by Claire Marta
“I don’t want it shaved.”
“You think I want to eat a hairy little cunt? I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to you do you, understand?” He replies with heat behind his words. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master Soren.” I hiss with a hint of defiance.
Roughly gripping my bicep, he leads me across his dungeon.
I have no choice but to follow or risk stumbling.
Lifting me easily by the hips, Master positions me on the edge of a metal table that’s stationed in the middle of the space.
“Lay down and spread your legs.”
“My hands are tied behind my back,” I protest as he looms over me.
“Doesn’t stop you from laying back even if it’s uncomfortable.”
With a sense of despair, I angle myself back until the cold surface meets my bound hands and naked skin. Shifting I try to find a position that doesn’t give me too much discomfort.
“Open.” A hand slaps against my closed legs with enough force to make me jump.
Slowly letting them drop wide, I stare blindly up at the ceiling. Escape is seeming to be further and further out of reach. Never once allowed out of the cell unless he’s present, I’ve had little chance to form a plan.
He’s trying to make me his willing pet. I’m going to have to bide my time. If I can get him to give me more freedom, maybe I can find a way out. I need to make him trust me. Make him think he’s broken me.
Settling into a chair at the end of the table, Master confidently retrieves a bowl he’s left on the side. With efficient ease, he squeezes out a yellow sponge that’s been floating inside.
Gasping as the warm wetness touching between my legs, I squirm.
“Stop moving.”
“That tickles,” I complain.
“I will spank you if you disobey me,” he warns, progressing his cleaning down toward my arse.
Pressing my lips together, I try not to wiggle at the intrusion. By the time he’s done lingering over my lady parts, my legs are trembling, chest heaving with unwanted excitement.
Without a word, Master discards the sponge. A soft hiss heralds the shaving cream before it’s cool texture is smeared generously along my mound.
Cleaning his hands on a towel, he swivels back with a pink razor in his hand. Angling his muscular torso forward, he gingerly begins to run it through the dark curls at the top.
Every stroke of the blade I can feel.
One large hand pressing down on my pelvis, he holds still as he remains absorbed in his work. With patience and silent precision, he scrapes away the triangle of pubic hair that guarded my untried womanhood.
I try not to jerk, feeling the glide across my pussy lips.
The tap of the razor against the bowl and the sound of water being disturbed follows as he soaks it.
“Stay still, I don’t want to nick you,” he murmurs.
Biting on my lip, I comply.
Not once does he hesitate as if he’s done this job a thousand times. It makes me wonder how many other women he’s trained. I’m not the first, that’s for sure. So where are the others now?
Using a hand towel, Master carefully patted me dry.
Cool air drifts against my freshly shaven skin. It’s more sensitive than before. As I’ve never done something like this, it’s a surprise. Will it continue to be just as responsive?
Reaching for something, he takes two round, flat adhesive discs and sticks them on my mound.
“Perfect and we can test these out now.” Running his hand over the newly smooth skin his fingers dip in between my folds to find my clit.
Moaning I can’t stop my hips thrusting into his touch. His ministrations have left a slow burning horniness building through my blood.
“My Dove is having dirty thoughts, isn’t she?” Using his thumb, he coaxes the little nub. “Tell me.”
“Yes...fuck yes, OK, I am,” I admit on a moan as the blunt end of his finger plays with my throbbing entrance.
“Good. Your body is starting to crave the stimulation of my touch. It knows I can give it pleasure, which means you’re more likely to obey. We’ll see just how much sooner with the electrodes I’ve attached.”
Halting his torment, Master rises from his chair.
Panting I lay glaring at him with darkening eyes. I hate it when he teases. For some reason he enjoys watching me beg.
Without warning, he flips me over as if I weigh nothing. Once on my stomach, he uses his knee to keep my legs apart.
“I think we’re ready to move onto something else today,” he tells me calmly as his strong capable hands skim down my bare sides before disappearing.
Twisting sideways, I focus on the wall. I can’t even imagine what he has in store.
Jumping as something cold meets my puckered arse hole, I squeal in surprise. “Wha...what are you doing?”
“Preparing you.”
“No, no please not there,” I beg in confusion.
A lubricated finger pushes past the rim of my tight hole. Working it in and out, he ignores my whimpers.
“Relax.” He coos.
A moment later, the tip of a cool hard object is inserted and pressed against the ring of muscles.
“Ah no, it hurts,” I wail, tensing up.
“It won’t for long. You’ll get used to the anal plug.” Fingers find my clit again playing with it until I start to loosen up with the pleasure.
As the plug slips in deeper, Master gives it a little turn. The lubricant aids it’s progress into my virgin hole.
Breathing hard, eyes closed I ride out the dark sensation the invasion causes in my back passage. I’ve never dreamed that one day I would be taken there. It’s frightening. Yet on some perverse level, I find myself somehow enjoying it. Once it’s fully seated, I let out a hiss, feeling its fullness.
“See I told you,” Master tells me as he pets my hair. “You’ll like it even more when I finally get to fuck you there.”
“I’ll hate it,” I snap back with vehemence.
“We’ll see.” Stalking around to the side, he observes me through the slits of his mask as if I’m a fine piece of art. “I could leave you in this position all day and not get tired of looking at you. That arse of yours would be a lovely shade of red if I chose to use the crop right now or maybe my belt.”
“Please...why can’t you just let me go? Why do you want to hurt me all the time? Do you get off on it? Enjoy hurting defenseless, innocent women?” I ask, staring over my shoulder at him with accusing eyes.
“Still so willful, Little Dove.” His deadly gaze bores back into mine from the holes of his hideous skeletal mask. “That mouth of yours will get you into trouble.”
“How many women have you done this to? Tell me,” I persist, feeling a lump rise in my throat. The way he does things is too precise and ritualistic. As if it’s routine. I wish I could see the truth. Master Soren is nothing but an empty void in my thoughts. It’s as if he doesn’t exist at all, or my visions are frightened to touch the threads of his life and view them.
“Cassandra.” It’s a soft warning, but I don’t heed it.
“I want to know how many others you’ve ripped from their lives and tortured in this sick game of yours.”
A large hand abruptly grasps my left buttock tightly making me jump. “You don’t know what torture is, Pet.”
“Just answer my fucking question.”
I have no idea where this spark of challenge has come from, but I cling to it. I need to know the truth. Have to remind myself this man is a crazy lunatic.
“More than I can count,” he replies this time without hesitation. “I’ve tortured, killed, interrogated. Men and women alike. It doesn’t matter to me. Everything has its price. Everything paid for by different clients. Anything can be bought down here. There’s so much blood and misery on my hands, if you could see it, Little Dove, it would make you weep.”
“You forced yourself on them like you do with me...” Bitterness threads my words
.
“Each bitch begged for my cock in the end, just like you will.” The certainty in his tone hangs heavily between us.
“I will never beg you for that. I would rather die,” I vow quietly.
Master’s blunt finger traces its way delicately down my spine. “You’ll want it. I can guarantee that. You’ll weep and plead for my cock. And when you’re finally delivered into the hands of your buyer, you’ll beg him too.”
The digit roams downward between my arse cheeks. As it bumps the plug still buried in my puckered hole, the sensation it invokes makes me moan. Moving lower, the edge of his fingertip caresses along my slick pussy lips.
“So wet for me already. You deny it, but your body tells another story, my Dove.” Master’s voice is low and ragged.
Shifting restlessly, I automatically lift my arse in wanton invitation. Inside my head, a war rages with what I know is right and wrong. Yet that doesn’t stop a strong part of me longing for his touch. I’ve become dependent on pleasure. Drunk on the orgasms he chooses to bestow.
“No,” I whisper in reply.
Rubbing his finger back and forth, he begins to tease.
Lowering my forehead to the table, I whimper.
A painful throbbing beats deep inside my slick core. I can’t hide my arousal. As I grow wetter, I feel it trickle down the inside of my thighs. Energy converses in my groin, the round electrodes stuck to my skin pulses in time with it.
“Why lie to yourself? Your defiance is admirable, but it won’t get you anywhere. There is no escape. This is your life now. The quicker you accept that and just give in, the easier it will be for you. Freedom is a burden. You should be thankful it was taken away from you.”
Sinking teeth into my lower lip, I hold back my response.
I do want him. It’s a dark, insidious seed growing inside me. His cock filling and invading me in a way I’ve never experienced before. His muscled frame pinning me down as he takes my virginity and appeases the unfamiliar feelings he has unleashed within.
A blunt finger rolls expertly over my clit. Straining against the table, my legs begin to quake with the building pleasure as every thought is obliterated from my head.
When I open my eyes, they focus on the row of glass tiny bottles lined up on a shelf in front of us. All are empty except one which now glows brightly.
“What’s that?” I ask groggily.
Carefully keeping the bottle between a forefinger and thumb he holds the green liquid within up to the light. “Your sexual energy from your orgasm. It was transferred through the specially made electrodes you're wearing. People will pay anything just for a taste of this and here we harvest and store it from the slaves while they're being conditioned.”
“I don’t understand.”
“They drink it. Experience every drop of your pleasure. Every second of ecstasy in a blazing high. We call it Bliss.” Moving he leaves me spread over the table to store it away in a velvety black box on a different shelf.
“Time for a new challenge,” Master rumbles in my ear when he returns, removing the round electrodes and butt plug when I’ve sufficiently recovered from my orgasm. “We have weeks ahead of training and plenty for you to learn before you leave here.”
He helps me off the table. Untying the ropes around my wrists, his fingers massage them gently. I’m still a quivering mess from his attention. Angry at myself for it.
After a few minutes, he takes my arm and guides me from the room. Whatever he has planned for me next, it's not far. Cell upon cell are far as I can see. Wherever I am, it’s massive. A mausoleum carved from rock. Along the maze of corridors, we stop at another door. Unlocking it, Master shoves me inside before closing it behind us. The room is large and rectangular. A woman is bound, naked to a metal framed bed. Leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles keep her spread-eagle, a ball-gag in her mouth to keep her silent. Eyes intent, they stare-up at me pleading. Her features are elfin. A pert-nose and pointed ears, limbs, petite and delicate. Silky, long, purple hair spills over the duvet beneath her. Two round grey electrodes have been placed on her smooth mound like I was just made to wear. Two dozen miniature glass bottles sit waiting in a box on a table beside the bed ready to harvest her pleasure.
“She’s being denied the luxury of an orgasm,” Master explains, watching my uneasy expression carefully. “I bring her to the edge over and over but never grant her release. Can you imagine being teased to the very edge of desire for hours on end. Brought to the verge but never satisfied. We’re up to seven days now, isn’t that right, slave eighty-two?”
She answers with a whimper.
I remain standing arms wrapped around my body in a gesture of self-defense. “That’s cruel.”
“Outside of this place, she was a princess, like you. She refused her father’s choice of suitors so he had her sent here to be made more subservient for her new husband.” He continues, “The cells of this place are lined with the same old stories. A man or woman who caught the eye of another. Someone else’s wife, husband, son, or daughter. A rebellious servant. An enemy a client wants broken. The list is endless, but it all amounts to the same thing. They have no identity here except a number. By the time they leave, they are what the client wants them to be.”
Master moves to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. Reaching out, he runs the back of his knuckles tantalizingly along her belly causing her to moan behind her gag and jerk her hips in reaction. “See how desperate she is? How needy? It only grows worse over time.”
The slave writhes frantically beneath his touch looking almost ready to explode from the slightest simulation.
“I want you to fondle her breast.”
Not sure I’ve heard him correctly, I blink slowly. “You…you want me to…”
“It’s not a request but an order.” Master’s eyes flash with disapproval behind the slits of his skeletal mask. “If you don’t obey, you’ll switch places with her, and we’ll start your orgasm denial early. You might claim to hate what I do to you now, but it will be nothing compared to weeks like this.”
Shuffling toward the mattress, I take a place on the other side of her. I’ve never touched another woman before. I’m not sure how to feel about it, but I know I don’t want to be tied up and vulnerable.
Cupping her breast hesitantly, I feel the weight of it in my palm, the soft, supple skin, and her puckered nipple between my fingers.
Eighty-two groans in response, eagerly pressing herself up to my fondling caress.
A blush rises from the base of my neck infusing my face with color at the traitorous clench of longing between my legs. This shouldn’t be arousing, but it is. A heady sense of power infuses me. An understanding of control over this woman and her pleasure. The same Master has over mine.
“Pinch her nipples,” my master directs, his voice a gruff purr.
I do as commanded. Kneading the prisoner’s breasts, I roll the peaks between the pads of my fingers. Eyes snapping wide, she arches off the bed, the sounds coming from behind her gag loud and raw.
Capturing her chin, Master stares down into her tortured face. “Should I reward you? Do you want to come, Eighty-two, after being so good for me? Your new husband wants to taste your ecstasy to see how well you're doing in your training.”
Grunting, panting, every movement is pure begging and her unspoken answer.
“I want you to bring her to orgasm, Little Dove. Use your hands, mouth, and tongue to achieve it. Fill a bottle on the table with her sexual release like I did with you. Do not disappoint me. Refuse and I guarantee you won’t enjoy the punishment it gets you.”
I remain frozen. Two sides of me at war. This isn’t something I can do. How can he expect me to? There’s no way I want a taste of his crop on my ass a second time. If I please him, maybe he won’t punish me in the same way? A dark impulse to have power over something I can finally control has me complying.
Crawling onto the bed, I press my open lips to the tip of her nipple sucking on it gently.
Twitching, arching a second time, Eighty-two feeds the rest of it into the warmth of my mouth. Swirling my tongue, my groin throbs in response to her every frantic feedback. In building confidence, I tease her more. Teeth this time.
I’m aware of Master Soren watching. How his hand is palming the solid bulge at the front of his jeans. It brings with it the perverse desire to arouse him until he can’t take anymore. Show him that I can make him long and yearn like he forces me to do.
Moving to the other side, I soon have her twisting and shuddering in frustration, her tits glistening with my saliva.
“You’re a natural,” he praises, the lust in his tone unmistakable. “Move lower. Give her what she wants.”
I watch my hand slither from her chest downward as if it belongs to someone else. As if somehow even now he’s physically directing my movements. Making me a puppet for his whims. Causing this depraved thirst for power.
The slave’s pussy has been shaved like mine, smooth and soft. My finger finds her wet slit causing a muffled roar to escape her throat. Pumping her hips upward toward me, her every movement beseeches for more of what I can give her. The ache between my own legs intensifies. I want to see her fly apart. Her skin awash with color from a release.
Sliding my digit into her slippery opening, I listen to her soft grunts. I can’t stop myself from watching with fascination, how my victim’s facial expressions contort with each emotion she experiences.
Scrubbing my fingertips over her clit has her thrusting her lower half skyward in a frenzy. Pushing it hard, I circle it with two fingers, but it's not enough to make her come.
“Put your mouth on her cunt,” Master instructs.
My hesitation is brief.
Slinking between her legs, I position myself before her puffy lips, the scent of her musk strong. Planting my mouth on her most sensitive part, the sense of supremacy is intoxicating as she squirms. Flattening my tongue against her slit, I lap up and down. Eighty-two’s strangled cries urge me on.
“Are you just set on teasing her”—Master taunts—“or just enjoying your first taste of pussy so much? Maybe my cock should be jealous.”