In this way, I curled upon myself, and not once did I realize the constant grating of the outside world had been silenced. I simply didn’t care. Until he forgave me, I didn’t care about anything.
CHAPTER 44
I had whipped her with ferocity, without mercy, trying to teach her humanity. I honestly didn’t care about deference to me, not as her master or even a lesser practitioner of the healing arts, but her simple basic humanity. The whipping had been intense, fifty to her back, and another fifty to her tits and belly. About a dozen of the marks opened her skin, some of them bleeding enough that I thought two across her back and one across her belly might scar. Maybe those reminders will make her a better person.
I wanted to hold her and let her cry it out. Yeah, I’m the sadist and she’s the masochist. I’m the master and she’s the slave, but I love Laura and felt the need to give her comfort and my love, but the look in her eyes told me that wasn’t quite what she wanted or needed in this moment. I set my own need to the side and took care of hers. I think few people seem to understand the aftercare isn’t just for the submissive. It’s likewise an affirmation of love for the dominant. But few people seem to grasp that, or the concept that my dominance was as much a gift to her as her submission was to me. I set all that aside, and considered Laura.
I don’t know if it was possible for her to become a better physician. She was written up even internationally for her spearheading work in trauma, known by every trauma physician who mattered in every corner of the world. I’d heard rumors she was even being talked up for the National Safety Council Award and Meritorious Achievement Award for trauma surgeons. I hadn’t learned this from Laura but from articles I’d read, found accidentally while researching other matters on Google with regard to my surprise. I’m a paramedic, maybe even learned and gifted, but I’m not a physician. I understood the generalities of field care, maybe even the minutiae, but precious little of the nuts and bolts of her work.
I wondered if she understood another basic facet of her frequent punishments, wishing we could both take two or four months off our jobs for me to run her through a boot camp of enslavement. But I was four years, nine months, and eighteen days to my retirement, which I still planned to take right on time, but she was unlikely to retire when I did. The truth was, Laura was a workaholic, and I figured she would probably retire only when she died. Maybe that was even for the best. I loved her, and loved our time together, but she needed to be Laura at times as I needed to be Keith.
I set that tangent aside and returned to the original point. She looked at me with wide eyes, tearful and fearful.
“Are you afraid of me?” I asked.
“Yes, Master,” she answered in a fearful voice. “I keep hoping you’ll forgive me.”
“Let you in on a little secret?” I asked.
“Please?” she asked.
“Long and short, every time I’ve had to punish you, I’d already forgiven you, even this time,” I said. “Laura, love forgives. I … I wasn’t annoyed with you on my behalf. I know you’re an internationally renowned physician. But I think you’ve forgotten you’re surrounded by humans, some of whom are under your thumb, and still deserve respect even when they’ve fucked up.”
“Yes, Master,” she said with a whimper.
“It’s a lesson Captain Briggs taught me, back when he was a lowly lieutenant. And it’s one I’ve kept close. The medic-in-charge is a supervisor, and on a multi-unit scene, the most senior paramedic is the supervisor, usually yours truly anymore, and that goes for students on our trucks. I had to send in bad reports on two of them, one only yesterday. A paramedic student showed up a week ago and I had him take vitals. The dumbfuck gave me a blood pressure. Later, he gave me a pulse, and only with more prompting, a respiratory rate. The little bastard wore a nice wrist watch without a fucking second hand, and I hit him hard on the evaluation report, which I sent by e-mail to his instructor. Another, on the 3-11 shift yesterday … she freaked out over a motorcycle accident that we ran, a pair of morons on a crotch rocket who were running from the cops, hit a curb, and cracked up. They weren’t even bloody, just muddy, but our student, Miss Whitebread Princess Penelope … I think she lives in your neighborhood, and I’m not shitting you.”
“Her name?” Laura asked.
“Maura Thibodeau,” I said after a moment of memory search. “She’s a nice kid, and bright, but she … she’s not adaptable, can’t take know-how from her brain to her hands. The paramedic student … I wanted to burn that moron a new asshole, but told him once that paramedic patch is on his sleeve, his era of hiding is done. I was nice to him. What the hell, he’s a nice kid, right? But I made it plain to him that if he fucked up with a paramedic patch, nobody was going to adopt his mistakes and cover for him. He stormed off, pissed off that I gave him a bad evaluation, but I kept my respect for both kids. What was to be gained in belittling them?
“I know you have responsibilities I can’t fathom, including people you don’t directly oversee who can still fuck you up. But … take yourself back to your internship and residency … did haranguing and verbal abuse make a better doctor of you, or just resentful? I swear, you doctors … it’s like abused children growing up to abuse their young.”
“Maybe you’re right, Master,” she said, looking like I’d given her food for thought. She snorted with dark humor. “Maybe if they used a whip on me rather than belittling me, it would’ve had a better effect. God knows it’s worked wonders for me in this relationship.”
“Get on the Mule,” I said. Her knees were rubbed raw from the crawl out here. “I think you’ve been on your hands and knees enough for one day.”
“Thank you, Master,” she said, sitting on the passenger side. I drove her to the barn, where I washed her wounds and treated them with ointment. She’d feel this whipping for a week, I guessed.
“May … may I relieve you, Master?” she asked. “I know I don’t deserve sexual pleasures while dressed in welts from punishment, but you should … Master, if your balls are heavy, it means I failed you.”
“Yes,” I said, “it’s only right to feed you an appetizer before supper.” I stripped and sat on a chair, then she crawled to me and swallowed my cock. I gasped as she took me into the velvet heat of her mouth, expertly bringing me to the brink. As I’d learned her, she’d likewise learned me, learned to use her mouth to get the most out of my cum.
I cried out as my cock erupted in her mouth while she expertly sucked every morsel that my balls sent flying into her mouth. I sat for a few long moments, blinking and gasping, before gaining enough energy to stand and point her to the cage. She entered, and I locked the door, then went to the man cave and grilled a sausage and corn on the cob for her.
I passed the plate to her through a slot at the bottom of the door.
“Thank you, Master,” she said. She ate heartily, moaning in pleasure at the flavors. Daley’s made their own sausages, and they were prize-winners. The corn, I suspected, was cut from the stalk that morning. We’d eat well out here.
I went to the garage and busied myself on Laura’s present. I’d done well on it, and called my buddy Ray Johnson. He told me to bring it over and he’d do his part, and that’s what I did, returning an hour later. A TV was in the man cave, but we hadn’t gotten satellite service or even internet out here. Thank God for my DVD player. I watched a movie while enjoying a cigar and three fingers of tequila, then folded out the bed and fell to sleep.
I woke with a start at about 7:00 Saturday morning to begin my day. I took a bacon-and-eggs breakfast to Laura, which she mowed down, apparently starving. After that, I went about my day. Four big oaks were in the way of another path I wanted to blaze. I put a trailer on the Mule and began cutting one of the trees with a chainsaw. I’d have Laura stack the pieces in the barn after she was out of confinement. Sometimes drudgery and menial work was good for reminding her she’s my slave.
CHAPTER 45
Not a fan of the cage. I hated it, in fact.
I hated that he’d had to put me in it, and I hated how I’d wasted a weekend where we could have been with each other. That was the worst rub. I was in here, while he was out there. Craving him wasn’t something I could turn off. He made me ache for him. I needed his companionship, his dominance, his touch. Stroking me. Loving me. Bringing me to the heights of pleasure and enduring his pain. I felt starved, empty and hollow without him.
The night had been easy enough to endure. My body ached from the whipping, but the exhaustion from my recent shift, along with what my body had been through, tossed me into a dreamless sleep.
The breakfast filled my belly, but his fierce determination to keep me in here left my heart an empty wasteland. I wanted to howl for my loss, and all I wanted was to crawl to him and have him hold me in those powerful arms.
Instead, morning passed to afternoon, then faded to evening. My thoughts centered on Keith, on what I wanted with him. The issue of work went round and round more than a few times. There had to be a solution there for me. I needed to retain my authority without belittling those who worked with me to save lives. That would take a major rewiring in my head.
What I’d done with Keith had been instinctual, a gut response. Learning to temper that would be a difficult lesson. I anticipated many future episodes within this cage until I was broken of that.
I slept when I got tired. I stretched to ease my aches. I examined those welts I could see, and tended to the cuts on my palms and knees with the tube of ointment Keith had left behind. Throughout that time, not once did he visit me. Part of me assumed he would come to check on me, or even just come to use me for his release, but I remained desperately alone.
Eventually, I stretched out, and between staring at the bland ceiling and featureless walls, I fell into a deep sleep. The rattling of the cage door woke me, making me jump.
“I leave you for a day and you’re skittish?”
It had only been one day. I had one more to endure.
“You startled me, Master,” I said, moving to my knees where I could greet him properly.
“I brought you something to eat.”
“Thank you, Master, you’re too generous.”
“I’m not being generous. I have a duty to see to your needs.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Come,” he said with a gentle smile. “I might be feeling a tad generous. You may use the facilities, but then straight back to the cage. Don’t take too long.”
I glanced up at him and thanked him again with my eyes. “I’m sorry, Master. My mind has been to a million different places, but everything keeps coming back to you. I’m sorry I ruined our weekend. I hate being separated from you.”
“It seems you’re finally learning the true purpose of the the cage.”
I gasped, upon this realization. Was that the truth?
“Now, get on, slave. Relieve yourself and return to the cage. You still have another day of confinement left.”
With my head hanging, I wandered over to the attached bathroom, shuffling my feet. One more day. I wanted to scream, or maybe hit myself with a whip. Begging to be released early crossed my mind, but I kept my lips sealed tight. He’d denied me his attention, and I wondered if I might not be the only one suffering as a result of this punishment.
I returned to him, this time on hands and knees. My palms hurt, but they were free of cuts. I gritted my teeth and bit back the pain. My kneecaps were bruised too. As he’d commanded, I returned to the cage, turning around to kneel before him.
“May I speak?”
“If it’s to beg for leniency, that answer is no.”
“No, Master. While that may have crossed my mind, I accept my punishment. I was worried about you.”
“Me?”
“I thought the cage was many things, but I hadn’t realized its true purpose. I hate being kept apart from you. And while I accept this, I realized my punishment keeps me from you too. I wanted to ask if I might...well, I know you’ll take what you want, but I wanted to ask if you needed me to...to.”
“Spit it out!”
“Do you need to fuck?”
“You miss me that much?”
“I miss you terribly, but that’s not what I’m asking. I know your needs, and your stamina. I also know how hard you work. My behavior ruined our time together, and I’m both sorry and ashamed. My concern is that your needs are unfulfilled because I screwed up. It’s not that I’m offering myself to you, because you’ll take what you want, I just thought…”
Hell, what did I think? I was offering myself to a man who didn’t need my permission. Should’ve kept my mouth shut, because I sounded like a damn idiot. I bowed my head. “I’m sorry for taking up your time.”
My entire body broke out in a sweat, and I shook from head to toe. In a moment, he’d lock me in, and I would once again be alone. Instead, he leaned into the cage and wrapped me in his arms, where I sank into his warmth. God he smelled like heaven!
“It’s a difficult thing to admit when one’s wrong. I admire the strength it’s taken you to see the truth of the lesson of the cage. And yes, I most definitely need to fuck. I’ve been all over the property, blazing trails, cutting wood, anything to keep my mind off coming in here.”
“You have?”
“We’re learning together. I thought I’d made myself clear with you, on my expectations when you’re away at work. If I’d been a better master, more firm, perhaps clearer in my goals for your behavior, you wouldn’t have lashed out like you did. Work is a difficult place for us, confusing our roles, even turning them on their heads at times. Your disrespect for me, and others, isn’t something I’ll ever allow. Next time, if there is a next time, I’ll ream you out in front of the crowd. Don’t make me do that.”
“I won't, Master. I really won't. You mean the world to me, and I want you to be proud of me. I'll work on how I speak to the others, but I'm afraid I won't be perfect. I'm trying to be a better slave for you, someone you're proud to call your own, but I'm human. I'm going to make mistakes. I'm going to wind up in here again, and I hate that. I hate being separated from you.”
“Fuck, but you make me hard. You asked what drove me. It's this. It's your struggle with submission. The gift you lay at my feet everyday.”
He threaded his fingers in my hair and yanked my head back. In the blink of an eye he went from staring to crashing his lips against mine. I shuddered and nearly came right then. If my submission drove him, then his dominance turned me to jelly. It was an indescribable feeling, having him in such a position of power over me. I could cum from this voice alone—as long as it was combined with his indomitable will.
With me held in his arms, he took my mouth. His tongue lashed against mine. His teeth grazed my lips, nipping and biting until I whimpered in pain. He reached between us and found my left nipple, pinching it until I screamed. I found myself dragged away from the cage and laid on my back. I arched against the hard floor, hissing against the pain from my welts. He pressed me down, feeding off my pain, and took my nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking it with his tongue. I dug my fingers into his hair, pulling at his scalp. Then I arched up again. This time it wasn’t away from the pain of the floor, but into the pleasure of his mouth.
As he licked and sucked my breasts, he slipped a hand between my legs. His fingers searched for my slit, then forcibly rammed in. I cried out from his rough touch, then keened with pleasure as he took me to the brink.
“Master,” I begged. “I can't… I'm not going to be able to stop!” And I desperately didn't want to disobey one of his rules.
He lifted off me, propping himself on an elbow. His fingers withdrew and I cried out, desperation lacing my voice. He struggled with his pants and freed his cock. Then his hand gripped my throat and squeezed tight. With one thrust, he buried himself deep. Those soul seeking eyes of his drilled into me as I gasped for air.
His hips thrust while I clawed at his hand. Faster. Harder. Deeper. He rammed into me, all while cutting off my
breath.
Each of his words punctuated with a thrust of his hips. “Don't. Ever. Disrespect. Me. Again.”
As my vision greyed out, I whimpered beneath him, clawing desperately for air.
“I. Own. You. Even your breath. I. Own. You! “
I was going to pass out when his climax ripped through his body. His hand squeezed my throat, and I accepted his words.
“Cum,” he commanded. “God damn you, cum!”
He released his grip and I sucked in air, then rode the most intense climax of my life. I milked his cock, slowing his thrusts, his chest laboring to pull in air. Dots swam in my vision and I gulped air too. And then I broke out in heart wrenching sobs. This is what I’d taken from him. This burning hunger he held for me, I’d ripped it from him with my disobedience. In that moment of discovery, I vowed to never again call him Keith. To me, he would forever be Master. Or Sir when in public, or at work. I would need to ask his permission for this change, but there was no doubt in my mind. It wasn’t enough to play at enslavement, I needed it to fill my every breath.
He rolled off me, turning to lay on his back. Bringing a hand over his brow, he closed his eyes. I crawled back to the cage, and pulled the door shut. This was my place. How I hated this cage, but then he spoke.
That low gravelly voice full of the sweetest Texas twang reached out to me. “Come, my love. You’ve learned the meaning of the cage. Let’s not waste any more of our time together apart. Come to your Master.”
CHAPTER 46
I was happier with her out of the cage than in, and we both damned well knew that. Besides, I’d been killing myself cutting that tree into pieces, although the bottom eight or so feet of the stump, cut into three pieces … those were too heavy to lift. There was a log-splitter out in the barn, but the wood needed to dry for a long while before we could split and burn it. I pulled the trailer out to the barn and unhitched it, gave Laura work gloves, and put her to work stacking wood, then put a sturdy chain in the bed of the Mule, rolled back to the job site, wrapped the chain around the stumps, and dragged them to the barn, where I stood the three stumps near where Laura was busting her tail stacking the firewood.
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