by His Slave
Oh, shit, shit!
“Do you have one of these?”
Her first inclination was to shake her head. Then, deciding one of them needed to be honest, she nodded.
“Hmm. Works pretty quick, does it?” He brought it near her crotch.
Another nod briefly distracted her from anticipation and a little trepidation.
“That’s the response of most women I’ve used it on. A lot more punch in this than battery-run toys.” With no warning, he placed the Magic Wand’s head against her clit. Trying to bend her knees, she shook her head. Damn it, didn’t he know anything about warming a woman up? Giving her a sample of the main event ahead of time?
“Hold on.” He pushed her legs flat against the bed. “I’m looking forward to seeing your reaction.”
A loud buzzing reached her ears a half second before her pussy recorded the touch. A swarm of vibrations enveloped not just her clit but her entire sex. Nerves jolted to life. Her overwrought system let go, and she flooded her spread.
Overwhelmed, scared, and reaching climax, she threw herself to the side only to have him haul her back into place again. Holding on to her ankle restraints with one hand, he reintroduced the wand.
“What’s it like in there? Brain not functioning like you want it to, right? No matter how much you want to keep on top of what’s happening, it’s a lost cause. This isn’t your body anymore. Instead, it belongs to me.”
Was she climaxing? Maybe being dominated had thrown her so off balance she no longer knew her body, that and the toy’s relentless energy.
Stop, oh, God, stop! she screamed behind the gag. If he understood, he gave no indication.
“Okay, enough of that. For now.”
The assault ended. Although her nerves remained tangled, the sense that she was trapped in violent river current decreased. Scared he wasn’t done with her, she fixed her attention on his arm.
“A question for you,” he said, leaning so close their noses nearly touched. “I just gave you a taste of what you’re likely to experience tonight. Still sure you want to go through with it?”
Her first impulse was to shake her head as hard and fast as possible. The last thing she’d expected when she opened the door was to be treated this way. How worse would things be in a place devoted to master and slave, control and helplessness?
But she hadn’t hated the forced sexual stimulation, far from it.
“I don’t have all night.” He ran the silent wand from under her chin all the way to her ankles. “What’s it going to be? You going to bail, or do you have the guts to go through with it?”
Damn it, the pair who’d raised her had believed that throwing challenges at her was the only way to give her a backbone. Well, it had worked. Furious and still on sexual high alert, she glared at him.
“Still thinking about it?”
She shook her head.
“In other words, you have an answer?”
She nodded.
“Okay.” He positioned the damnable tool between her legs, then extended his finger, reaching inside her, making her jump. Withdrawing, he placed his drenched fingers under her nose. “Ready for me to untie you and walk out the door?”
Tense because he might bring the wand back to life, she nevertheless shook her head.
“Let’s make this clear. You’re not going to go to the cops after I haul you to Indulgences?”
Despite the image conjured up by the word haul, she responded with an unblinking stare and a shake of her head.
“All right.” Maybe she was imagining it, but his expression seemed to say that wasn’t what he’d expected. Or what he wanted. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Mindful of how close Cheyenne’s neighbors were, Mace had turned off the outside lights in preparation for leaving. Then he returned to where he’d left her. If looks could kill, he might be six feet under, but along with anger he caught hints of other emotions, not that her sopping sex hadn’t spelled things out. As he’d expected, he’d confused and frightened her with the way he’d manhandled her, but now wasn’t the time for an explanation, if ever.
Instead of immediately going about the business at hand, he took a moment to gain an impression of her bedroom. There wasn’t anything frilly about it. The bland walls, hodgepodge of furniture, and large plant on top of her dresser said not enough about the woman who lived here, or maybe the truth was, she hadn’t found a way to express herself in here.
Why not?
And why no family pictures?
Pushing the questions to the back of his mind, he approached her, careful not to look into her eyes. Tonight was going to change her; she just didn’t know it. Maybe change him too.
After pulling her toward him so her legs hung off the side of the bed, he sat her up. Grunting dramatically, he slung her naked body over his shoulder and turned toward the door. One arm held her in place while the other headed for her buttocks. He slapped her repeatedly, albeit lightly, so she wouldn’t be inclined to struggle.
Out of the corner of his eye he acknowledged the small surveillance camera tucked in among the plant’s leaves.
18
The back rooms weren’t at all what Cheyenne expected. Based on her online forays into bondage sites, she’d envisioned an elaborate dungeon or fanciful prison cells, maybe stalls filled with chained subs. Instead, when Mace stood her up, she found herself looking at an elegant, albeit dimly lit, banquet room. Perhaps a dozen men sat around an oblong table laden with what looked like fine china and crystal wineglasses. Dinner hadn’t been served, but wine bottles were being passed around.
Unable to stand with her feet bound, she was forced to lean against Mace, although truth was, she took comfort from his warmth. She might have relaxed enough to thoroughly study her surroundings if she sensed he cared about her. Instead, except for the hand around her, he didn’t acknowledge her existence.
“Mace, good to see you. How long’s it been?” a middle-aged man in the process of filling his wineglass asked. “And who’s this? Damn but you can pick them.”
“She doesn’t have a name, yet. I took away the one she had, just haven’t bothered coming up with something.”
“Slave always works, doesn’t it? Why don’t you park her and join us?”
“I was just about to. Where’s the handler?”
“Here,” someone said from the shadows. “You got preferences”
By way of answer, if that’s what Mace had intended, he grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. Even more off balance, she prayed he wouldn’t step away.
“There’s nothing like a crotch rope to keep a slave on her toes,” Mace said. “But really, I don’t give a damn.” With that, Mace shoved her away from him. Her chest collided with a solid male form, and unfamiliar arms engulfed her.
“What about the gag?”
“Leave it.”
“Suit yourself. But if she’s a moaner, you’ll be missing part of the show.”
“I’m not interested in anything she has to say. At least not until I’ve eaten.”
This wasn’t happening! The arms lifting and dragging her into the shadows had to be part of a too-vivid dream. Then the shadows gave way a little, and she was looking at a number of white floor-to-ceiling pillars. Women had been tethered to some of them. Two had their arms tied over their heads, their backs to the pillars, legs spread and ankles restrained. Like her, they were gagged. Ropes had been erotically woven around their breasts.
Shocked, she strained to locate Mace, but the body of the man holding her made that impossible.
“Don’t make the mistake of trying to move,” her handler said as he propped her against an unoccupied pillar. She was still trying to get her balance when he dropped to his knees and began doing something to her ankles. A moment later, although the rope remained in place, he’d loosened it so she could stand.
He took his time standing, running his hands over her body as he did. To her shock, the touch turned her on. Was she really that ad
dicted to being manhandled? Or was fear of the unknown responsible? “Nice fresh meat,” he said. She wasn’t sure whether he was talking to her. “Don’t know what’s going to happen tonight, do you? Not what you expected.”
Although she didn’t want to, she forced herself to focus on him. If anything, he was taller than Mace with a weightlifter’s arms and days’ worth of stubble adding to his sinister look. To top things off, he was dressed all in black.
“I’m going to take the strain off your elbows. It’s a bitch having to put up with that for long. And I’m going to untie your wrists, but don’t try to boogie out of here. You don’t want to miss being part of the show.”
The moment her elbows were free, blood flooded her veins. She moaned behind her gag. The idea of boogying anywhere with her ankles still tied would have been laughable if she hadn’t just noticed yet another naked woman. This one, mostly in shadow, had on a collar so wide it forced her to stare straight ahead. Her arms were behind her, her elbows so deeply bent that Cheyenne guessed some kind of restraint ran from the collar in back to her wrists. A chain fastened to a ring imbedded in the pillar over her head ended at her collar. As if that wasn’t enough, she also had on iron ankle restraints.
Cheyenne’s arms still tingled when her handler positioned them in front, one wrist over the other and wound rope around them. Another rope soon circled her waist. Seconds later, her handler had secured her wrists to the latest rope, preventing her from moving her arms.
“Now comes the fun part.”
Because he was working behind her, all she knew was that he was attaching yet another rope to the one around her waist. Crotch rope, Mace had said.
If asked, she couldn’t describe what she was experiencing. When Mace first brought her here, she’d been intent on comprehending her surroundings. Then he’d roughly turned her over to another man. The sight of other helpless women and the change in her ties pulled her into herself. Yes, Mace remained part of her world, just not as important as what she was experiencing.
Her handler’s hands slipped between her legs and pressed against her pussy, bringing her onto her toes. Just like that, she felt both less than human and more feminine than ever before.
“Not bad. All puffy and soft, just like I like it,” he informed her. What did it matter that this was her body? His strength and bonds gave him every right to do what he wanted to her.
“Damp, but not drenched,” her handler announced. “Mace, you sure she wants this?”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
What about my reaction to the Magic Wand, she wanted to demand as her handler continued his wanted/unwanted exploration. I nearly came then; you nearly made me come.
“Medium tight,” her handler observed as he slipped a finger into her. “At least she hasn’t been ridden by every stud in town.”
“If I’d known she was into the scene,” a new male voice said, “I would have put a saddle on her. She loosening up? Welcoming you in?”
Being talked about as if she were a piece of property had her so off balance Cheyenne was hard put to remember how she’d gotten here. Then there was the manhandling, the clinical exploration.
“Not making much progress,” her handler said, still probing. “Guess it’s time to kick things up a notch.”
When he slipped out of her, she acknowledged a mix of relief and disappointment. Having a stranger maul her had never been at the top of her list of things she wanted to experience, but her body operated independently from her mind, all instinct and anticipation.
His hand returned, only this time he brought the rope with him. Even though she twisted to the side, he easily threaded it between her legs. For the first time in her life, twisted cotton trapped her sex. Thank goodness it did little more than rest against her labia. If there’d been pressure ...
“Just about done, or should I say, my role in this is damn near finished.” He spoke with his mouth near her ear. “However, things are just getting started for you.”
Threading the rope’s loose end under her belt, he tugged. The rope rubbed her belly, but that was nothing compared to the increased pressure on her pussy. Trapped? What came after that? More than helpless? When he reached over his head, she looked up. A metal ring was imbedded in the top of her pillar.
Moaning, she watched as he looped the rope through the ring and tied it. When he stepped back, she stared at him, willing him to promise he wouldn’t leave her like this. Although he returned her gaze, there was no humanity or compassion in his eyes, only the look of a man who took pride in a job well done. Then he was gone, swallowed by the darkness.
By experimenting, she determined she could stand comfortably on the balls of her feet, but that did little to quiet the sensations circling through her. Pleasure and helplessness bled together until she could no longer separate them.
A thin red light suddenly streamed over the body of one of the women with her arms over her head. Then another band of red highlighted the second similarly tethered woman. Next came concentrated light on the woman in chains. Then it was her turn followed by more until by the time all the shafts of light had been turned on, she’d taken note of a dozen slaves. Only a few were gagged, but except for moans and sighs, they were silent.
Even trapped in her own body’s responses, she concentrated on what she was hearing. She caught hints of discomfort, but that only touched the surface. The others, like her, were deep inside their bodies, experiencing things that made them feel rawly alive.
The sounds sank into her and became part of her experience. With the blood-colored beam trained on her, she could no longer see the dining table and could only guess where Mace was, whether he was watching her.
She wanted him to note her silenced mouth and prayerful arms, the pale brown lengths wedded to her waist. Most of all she hoped he’d noted the way the rope hugged her belly and disappeared into the valley between her ass cheeks. If he could see her pussy ...
Despite the others, she sank into a space where only she lived. She had no command of her body, and yet it was doing what she’d long wanted it to. If the handler returned, he’d find her sopping and the rope soaked. He might ridicule her lack of self-control, but even as his words exposed what had always been her secret, she’d slide even further into herself. Maybe climax.
19
“She’s getting off on it,” the man to Mace’s left observed. “This her first time?”
“First time she’s been this far,” Mace replied because something was expected of him. “Hell, if I’d known she’d have so much fun, I’d have left her behind.”
“Tied up and waiting for you, I trust.”
“Got a cage. No need for anything else.”
“You’re not shittin’ me? You really keep her in a cage?”
Heinz—wasn’t that the man’s name—spoke with enough of a slur that Mace suspected he wouldn’t remember the conversation. But even if that was the case, he had a reputation to uphold. Long-time Indulgences members knew him as a coldhearted bastard. As long as the label stuck, Cheyenne was safe because other doms, unless they were stupid drunk or stoned, knew to leave his property alone. And if they were, there was always the pistol against the small of his back. He’d never come into this place without it.
“She’s not a full-timer if that’s what you’re getting at,” he told Heinz. “Not yet.”
Heinz nudged him in the side, causing Mace to clench his fists. “But you’re working on her, getting her there. Ain’t that a kick! Making some bitch think BDSM’s her idea when you’re brainwashing her.”
“Every slave’s different.” Although he wanted to keep an eye on Cheyenne and not Heinz, he shifted position. With his side safe from another jab, he noted that others were listening. What he had to remember was that this was about Cheyenne. Her experience. Memories that would find their way into her damnable articles.
Mostly he didn’t dare lose focus by wondering what the hell the security camera in her bedroom was about. That had to wai
t until later.
“She’s still wrapping her mind around what she’s feeling,” he continued. “She begged me to take her slow tonight. Not sure she’s going to get her request.”
“Hell, Mace, holding back has never been your style. You love taking a broad to the edge. Sometimes past the edge, which is why you go through so many. They can’t take it.”
Mace looked across the table and to his right to where the voice was coming from. “Yoel. Long time no see, man.”
“I’ve been here. Where have you been?”
To Mace’s way of thinking, Yoel was as far from the stereotypical dom as a man could get. Late fifties, no more than five and a half feet tall with a runner’s lean body, he didn’t look as if he could get any woman to see him as macho man. But he had a couple of slaves, good-looking women in their twenties, who followed him like puppies. For all Mace knew, they were part of tonight’s pillars scene.
“I’ve been busy,” Mace replied. Trying to wrap my mind around how I’m going to handle the rest of my life.
“How long since you’ve been in here?”
Mace shrugged. “A while.”
“Don’t tell me it’s because you’ve been playing privately with the one you brought in tonight. What’s the world coming to when dom ’em and leave ’em Mace lets some broad get her hooks in him?”
“No hooks. Not interested in that.” Ever. “I just wanted a break. No matter how interesting it is at first, too much of the same thing gets old.”
Yoel’s expression couldn’t have been more incredulous if Mace had just told him there was no Santa Claus. “No way. You’ve been in prison or witness protection or something.” He stuck out his hand. “Good to have you back. I learned a lot from you.”
“Did you?”
Yoel nodded, drawing Mace’s attention to the man’s receding hairline. “About not getting emotionally involved.”
“Are you saying you don’t care about those two children you’ve been hooked up with forever?” Mace challenged.
Yoel’s expression didn’t change as he shook his head. “I said I learned a great deal from you. I didn’t say I incorporated those lessons. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized I needed exactly the opposite.”
