Dark Obsessions Vol II

by Thompson, Claire

  “Go on,” he urged. “I’m going to lick that pretty, smooth cunt, and if you’re a very good girl, I might even let you come.” He hoisted her up onto the towel and forced her thighs wide. Crouching in front of her, he admired her cunt, which really was a work of art, like an orchid in bloom, the petals dark pink fading to purple.

  Brining his face close, he inhaled the sweet aroma of bath oil and feminine musk. Placing his hands on her thighs to keep them apart, he licked lightly along the smooth, satiny soft folds of her pussy. As he licked in circles around her clit, Alana moaned, ever so softly.

  Excited, he let his tongue flick directly over the hood of her clit. Taking his time, he licked and suckled her until she was moaning in earnest, her breath coming fast. “Oh,” she sighed. “Oh, oh, oh…” She was trembling, her chest heaving, clearly on the edge of a powerful orgasm.

  Abruptly, Mark pulled away from her. “Alana,” he said, his own lust barely controlled, “I know you’re about to come, but slave girls have to pay for their orgasms. Are you willing to pay?”

  She frowned, fear in her eyes. “I—I don’t know. I’m afraid you’re going to hurt me again.” Her voice trembled.

  “I will hurt you, yes,” he agreed pleasantly, though his cock was about to burst with excitement. “Pain is good for the submissive soul. You’ll appreciate the pleasure that much more keenly. I’m going to teach you to associate pain and pleasure. To endure the one to achieve the other. I’m going to teach you that to suffer can be sublime.”

  No longer panting with lust, she tried to close her legs, but he wouldn’t let her, his hands still firmly on her thighs. “I don’t want to learn that,” she dared.

  “No one asked you what you wanted,” he informed her. “It’s about what you need. And you need to suffer.” He reached for the hairbrush with one hand, the other still on her thigh. “Let’s see,” he pretended to muse, though he knew exactly what he was going to do. “Since it’s your cunt that is so needy, your cunt will take the pain.”

  Her eyes on the brush, Alana again tried to shut her legs.

  Mark removed his hand but directed sharply, “Keep your legs open, if you know what’s good for you. Wide open. If you try to close them again, I’ll tie you down.” Making his tone gentler, he continued, “You want the pleasure. You must learn to take the pain that goes with it.”

  Fear etched on her face, Alana spread her legs again. She looked ravishing, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed, her nipples dark against the cream of her flesh.

  Mark adjusted his painfully erect cock in his underwear and took a step back. “I’m going to beat your pussy with the hairbrush, Alana. Because you’re so new, I’ll only give you ten strokes this time. But if you close your legs or resist in any way, you’ll forfeit the right to come. Understand?”

  Alana swallowed visibly but finally nodded, her violet eyes wide with fear.

  “I didn’t hear you.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said in a tremulous voice.

  Holding the handle, he lightly smacked her denuded cunt first with the bristles to sensitize the delicate skin. Predictably, she yelped with each strike. At the count of five, he turned it over and struck her with the unforgiving wood. The smack resounded against the tiled walls, followed by Alana’s plaintive cry. To her credit, she managed to maintain her position, legs spread wide, hands clenched into fists on either side of her body.

  Mark was counting to himself, and he brought the tenth stroke down much harder than the preceding nine. As he expected, Alana screamed and slammed her legs shut. She didn’t yet have the discipline to resist her own impulses. That would come with time.

  “Oh, dear,” he said with mock sympathy. “You closed your legs, you naughty girl. No orgasm for you.”

  She was whimpering steadily and rocking slightly forward and back, her arms now wrapped around her torso. Zero discipline. He had a lot of work to do. But first, he needed to fuck her.

  He pulled down his underwear and kicked it away. Grabbing the oil bottle, he squirted some onto his fingers and coated his cock with it. Reaching for her waist, he pulled her forward onto his cock, entering her with one hard, perfect thrust. She wailed, fear and pain in the sound, but this only spurred him on. She might be in hell at the moment, but he—he was definitely in heaven.

  Chapter 5

  How had the week flown by so fast? In the six days he’d held her captive, Alana was progressing well, at least in terms of her behavior. She obeyed his dictates, for the most part, though she did have to be reminded from time to time, either with words, or with his whip.

  He no longer had her wear the heavy chain collar, except occasionally during a session in the dungeon. He found it got in the way when he wanted to fuck her—it was too clunky. Instead, he placed a leather dog collar around her neck from time to time, to remind her of her status. Someday, when she earned it, he’d buy her a true slave collar—one she wore not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

  She had stopped begging him to let her go, and had given up on the idea that she would soon be rescued. She barely spoke at all, except in answer to a direct question. This was okay, if a little lonely at times. For now, it was enough just to have her near him. When she was better trained, he would allow her to speak more freely.

  Though he longed to have her of her own free will, he’d come to understand that process might take longer than he’d expected. The thought that it might never happen was unendurable, so he put it from his mind.

  Still, what they shared was better, far better, than nothing. Alana Hunter, long adored from afar, was here, in his home, in his arms, whenever he wanted her. She belonged to him, if not in spirit, at least in body. For now, that was enough.

  She remained a hot topic on the news, of course, with wild speculation about all sorts of possibilities, from a routine kidnapping with a requested and exorbitant ransom only a matter of time, to her having run off with a secret billionaire prince from somewhere in the Middle East. Popular opinion on the many social media forums was beginning to edge toward her being dead, which was what Mark hoped the authorities would also come to conclude.

  He was careful never to let her out of the house. On the occasions when he had to leave her to run errands or check his mailbox at the post office in the nearby village, he always chained her in the bed by both wrists and ankles, and gagged her on the very unlikely chance anyone might stop by. No one knew where he lived except the utility companies and the UPS guy, and he intended to keep it that way.

  Though the police held press conferences and pretended they were following leads, so far there had been nothing to connect him to her disappearance. Even though there was some grainy camera footage of the car he’d bought for the sole purpose of her abduction, the stolen plates had, as he’d hoped, completely thrown them off the track. His real car, the one registered in his real name, was in the driveway. The sedan he’d purchased for the abduction was safely tucked away in the old barn behind his house, and there it would remain for the foreseeable future.

  He made sure Alana didn’t hear any news at all. He didn’t want to upset her. Perhaps someday he would allow her to contact her family, but only when the two of them came to a very different understanding. For now, he was all the family she needed.

  He allowed her to sleep next to him at night, though still chained of course. He kept her tethered to the ringbolt in the wall when in his bed, but with enough slack in the restraints for her to sleep comfortably. Sometimes he would fuck her just before falling asleep, and drift off with his cock still buried inside of her.

  Often he would awake in the night and it would take a moment to realize she was really there beside him. After years of dreaming of her, living vicariously through her films, it was still hard to believe she was there in the flesh.

  If he awoke with an erection, which he usually did, he would take her then and there. Sometimes he liked to rouse her by straddling her chest and forcing his hard cock into her mouth. She would wake up splut
tering and choking, but he would hold her still, forcing her to take his cock and make him come. He wouldn’t withdraw until he had shot his load deep into her throat.

  Other times he would flip her over and fuck her like a dog, not even caring if she woke up or not. Of course, she always did wake up. Sometimes she would cry out in pain if he entered her too quickly. “That’s your fault, Alana,” he would tell her. “If you were a proper slave you would always be wet and ready whenever I wanted you.”

  That night the moon woke him sometime after midnight. It was full and had risen high, filling the room with silvery light. Mark lifted himself on his elbow to admire his sleeping prize. As if feeling his gaze upon her, she opened her eyes.

  “I need to fuck you,” he announced, his erection instant at the mere thought. Then another idea entered his head as he looked at his naked, beautiful slave girl. He reached for the lamp beside the bed, since he’d need more light than the moon could provide for what he had in mind.

  Turning back to Alana, he said, “Come for me, slave. I want to watch you masturbate.”

  She looked startled, and then a pretty pink flush moved over her cheeks. “What?”

  “You heard me. Make yourself come. Use your hand. I want to watch. And don’t forget to ask for permission to orgasm.”

  When she didn’t immediately obey, he slapped her across the face. “Do what the fuck I tell you, slave,” he said in a hard voice. “Don’t make me ask again.”

  Tears welled in her eyes, her hand flying to her cheek. But after a moment, she spread her legs dutifully. Licking her fingers, she dropped her slender hand between them.

  Mark shifted so he could see her cunt better. As she began to touch herself, her eyes fluttered shut.

  “No,” Mark said. “Keep your eyes open and focused on your Master. And do it like you mean it. I want a good show. If I’m not pleased, I’ll put you in the cage.”

  That got her attention. She really hated that cage. She stroked herself, her eyes locked on his. After a while, she began to breathe faster, her chest rising and falling as she frigged herself in rapid, swirling strokes.

  Mark fisted his cock and massaged himself as he watched his beautiful slave bring herself to the brink of orgasm.

  “Oh,” she breathed, her body suddenly tensing. She continued to rub herself, her eyes going unfocused, her mouth slackening. All at once, she shuddered in a series of small spasms, her fingers flying over her swollen cunt.

  Watching her come made him come, too, and Mark aimed his shooting ejaculate over her breasts, catching both erect nipples with his flow. Her eyes were closed, her hair wild on the pillow, a pink orgasmic flush over her chest and throat. Jesus Christ, she was so fucking hot.

  Then, all at once, he realized what she’d forgotten. She would have to pay, the very naughty, naughty girl. He smiled cruelly as he regarded her, though he spoke with feigned gentleness.

  “Oh dear,” he said softly. “What did my slave girl forget to do?”

  Her eyes flew open. “Sir?” she whispered, the fear ripe in her voice as she focused on his face.

  “Think, cunt. What did I tell you to do before you came? What must you always do before coming?”

  “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I for—” she began.

  He cut her off. “Do you know what happens to a slut who comes without permission?”

  No answer.

  He grabbed her by the throat, just hard enough to get her attention. “I asked you a question.” He squeezed harder, his thumb and index finger pressing into the soft flesh just below her jaw.

  “N-no, Sir,” she wheezed, barely able to form the words.

  He continued to hold her by the throat, gripping it hard so that her face reddened, her eyes bugging out as she clawed ineffectually at his hands.

  “She’s punished,” he told her, as if she didn’t know. “Soundly.”

  When he let her go, she gasped, sucking in air like a fish out of water. “Oh, please,” she begged. “I’m sorry. Please don’t punish me, Sir. I’ll do—”

  Again he cut her off. “You can’t seem to keep your mouth shut tonight, can you? I’ll have to help you then.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Pulling open the nightstand drawer, he took out her ball gag. Getting to his feet, he pointed to the floor. “On your knees, cunt.”

  Alana scrambled from the bed and knelt in front of him. She knew better than to wipe his precious seed from her breasts. “Open wide,” he said, bringing the rubber ball to her lips. He shoved it in and then secured the harness tightly around her head.

  Taking her arm, he hoisted her to her feet and led her down the hall to the dungeon playroom. The full moon cast the room in an eerie silver glow, and he quite liked the effect. He decided to leave off the lights as he led her to the pulley apparatus. Securing her arms above her on the suspension bar, he ratcheted up the bar until she was on tiptoe.

  “Tonight we will use the cane.”

  Alana’s eyes widened in terror. She was right to be afraid. The cane, if not used properly, could cut the flesh and permanently damage the skin. Luckily for her, Mark knew what he was doing. He would mark her flesh with lovely welts. They would remain for a day or two, a proper reminder of her failure to ask her Master for permission in all things.

  Anticipatory tears rolled down her pretty face. Behind the bright red ball she made muffled, pleading sounds, but Mark was impervious.

  “A slut who doesn’t remember to ask permission must be punished. Do I make myself clear, cunt girl?”

  Alana nodded miserably. She looked stunningly beautiful, her pale, supple flesh bathed in the silver of the moonlit night. Mark came very close to her and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. Bending lower, he kissed and then lightly bit each beautiful nipple, tasting his own salty jism, which had dried there. Despite his recent climax, his cock began to harden again.

  “Prepare,” he said, as he walked slowly around the naked, suspended woman, “to suffer.”

  He brought the cane with a well-aimed thwack across her gorgeous ass.

  Predictably, Alana screamed behind her gag and swayed forward.

  “Stay still,” he barked. “Don’t move out of position again. Take what’s coming to you.” He struck her again, adding another sexy welt just below the first. He loved the whistle of the rattan just before it made contact with flesh, and then the deeply satisfying sound of impact, followed by her muffled, gurgling cry.

  He let a sharp blow land against the backs of her thighs, and she twisted in her restraints. Because she was on tiptoe, she couldn’t maintain her balance and swung around toward him. His cane, already in midflight for the next stroke, missed its intended target, instead striking her belly, the tip landing on her bare mons. At once, an angry red welt rose on the spot.

  “Stupid girl,” he said. “That was your fault.”

  Alana swayed in her chains, her eyes rolling upward. Alarmed, Mark dropped the cane. She was still conscious, though clearly on the verge of collapse. Quickly, Mark released her arms, catching her as she slumped down to the ground.

  Though his initial impulse was to carry her to bed and cover her welts with kisses, she would never learn if she didn’t fully experience the consequence of her actions. Rather than reward her for coming without permission and then for moving out of position, he had to complete the punishment.

  Lifting her into his strong arms, he carried her into the bedroom and on into the closet. The cage door was ajar, and he maneuvered her into the small space. He unbuckled her gag and pulled it from her mouth. Then he shut the cage door and clicked the padlock into place.

  Mark woke again as the sun was coming up. He’d left the closet doors open, and he listened a moment but heard no sound. Throwing back the covers, he got to his feet and went to check on his charge.

  She was curled in her usual fetal ball, her back to him, her hair obscuring her face. Her ass was nicely welted with a series of red lines already fading to pink. As he came farther into the
closet, she lifted her head slowly and twisted back to fix him with a pleading gaze.

  Mark crouched down and unlocked the door, pulling it open. He helped her crawl from the cage and hoisted her to her feet. The welt across her sex was red and oozing slightly. Lifting her into his arms, Mark carried her to the bathroom.

  He set her gently onto the toilet. While she was peeing, he ran a warm bath for her, adding a generous squirt of bath oil. She rose unsteadily to her feet and flushed the toilet. He moved quickly to her side and placed his arm around her shoulder. “You’ll have a nice bath and I’ll cleanse the wound,” he said.

  He helped Alana step into the tub. She winced as her tender, welted skin made contact with the water. As gently as if he were washing a child, Mark carefully soaped the wounded area. The spot where the tip had made contact was the worst. He hoped it wouldn’t permanently scar her.

  He thought about apologizing, but reminded himself she was to blame. If she ended up with a scar, it would be a silent reminder to exert better self-control.

  He let her soak while he brushed his teeth, put on a pair of pajama bottoms and went to put on coffee. In case she got any stupid ideas, he locked the bathroom door from the outside, pleased he’d thought of everything when he’d remodeled the old farmhouse.

  When he returned, he helped her from the tub and gently dried her off. The wound caused by the tip of the cane didn’t look as bad now. He applied some triple antibiotic cream and covered it with some gauze and medical tape. A day or two, and it would be good as new. He even allowed her to put on a robe—a silky thing of dark blue that perfectly matched her eyes.

  Though it was still early, the smell of the brewing coffee had awakened his appetite. “Let’s eat something,” he suggested. His arm around her shoulder, he led her to the kitchen, where Alana knelt on the floor beside the table without being directed to do so.

  Mark popped some toast into the toaster and got out the butter and jam for the table, along with cream and sugar. He enjoyed doing things for his slave girl, though eventually, when she was fully acclimated to their lifestyle, he would have her wait on him, and take over basic cleaning duties.