Dark Obsessions Vol II

by Thompson, Claire

“Say it! What are you? Say it, or you’ll get a whipping and then you’ll say it.”

  Alana winced but answered in a barely audible voice. “I’m your cunt, Sir.” She blushed deeply, the color mottling her cheeks and neck.

  Mark was touched by her innocence. “That’s right. You’re my cunt. Why does that make you blush? I can see we will have to desensitize you to that particular word. That will be your pet name for now. You are my cunt. And you also have a lovely cunt. Later, I’ll have you display your lovely cunt to me, but for now you can stay on my lap. Your nickname is now cunt girl, until I decide to change it. Understand, cunt girl?”

  Throughout his speech the color in her face and neck continued to rise. Mark was delighted with her sensitivity. She was adorable. “And now, cunt girl,” he went on sadistically, “I’ll teach you more about what and who you are. Do you know why you exist?”

  Alana looked confused and Mark went on. “You exist to serve me. Now, I’ll ask you again. Why do you exist, cunt girl?”

  “To,” she hesitated, but forced the words to her lips. “—to serve you, Sir.”

  “That’s correct. You exist to serve me, but you don’t yet deserve me.” He flashed a grin, pleased with his turn of phrase. “Not yet. What you deserve is to be beaten for your bratty, willful behavior.” He gave her a moment to absorb this and then asked with a school teacher’s patience, “Now, what do you deserve?”

  “To be beaten.” Her voice caught in her throat.

  “To be beaten what?”

  “To be beaten, Sir.”

  “Good. And not only do you deserve to be beaten, you deserve to be punished for your sins. Now. What do you deserve?”

  “I deserve to be beaten, Sir,” she replied tremulously. “And to be punished for my sins.”

  “That’s right,” Mark said, nodding approvingly. “And the way you are to be punished is up to me. Whatever I decree is what you deserve. Understand, cunt girl?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her eyes were round with fear.

  His cock was swelling in his jeans, but he continued with the lesson. “Now, cunt, I am your Master. You must be willing to suffer for me. Who am I?”

  “My Master, Sir.”

  “And what are you willing to do for me, slave?”

  “To suffer for you, Sir.”

  “Yes. To suffer for me, with grace. I’ll teach you grace, cunt girl. And I will teach you what it is to suffer.”

  Alana didn’t respond.

  “Now, let’s start again.”

  Over and over Mark drilled Alana in how he expected her to respond. After another thirty minutes or so of questions and answers he was satisfied.

  “All right then, cunt girl, time to go back to the cage. I’m going to eat some lunch but I don’t expect you are hungry.”

  “Please, Sir, I’m so hungry. Please, I did everything you said.”

  “No. You aren’t hungry, cunt girl. Your Master says you aren’t hungry.”

  She whimpered but said nothing.

  “Now, are you hungry, cunt?” Mark prodded.

  “No, Sir,” Alana whispered faintly, tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

  “No, I didn’t think so.” He fingered the scratches Alana had made on his face that morning. She seemed to understand his silent rebuke. He stood up, lifting the girl in his arms and gently setting her on her feet. He gestured for her to kneel on the ground next to the couch.

  “Since you have yet to prove that you are more than an animal—an animal that scratches and bites—I’m going to treat you like an animal for a while longer. Wait there by the couch and don’t move.”

  She knelt obediently, fear etched onto her pretty face.

  Mark went over to a large chest in the corner of the room. Whips, riding crops, collars, leashes and various other toys were stowed inside. Mark pulled out a heavy collar of black iron with a single ring hanging in the front. He also removed a long leash made of thick metal links. Returning to Alana, he set the implements down next to her.

  “Lift your hair,” he instructed her. Alana lifted her heavy mane of dark hair, baring her long, slender neck, and the graceful gesture took his breath away.

  He attached the heavy collar around her neck. He liked the way it hung on her chest, the ring sitting just above the rounded swell of her breasts.

  “This is your animal collar, cunt girl. I’ll remove it when you stop acting like an animal. Till then it remains. Here is your leash.” He attached it to the ring on the center of the collar and jerked her upward. “Get on your feet.”

  Once she was upright, he led her by the leash back into the bedroom and toward the closet. “You’re going back in the cage.”

  “Oh, please,” she begged, pulling back. “Not the cage. Please, Sir. Please, I’m begging you.”

  “Disobedient animals belong in cages, Alana.” He jerked her forward. “Are you refusing your Master’s direct command?” Mark lifted his eyebrows, daring her to defy him.

  Alana bit her lower lip and then finally whispered, “No, Sir.”

  “All right then.” He removed the leash and forced her to her knees. Pointing to the open door of the cage, he ordered, “Crawl in. If you take your punishment with submissive grace, I might let you eat something later. Meanwhile, get some rest if you can. I have lots of fun things planned.”

  After she crawled into the small space and curled up on its floor, Mark padlocked the door and left the closet, closing the doors behind him.

  Chapter 4

  Hungry. Thirsty. So thirsty. Throat hurts, eyes sting. Every muscle aches. Exhausted. What was I thinking, trying to fight him? He’s much bigger, much stronger. He has a gun. He holds all the cards. I was stupid to resist. I need to pretend. I’m an actress. I can act. I can behave as if I’m buying into his total insanity. I can submit.

  Alana opened her eyes wide, trying to see something in the dark closet. She focused on the line of light showing beneath the doors. Was he out there, waiting? Would he let her out soon? Should she call out, pretend to be contrite, apologize and promise to be a good girl?

  She opened her mouth, but no sound would come. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t beg. He could fuck himself.

  Mark lay on the bed. Alana had looked so miserable and terrified as he’d forced her back into the cage. He scanned his memory for any discussion in the many blogs and fan sites of her having a fear of small spaces, but there had been no mention—he would have remembered.

  It was just another sign that they were made for each other—he had honed in on her secret fear, and wasn’t afraid to capitalize on it—for her own good, of course. She had to be punished for her misbehavior or she would never learn. She needed to understand that his word was law.

  She had stopped her whimpering. Maybe she had fallen asleep, the poor dear—she had to be exhausted. Mark closed his eyes and drifted in and out of a doze. When he awoke, the sun was already setting outside the window. He must have been worn out from the all the excitement of the past few days.

  There was still no sound from the closet. He would let her out soon. Getting to his feet, he went into the kitchen to make his girl something substantial to eat. He couldn’t have her passing out on him because of no food, nor did he want to starve her to death.

  He cooked a steak and fried some potatoes, the delicious smells awakening his appetite. Leaving the food on the stove, he returned to the bedroom closet and pulled open the doors. Flicking on the light, he peered down at the girl curled in the small space, her hair obscuring her face.

  As he crouched down in front of the cage, she moaned and lifted her head. “Please,” she croaked. “Please let me out.”

  Tenderness surged through Mark’s heart. She looked so pathetic, her large eyes pleading. She’d been punished enough, for now. He quickly unlocked the padlock and opened the small door. He helped her as she maneuvered her way out of the confines of the metal cage and rose unsteadily to her feet.

  He took the leash from the hook wher
e he’d left it and attached it to her collar. “Are you ready to behave, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied obediently.

  A thrill shot through him. “Good girl. I’ve made you some food.”

  He led her to the kitchen, moving slowly so she could keep up without stumbling. When she attempted to take a seat at the table, he pulled her leash gently downward. “Have you forgotten? Slave girls don’t sit on furniture. You kneel at your Master’s feet.”

  She didn’t protest, but sank to the cushion he’d thoughtfully placed on the floor beside his chair.

  He wrapped the end of the leash around the back of his chair. “Put your hands behind your back,” he instructed as he took the wrist chain from his pocket. Moving behind her, he clipped her bracelets together.

  “Please,” she said in a tremulous voice. “I’m so hungry. How can I eat if my wrists are cuffed?”

  “I’m going to feed you, cunt girl,” he replied, amused at her wince, which he assumed was because of her new pet name.

  He slid the steak and mound of fried potatoes onto a plate and brought it to the table. Returning to the counter, he took out a glass and filled it with water from the tap. Taking his seat at the table, he cut a small piece of the meat and held it to her lips.

  Alana opened her mouth like a baby bird and eagerly accepted the morsel. Chewing quickly, she opened her mouth again.

  Mark didn’t speak as he fed his slave girl. He felt at once powerful and benevolent. He literally held this creature’s life in his hands. For a moment, Mark stopped feeding her as he marveled anew at her beauty. Her hair was a tangled mess around her face, but that just added to her wanton, wild look. With the heavy collar above her bare, beautiful breasts, she was like a barely tamed animal.

  And she belonged to him!

  With great self-control, he resisted the impulse to throw her down and fuck her right there on the kitchen floor. There would be time, plenty of time, he reminded himself.

  He ate the food along with her, alternating bites between them, and sharing the water. When they’d finished the food, he brought over a small wine glass and a bottle of his favorite port. He poured a generous serving into the glass and inhaled its sweet aroma.

  He took a sip and then held it to Alana’s lips. “This is an excellent port. Have some.”

  Alana sipped. Mark took another swallow, and then let her sip some more. “I’m very pleased with you, cunt girl. You’ve made a lot of progress in just one day. You have the potential to become a worthy slave. I know you aren’t here of your own free will. I’m not stupid enough to think you’re obeying at this point for any reason other than you have no choice in the matter. Still, you are behaving well, even as a prisoner.”

  She said nothing to this, and he quashed his slight irritation that she hadn’t responded positively to his praise.

  Getting to his feet, he unwound the leash from the chair and gave it a tug. “Stand up,” he commanded tersely. “I want to see your body.”

  Alana got somewhat awkwardly to her feet, her hands still secured behind her back.

  Mark assessed her dispassionately. Her pubic hair had surprised him. He’d gotten used to shaved women, which were the norm on all the porn sites he frequented. He almost wanted to keep Alana’s sparse curls for the sheer novelty, but of course a slave had to be fully accessible to her Master. Beyond the physical aspect of baring oneself, there was a mental aspect as well—the vulnerability created by being completely exposed and open to him.

  He was feeling expansive, and decided to make the experience a relatively pleasant one for her. “I’m going to give you a bath,” he informed her.

  In the bathroom, he allowed her to use the toilet as he drew the bath water in the freestanding, claw-footed tub that had come with the old place, and which he’d left when refinishing the bathroom, because it was just like the one in Lovers’ Quarrel. Would she notice?

  Mark stripped off his jeans and shirt so they wouldn’t get wet, though he kept on his underwear. He flicked on the wall heater, and then got out the fancy bath oil and the pretty pink razor he’d purchased just for her, along with a small pair of barber’s scissors. He set the items on the floor beside the tub and poured several capfuls of oil into the steaming water. As the water rose in the bath, he removed the heavy chain collar from around Alana’s neck and unlocked her wrists.

  He gestured toward the steaming water. “Climb in.”

  She did as she was told, gingerly lowering herself into the hot, scented water.

  Mark crouched beside the tub. Directing her to lean her head back, he washed her long, dark hair, shampooing the silky tresses and then rinsing them with a small plastic pitcher. Alana was as passive as a baby as he ministered to her. When he was done, he twisted a towel around her head.

  Next, using a large soft washcloth, he started with her breasts, rubbing the soapy cloth over her nipples, pleased as they rose to his touch.

  Alana rested her head against the lip of the tub and closed her eyes. She seemed to be relaxing at last. The tension that had held her body rigid seemed to be draining from her. Perhaps she just didn’t have the energy, the strength of will to resist him any longer. Or perhaps, just perhaps, she was coming to trust him the slightest bit.

  Mark moved the cloth over her smooth, firm stomach, and on down to the pubic hair he planned to remove. He rubbed the curls until they were frothy with soap. “Spread your legs,” he ordered. When Alana didn’t instantly comply he said, “Do I have to hold you under the water to make you obey?”

  That got a quick response, and Alana opened her long, slender legs wide.

  Mark soaped her inner thighs, his already erect cock hardening to steel as he moved the cloth slowly but inexorably toward her spread pussy.

  Alana sat up a little straighter in the tub, her body tensing as she brought her legs together.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Mark slapped at her knees. “Don’t you dare close yourself to me. Unless you want to find out just how long you can hold your breath.”

  She let her knees fall open once more, and Mark set the washcloth aside. Using his fingers, he gently stroked her cunt beneath the oily water, finding her clit and rubbing it lightly.

  Alana actually sighed as her head fell back once again, her eyes fluttering shut. Excited, Mark placed his other hand on a breast, which was just peeking above the water. He kept his other hand between her legs and pressed a finger inside her.

  As he teased and stroked her cunt, Alana moaned, a shudder of pleasure moving through her frame.

  Yes.

  He played with her a while longer, until he was nearly on the edge of coming himself. Recalling himself to his task, Mark took his hands from the water and reached for the razor. “I’m going to shave you,” he informed the girl, who had remained still, her eyes closed.

  She opened her eyes, the alarm clear on her face.

  “Relax,” Mark said with a laugh. “I’ll start with your legs. Then the underarms, and then your pretty little cunt.” He touched the scratches on his cheeks as he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t cut you.” He reached for the bottle of oil and added briskly, “Lift your left leg over the side of the tub so I have access.”

  “Please,” she said. “I can do that.”

  “Of course you can,” he agreed. “But you’re not going to. I am. You are my possession to do with as I please. The sooner you understand that, the easier things will go for you. Now, do as you’re told.”

  With obvious reluctance, Alana lifted her gorgeous leg and rested it along the side of the tub. Mark squirted some oil on her skin and denuded it in smooth, even strokes. Moving around the tub, he did the second leg. “There, see? I know what I’m doing,” he said, pleased with himself. “Lift your left arm.”

  She didn’t protest, though he could see she wanted to. Progress.

  When he’d carefully shaved her smooth, he turned his focus at last to her pussy. “We could do wax,” he mused as he regar
ded her. “But I do like the idea of a blade against your cunt.” He smiled at her gasp. A sudden, glittering image of her chained against a wall as he held a long, sharp blade to her smooth cunt and pressed the tip against her skin leaped into his mind’s eye.

  “Please,” she entreated, snapping him from his reverie. “You’re scaring me.”

  He lifted his lips into a cruel, amused smile. “Good. A little fear is a good thing, Alana. It reminds you of your place.” He let the water drain from the tub until it was low enough to leave her body accessible to him.

  First he trimmed her pubes as close as possible to the skin. She held herself very still during the process—a wise move. He let the rest of the water out of the tub. Though the room was warm from the steam and the heater, the naked girl shivered, goosebumps rising on her flesh.

  Mark squirted some of the oil directly on what was left of Alana’s pubic hair. He picked up the razor and leaned over the tub to get a good angle. He began to shave her, moving the razor carefully over her mons until she was smooth.

  Alana watched with wide eyes all the while.

  “Lift your hips and spread your legs so I can get at your labia,” he instructed. “And don’t move. I don’t want to nick you.”

  She obeyed, her body trembling, though whether from cold or fear, he wasn’t certain. With slow, careful strokes, Mark shaved the delicate skin until it was as soft as satin. Satisfied, he ran the bath water again, filling the tub with warm water to rinse her.

  When he finally had her climb out, she reached for the towel he held in his hands, but he shook his head. “No. I’m ministering to you right now. I will dry you.”

  She stood and shifted obediently as he directed while he toweled her dry. He removed the towel from her head and carefully brushed her wet, tangled hair smooth before tucking the damp locks behind her ears.

  Satisfied, he spread a fresh towel on the counter beside the sink. “Get up here and spread your legs. I want to taste you.”

  She looked confused for a moment, and then, apparently understanding, she blushed dark red.