth in her heart, silently.

  Justin released his em from her bonds—arms first, then her feet, and finally the gag. He lifted her head and its support, so that her neck was eased from the strain and she could recover. Removing the blindfold last, he stared into her eyes, wondering how she’d view him.

  “Justin?” she whispered quietly.

  “Yes, it’s me,” he replied.

  “How special of you,” she said dreamily.

  “Yes, I suppose it is, but you have Charles and Ev to thank for the chains. Nice touch, don’t you think?” He backed away from her, running his hand along the chains that still wrapped her torso and thighs.

  “They feel wonderful,” she sighed, mind still lost in the afterglow.

  “Good. I’ll pass that information along on your next assignment.”

  “I’m leaving?” She was too dazed to think clearly.

  “You remember the plan?”

  Evelyn had been there to remove the chain wrap. By the time Justin asked his question em was nearly freed and sitting up, being helped off the rack and in her owner’s arms.

  “I’m not sure I do,” she replied wistfully, thinking she should be alarmed, but she was just too tired. Justin was moving so fast she could hardly keep up with him. It seemed that in the last few months her life had gone by at such an easy and deliberate pace that she hardly had to think. Thinking sometimes hurt.

  “Well, we’ll have to talk again. You have some preparing to do, but it would seem that you’re accepting your role as pleasure slut very well. Even with strangers, I’ve noted.”

  “I prefer friends, sir,” she said absently.

  He didn’t bother to reply.

  Justin gave his slave some time to recover from the depths of the endorphin high, though her mind was still hazy and her body swimming sensuously when he finally led her into the villa living room. Justin took a seat, while his slave slumped respectfully at his feet.

  “I have another assignment for you,” he announced, as his hand gently tugged the neat French braid.

  “Before we go home, sir?” She looked upward into what seemed like a benevolent face.

  “Yes, before you go home,” he answered.

  “How long, sir, if it’s all right to ask?”

  “Of course you can ask. This one should be just a few weeks.”

  She smiled.

  “Why don’t you tell her the truth, Justin?”

  An unexpected voice coming from the living room doorway interrupted the conversation between owner and property. Charles and Evelyn and their unannounced guest were just arriving. Dylan Kincaid entered first.

  Seeing her training master, a peculiar sensation hit the unsuspecting em, as if another climactic burst just ripped through her body.

  Looking up, as surprised as his slave, Justin eyed the newcomer suspiciously. “She should know what’s going to happen,” he replied without emotion. “We discussed the matter some time ago. I told her it was likely I’d use her for trade and barter, if not sell her outright.”

  “You’re planning to sell me, sir?” She stared at him imploringly—eyes vague and saddened. “I thought you said we’d go home.”

  “We discussed a sale as well, em. Perhaps not right away, but I think it’s only right to prepare you for a new master.”

  “Seems there have been two dozen on-line bids for her, Booker,” Dylan almost sniped. His eyes strayed to em, who looked up at him, her face disengaged.

  “Yes, there have been,” Justin acknowledged. “I’m quite pleased that I’ll have my pick.”

  “I’m afraid there won’t be any barters, trades or sales,” Dylan said tersely, “at least not from the Guild.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yes, I’ve emailed the membership informing them that em is no longer available.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “And why would you do that?”

  “Because you’ll kill this slave with your plans.”

  “Kill her?” His face screwed up angrily. “What’s wrong with you, Kincaid? You going crazy?”

  “Sanest thing I’ve ever done. em won’t survive your schemes.”

  “She’s been bred to serve me as I wish, and she won’t fail.”

  “Perhaps not, but em no more wants to serve you as a prostitute than she wants to be eaten by sharks.”

  em’s ears were weary, but perked to the strange accusations flying back and forth. She no longer leaned in to Justin’s legs for comfort. All she felt from him was cold and unwelcoming.

  “You have no right to infringe on my rights,” he snapped accusingly. “And you took down her website.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “So, you deny me my right to sell her. What is your scheme, man?”

  “Sell her to me.”

  Justin stopped, with his anger turning back to simmer. “To you? Really?” He was oddly amused by this revelation. “That’s what you want? You want my em?”

  “Yes.”

  Justin laughed. “Well, that’s really great of you to be so interested, but selling her to you doesn’t suit my plans.”<
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  “It suits mine just fine, and I am the guild director.”

  “Not for long if you start trumping other masters the way you have me.”

  “I’m not worried, Booker.”

  “Well…” he was shaken, but recovering quickly, “what you do doesn’t really matter to me. I don’t need the Guild to get what I want. I have plenty of connections without it. em’s my property and she will remain so until I sell her to whomever I want. And after what you’ve done I’d rather sell her to Attila the Hun.”

  “I’m sure you would.” He could not be more lethal with his reply.

  “I suppose you think that I’m a bad master?”

  “When you tell me you plan to get rich on her earnings… yes, that kind of talk incites my protective instincts. She’s too vulnerable to surrender to you.”

  “But, it’s what she wants, isn’t it em?” He turned to his slave with the question, certain she would answer in his favor. All eyes went to her now, making em feel as though there was a theatre spotlight trained on her. “Where is your loyalty, em?” He was so passionate, so very sure of himself.

  Justin’s bewildered property looked at Charles and Evelyn… and at Dylan Kincaid, remembering months ago when they talked about her loyalties—and what loyalty meant for a slave. Did her trainer foresee this moment then?

  It took some time for her to answer; so long she was sure that the room would tire of waiting. And when she finally spoke, she still wasn’t certain what she’d say. In the old vernacular, she’d ‘wing it’ with the hope that she could describe her feelings so they all would understand.

  “My loyalty is with myself, sir,” she finally said, her voice quavering strangely. “Where else could it be? I am a slave, sir.” She looked around the room for confirmation. “But I am still a human being, and what you ask of me is more than I want of slavery. I like what I have become. I like the chains, the beatings, the selfless servitude, but I don’t wish to be battered from pillar to post the rest of my life. I don’t want to be your loveless prostitute, Justin. If you can’t love me, then sell me to someone who might. I’d rather take those chances than live in the loveless void I feel now.” She looked for some compassion in the man’s flawless features, but there was nothing except the sameness of attitude she’d seen since he arrived that day. “You are so cold now, so dispassionate. I don’t even know you anymore.” She hadn’t made such a speech in six months—it made her wonder if she was taking up too much air space; and yet, no one ordered her to stop.

  “Then you’ve lied to me, em,” Justin shot at her.

  “Oh, no! I haven’t, sir. I haven’t known my own mind about slavery until now.”

  “Obviously the training hasn’t gone as well as I thought. But there are other places…”

  “The training has gone just fine,” Charles jumped in with a disgusted drone. “Give it up, man. We’ve had enough.”

  All eyes were on the confronted master, all waited with bated-breath. None more anxiously than Dylan Kincaid.

  “I’m in love with her, Justin,” he finally voiced quietly. “And I want her. You were her husband; you once said you loved her. If there is any love left, any concern at all, show it now.”

  “Who says I don’t love her now, Kincaid?”

  “No one,” Dylan acknowledged.

  “em, you have a choice,” Evelyn nudged em gently as the confused slave looked up at her for guidance.

  “I do?”

  “You may have given him your freedom, but nothing is irrevocable in any world, even this one.”

  em glanced from one Dom to the next, to Evelyn and Charles. She bowed her head as though she were praying, then finally looking up she spoke directly to Justin Booker with a trembling voice and quivering jaw, hands cold and clammy with sweat—“I know what I have with you, sir. I can only guess what I’d have with Dylan Kincaid. If it’s my choice, I’d choose to be with him.”

  Perhaps it was relief in Justin Booker’s steady eyes that edged to the surface of his cool aspect. It was difficult to tell, difficult to feel anything in the master’s mood; but with em’s reply, the room seemed to ease from the heavy tension and he did, too. From her lowly place at the feet of masters, she ruled for just one breathless moment of decision.

  Two days later…

  Dylan Kincaid peered at the photographs on line, smiling, knowing the places he would take this lovely slut. Yes, she needed love as much as she needed submission—she’d discovered that herself. And she’d be loved for sure while she’d see her submission to its rightful ends.

  He was more than Justin Booker could ever be. In time, this slut would pay for his gallant act of buying her; he fashioned em’s life to conform to his own dark vision of sexual submission. Triumph was knowing that she chose him above the other man. He would that fact to mold her. She was still fresh clay. Triumph felt good, but it was more than triumph; it was the right ending to this drama…and for the two of them, a good beginning. He could not wait for her to balk the first time he led her down the heavy-handed path of forced surrender, and prove to her who owned her now.

  More Erotic Fiction by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Seven Days in Cell Block 7

  Memoirs of a Sex Toy

  Innocence Defiled

  Honeymoon In Bondage

  Labyrinth

  Carly On Her Knees

  Taken Before Dawn

  Punishable Offenses

  Betrayal of the Virgin Bride

  Sexual Mischief

  Bounty Hunter

  The War of the Remingtons

  The Truth About Marianne

  Master For A Desperate Slave

  Poor Little Rich Slut

  The Humiliation of Hannah

  The Scandalous Demise of Lily Lake

  The Secret Sins of Lizzy Barton

  Pagan Dreams, Lesbian

  Outer Island

  Into the Dark Wilds

  Force Me To Obey

  These titles and many more!

  For a complete catalogue of Erotic Fiction…

  Pink Flamingo Publications

  P.O. Box 632, Richland, MI 49083, 1-877-629-0051

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