When she didn’t react immediately to his dictate, Sam bent down, again seizing a fist of hair to jerk her upright. Rae gasped, a small cry of pain that made his cock harden. He forced her into position, pulling her arms and jerking them up.
“Hands behind your head, fingers locked together.” He moved to stand directly in front of her, using his foot to push her thighs apart, forcing her to expose her trimmed pussy. Her face was flushing a deep pink and her dark blue eyes flashed daggers. He would break down her defiant resistance soon enough.
“This position is called kneeling up, and when I give the order, you obey without hesitation.” He crouched in front of her, leaning close so their faces were nearly touching. She leaned away and he slapped her cheek, not too hard, but hard enough to make her cry out. She dropped her hands, putting them up as if to ward off a blow.
He wasn’t surprised at this completely undisciplined reaction; indeed, he had expected it. “Back into position,” he ordered, his voice low, its power palpable.
“Sam, you’re scaring—”
“The rules. No speaking unless—”
“I can’t do this!” Rae hugged herself, rocking on her knees. She looked up at him with tears in her eyes, her mouth trembling. “Please, Sam. Can’t we work something out? I want to please you, to—to serve you, but you’re scaring me. Please…”
If she’d been his lover, he would have scooped her up into his arms and kissed her, whispering that she was his lovely, brave girl who could do this for him, for them. But she wasn’t his lover. She was being punished, and had to learn to obey.
This was the moment to establish his complete dominance and make it quite clear just who was in charge. “You will please me,” he informed her. “And you will serve me. On my terms, not yours. Despite your promise to obey, in just the short time you’ve been in my dungeon you’ve proved yourself worthless. You’re untrained and disobedient at every turn. You’re begging for punishment. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you can’t or won’t follow the simplest of commands.”
He reached down, pulling her to her feet by one arm. Roughly he hauled her along toward the St. Andrew’s cross. She cried out, struggling in earnest as he forced her against the wooden X frame, but she was no match for his strength. He positioned her facing outward, her lower back resting against the intersection of the crossed wood, which would give him ample access to her ass as well. It wasn’t long before he had her properly restrained, her wrists bound high over her head, her legs stretched wide and secured at the ankles by thick leather straps.
He stepped back, watching her. Her chest was heaving, her tears leaving black trails of mascara along her cheeks, her hair falling into her face. He crossed his arms over his chest and let her cry.
He waited until her sobs subsided into hiccupping whimpers before approaching her. Gently he smoothed her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ears. Using his thumb, he wiped the tears from her cheeks. She turned her head away at his touch, closing her eyes.
“Rae, look at me.”
Slowly she turned her head toward him, but kept her eyes lowered. He put a hand on her throat, forefinger and thumb just below her jaw line, forcing her head up. His grip was light, only a slight pressure, but enough to make the point that, if he wanted to, he could choke the life out of her.
“Look at me,” he commanded again. “Now.”
Slowly she looked up, meeting his gaze. Her lashes were wet with tears. Sam kept his hand at her throat as he stared into her eyes, searching for the spark. There was fear, yes, and still the fire of defiance, but beneath it—something else?
He cupped her breasts, one in each hand. They were perfect, round and heavy, the heft pleasing in his hands. The nipples perked like the dark pink tips of number two pencils, perfect for clamping. One day soon, when she was further along in her training, he would have her offer her breasts to him. She would hold them up and beg for the cut of the cane against the soft, creamy skin.
For now he contented himself with tweaking her nipples, pulling them taut and savoring the swell as they engorged at his touch. Leaning down, he flicked her right nipple with his tongue, drawing a circle in the puckering skin around it before lightly biting the hard nubbin. He pulled it with his teeth, just hard enough to elicit a small, delicious gasp of pain. He did the same to her other nipple, leaving them both erect.
Using his middle finger, he stroked along her cleft, lightly teasing her clit, then pushing inside her. He felt the involuntary clamp of her vaginal muscles around his finger. Gently he moved inside her, feeling the walls moisten and heat.
On an impulse he leaned down again, kissing her mouth. She kept her lips closed until he pried them apart, forcing his way between them with his tongue. She submitted—what choice did she have—but she didn’t kiss him back.
No matter. She wasn’t his lover.
She was his slave.
His possession. His to use, to train, to discipline and to punish.
“It’s time, Rae. It’s time for punishment number two.”
*
Sam stepped back, his eyes on her as his fingers moved down his shirt, opening the buttons. He pulled it off, revealing his broad muscular chest. He unbuckled his belt, pulling it through the loops. He folded the belt in half and flicked it in the air, creating a snapping sound that made Rae jump.
As he moved closer, Rae gasped and turned her head away, screwing her eyes tight, her hands curled into fists of fear over her head. She expected to feel the sharp sting of the leather belt against her body, but instead she felt it being pressed against her throat, just above the collar already in place. She opened her eyes in surprise, only to realize he was binding it around her neck, buckling it behind her around the wood, restraining her by the throat. The belt was thicker than the collar beneath it, the leather tight and constricting.
Rae realized she was panting, her breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps. “Please,” she begged. “Let me down. I can’t do this. Please…”
Sam didn’t reply. He left her, walking across the space toward a large cabinet. Rae strained to see what he was doing, barely able to turn her head within the confines of the belt at her throat.
He returned with what looked like a small whip. He flicked it in the air near her and Rae startled, jerking in her restraints. She coughed as the belt, tight at her throat, pressed against her larynx from her sudden movement.
“Why are you being punished, Rae?”
“Please, let me down—”
The movement was sudden. He struck her cheek with his open hand, the sound sharp and explosive in her ear. “Another fucking word that isn’t a direct response to a question and I’ll gag you, got it? You aren’t going to be let down until you’re done receiving your punishment. Now answer the question. Why are you being punished?”
“I—I don’t know.” Rae’s mind was whirling, her heart beating high in her throat.
Sam leaned in close so she could feel his breath on her cheek. She tried to turn her head away, but the belt restricted the movement. She closed her eyes.
“It’s because you spoke out of turn, Rae. You can’t seem to keep your fucking mouth shut.”
He stepped back, again flicking the whip in the air, the leather braid so close she could feel the swish of air it caused near her thigh. In spite of her fear, Rae stared at the little whip, mesmerized. At last she tore her gaze away to look at Sam, who was smiling, a slow, easy smile that would have been sexy if his eyes weren’t so hard.
“You said this morning I couldn’t just tie you up and give you thirty lashes, remember?”
Was it really only this morning? Only this morning that she’d awoken, thinking about how in just another few weeks she’d finally be out of the jam she’d backed herself into? Was it only this morning she’d blithely sailed into Sam’s office, only to be blindsided by his accusations and ultimatums?
Another slap to her cheek jerked Rae back to the present. “Answer. The. Question.”
“And you were wrong, weren’t you?”
God, I fucking hate you. “Yes.”
Sam nodded, cocking an eyebrow. “Thirty days, thirty lashes. I like it. That’s what you’ll get now. Thirty lashes, one for each day you are here. You’ll count for me. Count out loud each stroke of the whip you so richly deserve.”
He flicked the tail so suddenly she didn’t even realize he’d done it until the line of fire moved over her thigh. “Ow!” she cried.
“Count!” he barked.
“One! Ow! Two!” The second stroke licked her other thigh, leaving a trail of pain.
He moved behind her, the crack of the leather against her ass making her jump in the split second before the pain registered in her brain. “Fuck!” she screamed.
“Fuck is not a number,” Sam replied, his tone amused. “So we start again at one.”
Rage edged its way past fear at that moment. If she could have, she would have strangled him. Instead, as the whip curled cruelly around her left thigh, she cried, “One!”
Ten more blows, five on each ass cheek, though the order was random. Each time the leather struck, Rae jerked against her restraints and cried out, the belt at her throat choking her. Desperately she tried to keep count, calling out the numbers, tears of impotent fury coursing down her cheeks.
He returned to face her. This time the lash caught the underside of one of her breasts, snaking over the skin. Rae screamed.
“Count,” Sam hissed.
“Twelve,” Rae cried quickly, terrified he’d make her start over. “Please,” she entreated. The whip struck, finding her other breast. She screamed, unable to help it, but she managed to gasp, “Thirteen.”
He struck her thighs, a stripe of fire on each leg before again moving behind her. For a while he concentrated on her ass, which was easier to tolerate than anywhere else, though it still stung plenty. At twenty-eight he returned to stand in front of her. She was breathing hard, dizzy with pain and fear, her body slicked with sweat.
“The last two,” Sam said. “And then you’ll thank me for taking the time to correct you.”
The flick was sudden, the pain excruciating as the tip of the whip made contact with Rae’s right nipple. She howled, forgetting to count, forgetting language altogether. Then her left nipple exploded with pain.
Her heart was thundering in her ears, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Count,” she heard him admonish, as if from a distance, though his mouth was close to her ear.
Somehow she forced her lips to comply, desperate for this to be over. “Twenty-nine,” she whispered. “Thirty.”
When he unbuckled the belt, her head fell forward, her hair hanging down in her face. He crouched down and released the ankle cuffs. Her knees sagged, the weight of her body pulling hard against her wrists.
She slumped against Sam when her wrists were freed, her arms flopping down. Sam pulled her forward but then let her go, forcing her to her knees. He stood in front of her as she swayed on her haunches, trying to clear the whirling fog in her brain.
“Now you’ll thank me for the punishment you so richly deserved,” Sam intoned above her. His crotch was level with her face and she couldn’t help but the see the erection tenting his pants. She watched as he slid the zipper down and drew both the pants and his underwear along his muscular thighs.
His cock was as she remembered, thick and long above heavy balls. She could smell his musk, which mingled with the sharp scent of her own sweat and fear. She understood what he wanted her to do, of course she did.
She wanted to smack the offending shaft, or better, to grab hold of his testicles and twist until he screamed. Of course she didn’t dare. Not while she was here, his voluntary prisoner. Why the hell had she agreed to his insane conditions?
It’s only thirty days, she reminded herself. One short month and then he’d set her free. They’d sign the indemnifying agreement and she could move on with her life, or what was left of it.
“Kneel up,” he ordered, his cock bobbing inches from her face.
Rae turned the words over in her mind, trying to remember what kneeling up meant. Hands behind her head, yes, that was it. She lifted her hands and as she locked her fingers behind her neck she looked down, drawing in her breath sharply as she saw the angry red welts across her breasts and the tops of her thighs.
“Spread your knees wider.” Sam moved closer, his legs between hers forcing them farther apart. “No hands. Keep them behind your head. Now thank me properly, cunt. Do it like you mean it. If you do a good job, I’ll let you rest.”
Rae glanced toward the bed in the corner of the room. Her muscles were rigid and exhausted from the stress of all she’d endured to this moment. The bedding looked soft and inviting, the pillows plump. Oh, to rest—her body ached with fatigue. To sleep—a brief escape from the nightmare in which she found herself.
Sam nudged the head of his cock against her lips. Rae’s impulse was to keep her lips firmly closed. Did he really expect her to suck him off as a thank you for whipping her? And yet, what choice did she have? What would he do to her if she refused? She was helpless, completely and utterly at his mercy. At least, once she’d satisfied the bastard, he’d let her rest.
She parted her lips, allowing him to thrust his cock between them. It lay heavy and warm in her mouth, the head nudging back toward her throat. She began to suckle and lick, closing her eyes, trying to pretend he was her lover, rather than her jailer.
If only she could use her hands, she’d be able to get him off much quicker. Still, she was skilled at pleasing a man. She’d make him come as fast as she could. She’d capitalize on his being a guy—once he came, he’d finally leave her the fuck alone.
She focused on her task, grimly pleased when she heard him softly groan above her. She licked along the shaft, creating suction with her lips and tongue as best she could. He groaned again, thrusting forward as his hands dropped heavily to her shoulders, holding her in place.
He eased his cock in and out of her mouth and she did her best to use her lips and tongue to increase the friction and the pleasure as he moved. “Yeah,” he breathed, his voice throaty and deep. She struggled to stay in position as his movements quickened. He was breathing fast, thrusting in and out of her mouth and she knew it was just a matter of seconds now, please god, until he came.
He shuddered and she tensed, readying herself for the spurt of his ejaculate. Hopefully he’d shoot it right down her throat and all she’d have to do was swallow without having to taste it.
All at once he let go of her shoulders, pulling his cock out of her mouth. Her eyes, which had been closed, flew open with surprise. He was gripping the shiny shaft in his fist, pulling at his cock, his eyes fixed on her face. He groaned once more and, before she realized what was happening, shot his load in white ribbons over her cheeks and lips, the last few globs landing on her breasts.
Surprise and humiliation burned their way through Rae in equal measure. Instinctively she brought her hand forward to wipe the sticky mess from her lips.
“Back in position!” Sam barked. “How dare you move before being given permission?”
Hating him with every fiber of her being, but too afraid to find out what would happen if she disobeyed, Rae reluctantly left the mess on her face and breasts and put her hands back behind her head. She looked down at the carpet as Sam tucked his cock back into his trousers and zipped them up.
She didn’t move as he stepped away from her. She heard the grating sound of metal on metal and stole a glance toward the corner of the room where Sam stood. He was bending over a large black metal crate, a cage to keep a large animal or, she realized with dawning dread, a person.
Sam turned to look at her. “Crawl over here.”
Rae stared at him. Crawl? Had she heard him correctly? As if reading her mind, he reiterated, “That’s right. On your hands and knees. Move it.”
Rae lowered her arms, again reach
ing to wipe the come splashed on her face. “Leave it,” Sam said. “Let it dry there. A reminder that you’re my property. Now, crawl over here right now unless you’d rather have punishment number three first.”
Dismayed and frightened, Rae dropped to all fours and began to crawl toward her captor, her bare breasts swaying as she made the humiliating trek toward him. He pulled the door of the cage open and pointed inside.
“Get in there. You haven’t earned the bed yet.”
In spite of herself, Rae shrank back. She opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again, the stinging memory of the lash looming large in her mind and on her skin.
Sam pointed emphatically toward the cage. Reluctantly, Rae crawled into the small space, shrinking back as he closed and padlocked the gate behind her. The bottom of the cage was padded with about an inch of foam rubber bound in plastic sheeting and covered in a thin layer of cotton fabric.
“Rest while you can,” Sam said. “I’ll be back later to check on you.”
“Wait!” Rae cried breathlessly. “I mean, um, please, can I have permission to speak?”
Sam regarded her for a long moment, an amused expression on his face. Finally he nodded slowly. “You may.”
Rae drew in a breath. How could she get herself out of this horrid little cage? “Please,” she begged. “You can’t leave me here in this thing! I have to pee. And I’m thirsty. And I don’t like small spaces. Please, don’t leave me here alone!”
Sam shook his head, his tone filled with mock sympathy. “Poor thing. I guess you should have thought of all this before you stole from me. As to your creature comforts, you should be more observant. You’ve got everything you need right there.”
He pointed toward the back of the cage where two bottles hung, one in each corner. The first was an empty plastic bottle with a wide neck opening into a square container. It was, she realized, a female urinal. She was expected to pee in that?
In the other corner there hung an upside down water bottle with a tiny metal spout, the kind of thing used in hamster cages, only quite a bit larger. She was expected to suck on the tip like a rodent in a cage. She was, she knew, thirsty enough to do it, but not while he was watching, the prick.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 189
