“Turn around,” Phillip instructed the girls. “Bend over and grab your ankles.”
All three obeyed, Gianna with as much alacrity as the other two this time. Phillip struck Leah first, the leather tresses smacking noisily against her skin, causing the flesh to jiggle. He moved up and down the row of bent women, hitting each as hard as the last, the blows rapidly reddening their asses and the backs of their thighs.
To their credit, each maintained her position through several minutes of intense flogging. Nora watched with silent longing, wishing Charles were there to witness the poetry of Phillip’s undeniable grace as he moved like a dancer among the three submissives, wielding his flogger with confidence and skill.
It was Gianna, poor Gianna, who finally fell out of position after one especially vicious blow. She lost her grip on her ankles and stumbled forward, though she quickly righted herself. However, the mood was broken by her action. Nora waited nervously for Phillip’s certain retribution, but to her surprise, he only said quietly, “We’ll work on your endurance, Gianna.”
He had Leah and Brooke kneel up, one on either side of the informal stage created by the large yoga mat. Addressing the committee once more, Phillip said, “Gianna, as you can see, needs a little more training than the other two, but I see excellent potential, as I’m sure you’ll agree.” Gianna, who stood now alone in the center of the stage, was blushing, her eyes downcast, her shoulders hunched slightly forward. Stand up straight, Nora wanted to call out. Hurry, before he sees you. Show your submissive pride! She had a crazy urge to rush up and put her arm around the girl, her heart aching with sympathy.
Phillip turned to Gianna and lightly touched her shoulder. “Position,” he said quietly, and the girl at once straightened, lifting her chin and thrusting out her small, pretty breasts. Nora had to admit she was pleasantly surprised by Phillip’s treatment of the sub. She had expected him to be more of a bully. Perhaps she’d been too hard on him. She knew she tended to make snap judgments of people, and sometimes didn’t give them a chance. She promised herself to do better.
For another half hour or so, Phillip put the girls through their paces, alternating a caning with some difficult bondage positions on the cross, and some grace demonstrations as he barked out various basic slave positions for the girls to assume and hold.
Finally, Phillip turned to the committee. “I had planned on demonstrating their oral skill with the use of various dildos, but since we have three male Doms here, I thought I’d throw out another idea, assuming it suits you gentlemen, of course. Since this is a private club, the girls all understand that certain sexual activity will be permitted and required, though they will be allowed to negotiate and approve each specific scene, of course. In that vein, I propose we lighten the demonstration a bit with some good, old-fashioned fellatio. I propose that you, Harry, and you, Jack, join me here on our little stage. We’ll allow the girls to worship our cocks. You can each decide on the skill level of your particular sub girl, and if they need improvement, I’m sure they’d be willing to, uh, practice until you’re quite satisfied.”
All the Doms in the room, including Jessica, laughed at this, in apparent approval of Phillip’s suggestion. If Charles had been there, would he have wanted to be one of the lucky Doms to get his cock sucked? No doubt he would, Nora thought with an inward smile. Nor would she mind, as they often played with others in the course of their BDSM scenes, though always and only with the other present and fully onboard.
But he wasn’t there, and she bet he’d be pissed later on to think he’d been forced to go over the same blueprints yet again on a project with a nervous client while his stand-in was getting his cock sucked by a hot young sub girl. Jack, meanwhile, had already risen from the couch, his cock pressing eagerly against his jeans. Without hesitation, he, and Harry, too, strode over to the makeshift stage.
Phillip had them stand facing the room, the three girls kneeling at their feet. Leah knelt in front of Jack, Brooke in front of Harry, Gianna in front of Phillip. Without a trace of self-consciousness, each man opened his fly and pulled out a rapidly hardening shaft. At Phillip’s command, the girls began to eagerly stroke and suck the cock in front of them. The little demonstration didn’t last too long, Jack coming within a few minutes, Harry not far behind him. The girls both obediently licked them clean and then knelt to kiss the tops of their feet.
Phillip, not yet done, grabbed Gianna’s head and basically impaled her on his shaft, gripping her hard on either side of her face as he fucked her mouth with sadistic ferocity. He held her, nose to his pubic bone, for several long seconds, and jerked suddenly, thrusting in apparent orgasm deep in the throat of the girl at his feet.
He lifted his eyes, letting them sweep around the room before finally settling on Nora. His lips lifted in a laconic, cruel smile.
Nora looked away.
Chapter 4
“Now! Come for your Master, slave.”
Sweating and shaking with the effort of holding off the climax, Eva gasped with relief and let herself go, her body bucking in shuddering release as the head of the vibrating wand whirred against her engorged, over-sensitized clit. Just as the brief explosion of pleasure edged into pain, the power clicked off and the vibrator was removed.
She desperately wanted to remain as she was, legs sprawled open, head back, eyes closed as she lay on the bondage table. For just this moment she didn’t feel hungry or frightened or in pain. How she longed to sink down into the peaceful warmth of post-orgasmic release, but she knew she mustn’t.
Master Phillip was waiting.
I hope I did good. Oh, I hope I didn’t come too soon, or too late, or without proper enthusiasm, or with too much. Oh god, please, please, please let me have done it right this time. Please.
Though she was held down against the table by a wide strip of leather stretched tight over her middle, she forced herself to lift the upper half of her body, balancing herself on her elbows. Licking her dry lips, she opened her eyes and tried to focus on the man standing at the end of the table.
“Thank you, Sir,” she rasped, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat and spoke the words she knew were required. “Thank you for the orgasm, Sir. I don’t deserve it, as I am just a worthless cunt, but I’m striving to become worthy, Sir. I belong to you, Sir. I exist to serve and please you.”
Had she remembered all the words? Had she injected the proper amount of sincerity without going overboard?
“And you have pleased me, slave,” Master Phillip replied. He was smiling.
Joy flooded through Eva, bringing actual tears to her eyes. Weak with relief, she sank back against the leather-padded table. She had pleased him! Oh, thank god, thank god, thank god.
“In the ten days I’ve worked with you, you’ve made great strides, slave Eva.” As Master Phillip spoke, he moved around to the side of the table and reached down, unbuckling the restraining belt.
Ten days? Had it only been ten days? She’d counted the first several days of her forced captivity, but had lost track after a while. She’d stopped trying the day he’d cut off all her hair, something breaking inside her, leaving her unable to concentrate on anything but her immediate condition. Her focus had shifted from the passage of time and thoughts of escape, to when Master Phillip turned the lock on the door, to when he fed her, when he whipped her and bound her, when he let her sleep, when he made her come.
“It’s time, I think,” Master Phillip continued, “that we move on to the next phase of your training. You’re ready to assume some slave duties beyond this room.”
Beyond this room! Was he going to let her out?
The thought of escape flared inside her like a hot, reviving fire. But how? She was naked, weakened from lack of food and without defense against a man easily fifty pounds heavier than she, all of it muscle.
Yet once awakened, hope refused to be snuffed out so easily. Eva knew better than to let it show. She closed her eyes, willing the serenity on which Master Phillip harped s
o often to suffuse her features. He must believe she was as compliant as she pretended, or he’d never let her out of this room.
Apparently she succeeded in mastering her emotions, because Master Phillip was still smiling at her as he lifted her into his arms. He set her down almost gently on the wooden floor. Exhaustion fueled by hunger and the half dozen forced orgasms he’d just wrested from her nearly overcame her. She fought the almost overwhelming desire to lie down, curl into a ball and close her eyes.
Don’t fuck this up! He’s going to let you out! Don’t give him reason to change his mind.
Eva sank to a kneeling position and then slowly, carefully lowered herself, trying to move with the grace he had drummed into her during positions training. She kissed the tops of Master Phillip’s bare feet, moving from one to the other with fervent attention until she felt the tap on the top of her shorn head.
She lifted herself to an upright kneeling position, straightening her back and lowering her shoulders as she thrust her breasts forward. She watched with rapt attention as he brought over a bottle of water and a brown paper lunch bag.
She opened her mouth as he tilted the rim of the bottle against her lips. She swallowed rapidly as the cold water gushed into her mouth. A little of it splashed down her chin and over her chest. It felt good against her sticky skin. He was pleased with her—perhaps he would let her bathe today. Perhaps she would be permitted hot water!
He let her drink the entire bottle. She forced herself not to stare at the brown paper bag as he regarded her, his head tilted slightly in appraisal. She tried to thrust out her breasts even more, and spread her knees wider, arching her cunt forward, hoping she was pleasing him. He crouched in front of her, leaning so close she almost thought he was going to kiss her. The thought repelled her, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral, her gaze respectfully downcast.
Instead he reached for her chin, lifting it with two fingers. His blue eyes were thickly fringed with blond lashes and for just this moment, at least, they were kind. “Who do you belong to, slave Eva?”
“You, Master Phillip,” she breathed, trying her best to put feeling into the words.
He nodded. “Why do you exist?”
“To serve and please you, Sir.”
“What would you do if I unlocked that door and told you to go free?”
Eva opened her mouth and then shut it, confused. “If you…?” She paused, desperately trying to formulate the correct response. She was pretty sure, “I’d knee you in the balls and run out of here so fast your head would spin,” wasn’t the right answer. This was a game, but the stakes were high, and so she replied, trying to harness the shock his question had caused into a show of submission, “I would beg you to let me stay, Master Phillip, so I could continue to serve and please you. You have become my world, Sir.”
Oh shit, had she overdone it?
He was silent for several beats, peering at her as if seeing past her skin and bone directly into her mutinous thoughts. She lowered her eyes, hoping the heat blooming in her face would be construed as blushing modesty.
Like many men too handsome for their own good, with egos to match, Master Phillip seemed, astoundingly, to accept her false protestations. He nodded slowly, his face breaking into a radiant, dimpled smile. “It’s happening,” he said, almost to himself. “The transformation that takes place due to consistent, properly applied training.”
Don’t count on it, asshole.
Eva let out a sigh of relief as he finally opened the lunch bag and took out a sandwich covered in clear plastic wrap, neatly cut into two triangles. Eva watched hungrily as he unwrapped the sandwich. He held one of the halves close to her mouth. As Eva leaned forward to take a bite, he pulled it back. Tears of frustration leaped to her eyes, but she knew better than to protest, or to react in any way. Blinking back the tears, she waited, her heart fluttering, her stomach rumbling.
“Do you deserve to eat this sandwich, slave girl?”
Oh shit. What’s the right answer? Yes, I deserve it because I pleased you? Or no, I don’t deserve it, because I’m just a worthless cunt?
The smile gone, Master Phillip was watching her intently, reminding her of a cat waiting to pounce the moment its prey moved.
Eva blurted, “That’s for you to say, Master Phillip.”
Master Phillip looked almost surprised, and then he actually laughed. “That’s correct, slave. It is for me to say. Well done.” He held the sandwich close again, and this time he didn’t pull it away when she leaned forward to take a bite.
He permitted her to finish the entire half, which was comprised of roasted turkey with plenty of mayonnaise on thick, fresh sourdough bread. When she was done, he stroked a bit of mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth and pushed his finger between her lips so she could lick it clean.
He opened a second bottle of water and held it to her lips. Eva drank, aware she would pay the price later if he didn’t allow her to pee. Astoundingly, he held up the second half of the sandwich. “More?”
Since he’d kept her in this small attic room, he’d never once allowed her to eat her fill. She was almost afraid to do so, afraid of the stomach cramping, not to mention the humiliation of being forced to relieve herself on newspaper while Master Phillip stood implacably by, watching her every move. Hunger and the uncertainty of when food would again be offered outweighed her fears, and Eva greedily finished the sandwich.
When she was done, Master Phillip said, “Now you will shower and then I’ll show you what I expect in terms of your initial slave duties downstairs.”
Master Phillip preceded her into the bathroom and turned on the shower. His body blocked his actions, so Eva had to step into the spray with only a prayer that it would be hot.
It wasn’t.
The water was icy cold. She soaped herself as quickly as possible, glad at least he wasn’t requiring her to groom. For the first time since it had happened, she was grateful she had no hair to wash, save for the bit of peach fuzz that covered her scalp. Master Phillip waited just outside the stall, holding her towel. Eva stood at attention, arms behind her head, her body covered with goose bumps, trembling with cold as he roughly dried her.
He led her back into the room and directed her to remain standing at attention while he went to the small locked cupboard at the back of the room where he kept various sex toys and restraining devices. He returned to her holding a chain link choke collar with a leash already attached, as well as a second length of chain with cuffs on either end.
He slipped the cold metal collar over her head, which tightened around her neck as he gave the leash a perfunctory pull. He let the lead dangle between her breasts as he crouched in front of her. He wrapped a cuff around each ankle and stood. He slipped the grip of the leash over his wrist and said, “Your first trip out. Are you excited, slave girl?”
“Yes, Sir,” Eva answered truthfully. Aside from the terror and outrage of being held captive in one small room for so long, there was the mind-numbing boredom. She had nothing to do—no electronics, no books, no phone, nothing. She couldn’t even see out of the high, corner window—the sole source of sunlight in the room.
When she wasn’t bound, she did try to exercise, but she was often too sore, tired or hungry to do much more than walk aimlessly around the small space. To get out, even if it was only to perform slave duties for just a little while, would be worth so much.
She moved hesitantly out of the room, the length of chain long enough to allow her to walk, though it hobbled her movements. She waited while Master Phillip lowered the trapdoor, watching as the portable stairs unfolded until the last step nearly touched the ground below.
She took his offered hand as he helped her almost solicitously down the steps, facing her as he led the way. Once they were both down, Eva stood in a kind of daze while Master Phillip folded the stairs and pushed the trap door upward, releasing the spring that held it in an open position.
The air in the third floor hallway sm
elled so fresh and clean, a painful reminder of the hellhole in which she was normally confined. A hot, white heat seared suddenly inside her chest, taking her breath away with its force. She thought she might be having a heart attack. It took a moment to identify the feeling.
It was rage.
Push it down, Eva sternly admonished herself. There’s no place for emotion right now. You’re in the hall! You’re going downstairs! Don’t do anything to stop that from happening. She closed her eyes, recalling Master Phillip’s mantra, and taking from it what she could use. Strive for serenity in the face of suffering. You exist to serve and please him. Remember that, and he will reward you. Forget it and you will suffer.
Eva followed him haltingly on the leash down the narrow, thinly carpeted stairs that led to the second floor, the chain between her legs clanking against the steps. He led her a few feet down the hallway, stopping at what appeared to be a small utility closet. Leaning in, he pulled out something and set it on the ground in front of Eva.
It was a pair of shiny red stiletto heels. “You will wear these while you perform your duties.” Master Phillip gestured toward the shoes. “Go on. Put them on. They’re your size.”
Her size. And he would know, because he’d had her strip as part of the submissive-for-hire interview process, and she’d never seen her clothing again. He’d complimented her on her apparent ease with her body, noting it was an essential requirement of the job.
She’d been so excited at the time—the offered hourly wage fully five times what she was presently earning through the temp agency she’d signed up with when coming to the city. What a fabulous gig, or so she’d thought, to be paid very well indeed to engage in her passion with serious, dedicated members of the BDSM community. She would be able to play with ease and safety in those fabulous dungeons she’d toured, and get paid in the process. How thrilled she’d been when he’d called her back after the initial interview, telling her she’d made it to the second level—her references, experience and “submissive bent” as he had put it, making her an excellent candidate for hire.
BDSM Club Series Box Set Page 65