“Slave Lucy, I accept responsibility for your health and well being and your food and shelter,” Roberto recited, still looking into my eyes. “I accept responsibility for your discipline and obedience. I understand that if my conduct toward you is considered excessive, abusive, or neglectful by any other master here, I risk losing you. I understand that if my control of you is considered lax or insufficient by any other master here, I risk losing you. I understand and accept that thirty days from the date you arrived at the House, which in this case will be December 7, you will choose whether to stay or go and I have no say in your decision. I understand and accept that if you choose to remain with me, I must continue my responsibilities toward you.” He seemed nervous, almost as fluttery as I was. Maybe he’d never taken a slave before any more than I’d ever been one. He turned to the bearded master sitting in what I thought of as Deep Voice’s chair. “Do I have leave to take this slave?” That was said with more confidence.
“You have my leave,” the bearded man said.
“You have my leave,” Deep Voice echoed.
The other four from my vetting team repeated the phrase, and Roberto smiled. Contentment washed over me. I was wanted, cared for, and I had twenty men looking out for my safety.
“Come, Pet,” Roberto said. He helped me up, and I heeled him out of the room. They’d assembled all these men just for those few minutes? For me? Surely not.
The dining room door was open, and I saw that the table had been lengthened to accommodate more people, and another long table had been set up as well. A few uniformed men and women were cleaning up the remnants of a banquet. That explained why I’d been brought dinner in my room tonight. A Collaring Ceremony must be a really big deal for everyone, not just for the slave being collared.
Lustful Guy (Roberto—I was going to have to get used to him having a name!) led me upstairs to the second floor, then to the other end of the hall, where another set of stairs led up to a third floor. I hadn’t even known there was a third floor! We emerged into a large bedroom, quite luxurious, with a huge bed, soft carpets, and romantic lighting. It was still very obviously a room in the House, though. A large X stood in one corner with cuffs dangling from the four arms, and a familiar cabinet stood in another corner.
Lustful Guy/Roberto/Master freed my wrists but didn’t remove the cuffs. “Kneel at Rest, Pet,” he said. He went to one knee in front of me and put a finger under my chin. “Let’s get a few things out of the way.” He cleared his throat. “You will continue to address me as Sir or Master. You now know my name, but you may not use it unless given specific permission to do so. I will address you as Pet informally and Slave Lucy on formal occasions, like downstairs just now. Clear so far?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Some of your rules are loosened now that your initial training is complete, by House custom. You may now ask to speak if you want to say something or ask a question. There are times that permission may not be given, however. And even if you’re allowed to ask, that doesn’t mean I will answer. Except for tonight, you will continue to sleep in your room and will spend most of the rest of your thirty days inside the House. When inside the House, you will be completely nude. If I choose to take you outside, I will provide appropriate garments. You may not leave the House without me specifically. No other master is permitted to remove you from the House. Do you understand all of that?”
“Yes, Sir.” The idea of actually seeing the sun was enticing. Under what circumstances would he take me out? I wondered.
“Good girl.” He kissed my lips and stood up. “My gift to you is as follows. You will have the privilege of using your phone for one hour a day, under supervision. You will unlock your phone for me and set a passcode of my choosing. You may call or text friends or family to let them know you’re safe. You may not say where you are or what you’re doing, and you may not send photos or any GPS coordinates. Location services will be disabled on your phone. You may look at Facebook, though you may not post anything, nor like or comment on anyone else’s post. Severe punishment will result if any of these rules are broken. You may also use your phone to read the news, and if you’re very good, I may allow you to use one or two of your casual games in a limited fashion. I can, of course, remove your phone privileges at my discretion.”
My phone. I wondered if he realized just how much that meant to me. He probably did. And he knew I’d work hard to keep those privileges.
“You may not remove your collar. The collar marks you as a slave, and my slave specifically. I will remove it when you shower, but that’s all. You will continue to keep a journal, which I will read.”
My fingers twitched at that, remembering my humiliation from yesterday.
“I will also continue to provide you with a daily schedule,” he continued. “Any questions?”
“Yes, Sir. When can this Pet go outside? Or why?”
“Sometimes, Pet, you will accompany me to meetings and events. Anything else?”
“No, Sir.” He was throwing so much information at me, but I understood that he wanted to get it out of the way so there wouldn't be any confusion later.
“As for what you can expect, you will serve my sexual desires and fulfill my needs. You will do everything you are ordered to do, be available whenever I call upon you, and perform your duties with enthusiasm. You may, however, make some of your own choices now, as long as they are within the rules, do not conflict with my orders, and do not prevent you from finishing any tasks I assign you. When you’re with me, you do only what I tell you, but when you are alone in your room, you no longer need permission or instructions to use the bathroom, drink, rest, and so forth, unless I give you a specific order to do something or not to do something. Does that make sense?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good, Pet. Now, it is the custom of the House that when a slave is collared, master and pet spend the night together here. So let’s begin.”
Begin?
“Spread Eagle Face-up, on the bed, Pet,” he ordered.
Ah, begin. Right. I rose gracefully to my feet, then lay down on the bed. Roberto secured my wrist cuffs to rings in the headboard with a short length of chain, then collected a few things from the cabinet. He secured my ankles to the footboard in a similar fashion. I couldn't see what else he’d brought over. Waiting for him to start, staring up at the ceiling, immobilized as I was, everything he’d said to me over the course of the week, everything he’d done to me, bounced around in my brain. I am a master who finds causing pain to be arousing. He’d been the first to cane me.
I realized he was standing beside me, watching my face.
“You’re afraid, Pet,” he said. He rested his palm on my chest, between my breasts, and bent to kiss my lips. “Pain for pleasure is different from pain for punishment. Some fear is good. The rush of adrenaline, the anticipation. But you can’t let it rule you.”
Pain for pleasure. I swallowed hard.
He picked up a flogger. I tensed. I’d only ever been flogged on the butt, though they’d used the crop on my breasts a few times. He spun the flogger in a figure eight above my body, then another, lowering his arm with each pass, until the leather tails just flicked against the soft skin of my stomach, the undersides of my breasts. Like little stingers, the pain was fleeting, enough to make me start to wince, then fading away just as quickly. My breath grew shallow and my hands curled into fists. I watched the flogger in his practiced hands, mesmerized. This was an art form, beautiful to watch.
Possibly more beautiful if I weren’t on the receiving end.
The little stinging flicks became bites, and even in the dim light, I could see red splotches developing on my stomach and breasts. Roberto’s motions became tighter, the cycles shorter, and the flogger came closer to my body. Slap, slap, slap, slap, and finally I cried out. The pain didn’t end, just varied in intensity, growing sharper, building on itself with each lash of the tails. I writhed, trying to escape, avoid the next strike.
“Oh G
od, oh God, oh God,” I heard myself panting, every nerve abuzz, skin tender and burning. I pulled at my restraints, arched my back, and let out a wail that surely was loud enough to be heard by the assembled men downstairs. I ran out of breath, took another, and screamed again.
He stopped.
My body went limp, and I sobbed with relief. How? How was this different from a punishment? And I’d thought twenty lashes had been hard to take!
As the stinging, insistent pain faded to a dull sizzle, my tears calmed.
Roberto trailed his fingers down the inside of my bicep, so light a touch that if I hadn’t been on fire from the flogging, it would have been just a pleasant tickle. But with the endorphins coursing through me, his touch prickled. I could have traced the exact path his fingers traveled. He smiled at me, kissed my forehead, then moved toward my feet and repeated the same motion, but this time up the inside of my thigh, stopping short of my pussy. I flexed my thigh, lifted my hips, suddenly aware of just how aroused I was.
He picked up a riding crop.
More? I shook my head frantically. “No more please, Sir, no more,” I whispered.
The crop came down with a thwack, directly on my mound, just above my clit. The shock drove the air from my lungs in a silent scream, the pain so sudden and powerful that I was certain my heart had stopped. I drew in a breath and whimpered.
He waited. I kept my mouth shut.
Now a series of quick taps on the inside of each thigh, with the same not-quite-painful quality as his early flicks with the flogger, but my pussy still throbbed with the harsh sting of the strike he’d delivered. And beneath that, a low but mounting arousal still glowed.
The taps became progressively stronger, leaving behind a spreading ache that pulsed in counterpoint to the receding burn on my breasts and stomach. I didn’t scream this time, but I grunted with each tap. My body bowed again, hips lifting off the bed, butt clenching as I instinctively tried to close my legs, curl into a ball to protect myself, only to be stymied by the restraints.
Just when I was certain I couldn't take any more, he dropped the crop to the bed between my legs.
“Good, Pet,” he murmured as I calmed once again. “Would you like to come?”
I wrinkled my forehead, trying make sense of the question. He rubbed my clit with one finger, tiny circles that set my whole body quivering with the burst of pleasure. The intensity of my reaction was far out of proportion to the slight touch.
Pain for pleasure. Did I want to come? “Yes, Sir,” I gasped.
“You may.”
What did that mean? Either I’d orgasm or not. It wasn’t up to him.
Was it?
The next weapon in his arsenal was a wand vibrator, which he switched on and nestled between my pussy lips. He swiped it up toward my clit, the vibrations stabbing through me with such force as to be exquisite agony. I struggled against the restraints, as desperate to escape the torturous pleasure as I had been to avoid the biting blows of the crop.
With his free hand, he eased two fingers into my pussy, immediately finding and pressing up against the same spot inside that the Sadist had tormented me with yesterday—only Roberto’s touch was more finessed, enough that I noticed but not enough to cause the uncomfortable burning. Dizzy, overwhelmed with sensation, I wound tighter and tighter around that center, my brain empty of thought, limbs sapped of strength, everything pouring into the bottomless well between my legs. The sounds erupting from my chest were like nothing I’d ever made before, animalistic and pure.
“Now, Pet,” he said, and increased the pressure.
My pussy clenched in tight spasms around his fingers, contracting in waves that spread outward to my clit, my butt, my thighs, and up into my stomach. The waves kept coming and coming, and I screamed my release. A gush of juices wet the bed beneath me, and I took a deep breath for the first time in what felt like hours.
“Good, Pet.” The words floated to my ears as the vibrator shut off. He moved from corner to corner of the bed, released my wrists and ankles, but at that moment, I couldn't have moved if my life depended on it. A general warmth suffused my abdomen, my blinking seemed abnormally slow, and my thoughts were disordered and incoherent.
Roberto shucked his clothing and positioned himself between my legs. He leaned over me, kissed my forehead, my cheekbones, brushed my hair, matted with sweat, from my face. “You have pleased me, Pet,” he said. He kissed me tenderly, lips soft against mine, in stark contrast to his treatment before.
His cock quested in my folds, slipped into me. I closed my eyes and moaned, my whole pussy still sensitive.
“Look at me, Pet,” he whispered, and my eyes snapped open, meeting his. He held my gaze as he fucked me. I could only lie there, staring up at his face. The motion of his cock was pleasurable but not enough on its own to bring me to any kind of peak. His head dipped down to kiss the side of my neck, and then he pulled out. “Supplication with Knees Spread,” he said.
I rolled over and arranged myself into the position he’d named. I wasn’t sure I could hold this for long, not with how weakened and drained I felt.
After a brief delay in which I indulged in wondering what he was doing, the head of his cock bumped against my anus, then pushed in.
“No, please,” I whimpered. Stretching, stabbing pain accompanied his cock. He hadn’t used his finger or a plug or anything to open me up first.
Two hard smacks to my ass cut off any further pleading, but they did nothing to stop my agonized whine. He held still inside me, and I made myself relax, accept him. He fucked me hard once I’d adjusted, and it took everything I had to hold my position, but a desire to please him welled up in my chest.
Mercifully, he came quickly, then lay down beside me. My shoulders and thighs trembled, burning with the effort of maintaining this pose.
“Make yourself comfortable, Pet.”
Make myself comfortable. I curled up on my side with my head on a pillow, facing away from him. He stroked my hair, then shifted so that he could spoon me.
“You may sleep, Pet.”
I needed no further invitation. My eyelids slid shut, and I drifted off into a restful sleep, wrapped in the arms of my master.
* * *
Saturday, June 11, 2016, 3:45 p.m.
Seven months later
I sipped at my tea, studying the cover of the journal. I’d read snatches of it here and there over the last several months, when I wanted to remember something specific about my month at the House, but now I intended to start reading at the beginning straight through to the end. Memories of Roberto, of Deep Voice and the Punisher, and the others had faded, shrouded in a dreamlike haze. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if all of it had really happened.
I’d asked for release after thirty days. It hadn’t been an easy decision, and I’d strongly considered continuing into phase two. I’d grown very attached to Roberto. He was firm, fair, and caring, quick to punish but equally quick to reward, and his affection for me was obvious.
But I wanted more. I wanted a life again, friends. I wanted to fall in love. I wanted to socialize on my own terms, take a walk outside when I felt like it. And so, when December 7 had rolled around, much faster than I could have anticipated, Roberto brought me into the living room where the other five members of the vetting team had assembled. They had removed my collar, returned my possessions, and given me clothes to wear. Each had kissed me, thanked me for my service, and had given me a small gift. Then I was sent on my way as though I’d never been there.
A twinge of sadness still crept into my head when I thought about them, especially Roberto and Glasses. Especially Glasses. The few times I’d seen him after the vetting week, he’d looked at me with a wistful expression, almost regret. And every time I met those hazel eyes, I wondered what kind of master he would have been.
Maybe I would have stayed for phase two with him.
I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone where I’d been or what I’d been doing. I found I didn’t really want
to anyway. It had been too personal to share with anyone, even Beth or Jen. And I was never allowed to go back. Once I left, our relationship ended. I couldn't change my mind.
I still slept with the little fox Deep Voice had given me every night. It reminded me both of how I used to be and how much I’d changed. Everyone commented on how different I was, especially when I’d first returned. “There’s something different about you.” “You seem happy.”
Beth, especially, noticed. I was less nervous around men and at the same time less intent on “finding someone.” I even carried myself differently, moving with a grace I hadn’t had before, less clumsy. Sexier. And I hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since walking through the door of the House.
I flipped open the journal.
I’m not really sure what to write about. I’m supposed to describe my experiences and feelings. I’m scared. That’s a feeling. I’m afraid I won’t be able to meet their expectations. I only wish I knew what was wrong with me. I once thought I was broken, but these men, all of them, are certain I’m not. But how can they know? And what will they do to me if I never measure up? Will I be whipped until my ass is raw and bleeding? Or will they just turn me away after all?
A knock at my door interrupted my reading. I closed the journal and hid it under a magazine on the table, then got up to answer the door.
My stomach dropped into my shoes. Cute in a nerdy way, those hazel eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. I wasn’t supposed to ever see him again.
“Hello, Lucy,” he said.
###
Thanks for joining Lucy on her exploration of her submissive nature. If you enjoyed the book, I’d appreciate it if you’d take a moment to leave me a review!
The House Book One: Pet Lucy Page 17