She realized Sir was staring at her, his expression darkening. M moved quickly, praying her delay wouldn’t result in punishment. She stepped gingerly into the deliciously warm water. Sir reached for her, positioning her so she was leaning against him, his legs on either side of hers, his strong arms circling her. He’d left the water running, and it slowly filled the tub, surrounding M in luxuriating heat.
M sighed, closing her eyes as she let her head fall back against Sir’s broad, strong chest. It felt so good to be held like this. Even though she knew it wouldn’t last—with the pleasure always came the pain—she savored the rare feeling of pure comfort.
Sir began to fondle her breasts, cupping them, kneading them, pulling the nipples taut and pinching them. Keeping them tight between his fingers, he gave each nipple a savage twist. M drew in a sharp breath at the sudden pain. She let it out slowly and focused on processing the pain without reacting. Sir liked it when she could remain perfectly still and silent. It was proof, he often told her, of her devotion to her Master.
Finally he let her go. “Thank you, Sir,” she whispered with relief.
His strong arms encircled her again and she felt his warm breath as he dipped his head to speak softly into her ear. “Who do you belong to, M?”
“You, Sir.”
“What are you?”
“Your slave, Sir.”
“That’s correct. And what may a Master do to his slave?”
“Anything he wants, Sir.” Something about this concept troubled M, but she said it automatically, as Sir had taught her. She didn’t like to follow the implications of the statement too far. She had to trust that Sir would keep her safe. She belonged to Sir. He was the Master of her body and soul. She lived for him. Without him, she would die.
She felt his hands on her shoulders. She was unpleasantly startled when he pushed against them, causing her to slip down in the water. In spite of her training, she pushed back.
“Don’t resist.” Sir’s voice was stern. “Or have you already forgotten what you just told me?”
M went limp. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll do better.” Her voice sounded calm, even to her own ears, but she couldn’t dispel the tendril of panic that was curling around her heart as he began again to push her down into the water.
As the warm water closed over her head, M closed her eyes and held her breath, trying to will away the panic that was threatening to engulf her. Her heart was pounding. She imagined the water filling her mouth and nose and spilling into her lungs. A burning sensation bloomed in her chest and she felt a scream rising in her throat.
She couldn’t help it—she pushed back against the firm hand now cupping the top of her head. The hand slipped away and she burst to the surface, gasping and coughing as she struggled to fill her lungs with air.
A strong arm closed hard around her throat, pulling her back against Sir’s chest. “You displease me, M,” Sir said, his mouth close to her ear. “Resistance is disobedience, and disobedience must be punished.” M squeaked with fear as the arm tightened painfully against her throat. She had displeased Sir. She would now pay the price. That was the way it was. It was the way it always had been.
No, a small voice whispered from somewhere deep inside her. Once there was a different way. But the voice was silenced as Sir leaned forward to open the drain and then pulled himself up from the water, dragging M along with him. He hoisted her out of the Jacuzzi, setting her none too gently on the bath rug beside it. She remained huddled and dripping on the rug as Sir dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist.
Hooking his strong hands beneath her arms, he pulled her upright and marched her to the full length mirror. He stood just behind her, holding her shoulders. M closed her eyes, not wanting to see.
“Open your eyes,” Sir commanded. “Look at my slave girl. Look at the girl who has disgraced herself with her disobedience. Look at the girl I am going to punish.”
Equal parts shame and terror flooded M as she forced herself to look. Because he was watching her in the mirror, she didn’t dare slide her eyes away, as she usually did when confronted with her image.
In front of her stood a slender girl, all the fat she’d once carried melted away under Sir’s intense regime. M took no pleasure in the sight. Her flesh was covered in welts and bruises, some fresh, some faded, but flesh heals, and M understood she needed to be disciplined and punished in order to please Sir.
It was the slave girl’s face she hated to see, with the haunted eyes that appeared too large for her face now, and the bald head covered in a dark fuzz that Sir shaved away once a week. She had once had beautiful hair, she remembered. It had been her best feature, and Sir had taken it away.
This thought troubled her, because along with it came a feeling she tried very hard to avoid—anger. Anger only caused her pain, because it opened wounds best left undisturbed. And it wasn’t right to be angry with Sir. She belonged to Sir. He was the Master of her body and soul. He allowed her to serve him. She lived for him. Without him, she would die.
~*~
Ellis stood behind M, drinking in the sight of her. He had taken an innocent and completely untrained girl and turned her into an obedient, deeply sensual submissive woman who craved whatever he gave her, be it pleasure or pain. She worshipped his cock each morning with ardent devotion, and submitted with grace to whatever delicious torture he could devise. She understood now that her very life depended on him. She was enslaved, mind, body and soul, and the realization thrilled Ellis to his bones.
True, she had resisted being submerged under the water, but that was just her survival instinct coming to the fore. She’d actually stayed down longer than he’d expected; he’d been within a few seconds of letting her up. Still, he would have to punish her, because she had disobeyed him. He’d learned that it was essential to be consistent and firm. They would work daily on submersion, he decided, until she was able to stay under as long as it suited him.
What the hell are you doing? You could kill her. Ellis shook off this unwelcome voice that occasionally managed to insinuate itself into his thoughts. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had abducted a woman and no one was the wiser. He’d listened and watched the news for weeks after she’d arrived, and there hadn’t been a peep. Mia Roberts had fallen off the grid, and no one noticed or cared.
He’d extended his leave of absence from the firm for a second month and then a third, though he did keep in constant touch from home via internet, phone and email. He’d let it circulate that he had cancer and was undergoing treatment. Along with the outpouring of sympathy and get well wishes, his employees had settled into a routine without his physical presence. Things seemed to be humming along so well, he was considering early retirement. After all, he had everything he wanted right here at home. M filled his every need. She was his obsession, and he couldn’t get enough.
Shaving her head had been his first stroke of true genius. As he cut her glossy hair until only an inch remained and lifted the trimmer to smooth away the stubble, a curious thing had occurred. M had seemed to break in front of his eyes, the last sparks of defiance and resistance snuffed out for good when the final lock fell to the ground. It was at that moment, Ellis believed, that M had accepted her lot. From that moment forward, she’d progressed in her training beyond his wildest dreams.
He was never at a loss for a new torture or trial for his sub. He had slowly built up her tolerance for pain and deprivation. She could handle being tightly bound and caged for hours at a time. She could take a whipping that once would have had her squealing and wailing like a stuck pig. And she not only took it, she took it in silence, and thanked him afterward by worshipping his cock, balls and asshole, only stopping when he pushed her away.
She no longer fainted at the sight of her own blood, and she didn’t hesitate to pee or move her bowels in front of him. He was truly the Master of her body and soul, and he could sometimes hear her whispering her mantra as she lay in her sleep cage at night. She belonged to
him utterly and completely, and the realization filled him with a dark, hot rush of power that made him feel as if he could dominate the world.
Still, she had disobeyed him by pushing back against his hand, and for that she had to be punished. He would use the punishment as a chance to further her training. The coffee he’d had that morning had gone right through him, but rather than pee in the toilet, he had a better idea. “Get back into the tub for your punishment.”
M’s expressive eyes widened with fear at being ordered back into the now empty Jacuzzi, but she obeyed. “Lie down on your back, feet flat. Spread your knees and arch your hips so I can see your cunt. And open your mouth.” He waited while the slave girl obeyed. “Hold that position. I’m going to piss on you. If you move even a fraction of an inch, you’ll be soundly beaten and then put in the punishment cage without food or water until it pleases me to let you out.”
Ellis positioned himself beside the tub and took his cock in his hand. He moved the strong stream of urine over her body, spraying her cunt and breasts, and then aiming at her face. M squeezed her eyes shut, but kept her mouth open as urine splashed over her cheeks and into her mouth. And though he could see the tremble in her limbs, she didn’t move a muscle.
Pleased, Ellis shook away the last drops and leaned over the tub to turn on the cold water. To complete her punishment, he hosed her down with an icy blast of water. Then he lifted the shivering, dripping girl from the tub and placed her on the bath rug. Straddling her chest, he pushed his throbbing shaft into her mouth and fucked her face. When he came, she gratefully swallowed every drop.
“Thank you, Sir,” she breathed, and he knew she meant it.
~*~
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Possible purchase
Dear Prince Kamau,
I have been following your website with great interest for some time. Your tips on D/s have been invaluable to me as I forge a bond with my sub girl, M. M and I have been together for about six months now and she has become my 24/7 submissive. While I have relished the experience of training M to submit and serve, I confess that I don’t have the heart or inclination to start at ground zero with a new sub. Perhaps I am old-fashioned in this regard, but M will always be first and foremost in my heart. She is not only my slave girl, she is my lover and my confidante. She is my soul mate.
That said, we have been talking at some length about this, and we both agree we would like to bring a trained submissive into our household, someone we would of course love and cherish as our own. I have been perusing your page of potential girls for placement, and, as I am a man of means, I would have no trouble meeting the necessary financial obligations associated with the procurement and care. I am especially interested in slave Zahara, if she is still available for placement.
I look forward to your reply.
Regards,
Master E
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Possible purchase
Dear Master E,
Thank you for your interest in my website. I would like to clear up a possible misperception regarding my site and the placement of trained submissives in worthy homes. The misperception comes in the form of your subject header regarding a possible “purchase”. I do not traffic in the sale of human flesh. If I were to place a submissive with you, that placement would be entirely voluntary for all parties, and any monies exchanged would be placed in an account for sole use by the submissive in question. As long as we are clear on this subject, I would be happy to discuss a potential placement with you.
Let us begin a dialog. If I determine you are suitable as a Master for one of my girls, you will be welcome to come to my island for a personal interview of all parties concerned. I would welcome your submissive, M, as well. Just as we can tell so much about a parent’s skill by the behavior of their children, so can we learn much about a Master by the behavior of his submissive. As I hope you would agree, love is a crucial element in true submission, and a D/s relationship devoid of love is like a flower in the desert, filled with potential, but unable to flower.
The closest airport is Maputo International in Mozambique. I will send a private boat to transport you to my island, where you will be my guest. Assuming all goes well, we can make placement arrangements at that time that meet with our mutual satisfaction.
Meanwhile, please complete the attached questionnaire, which will allow me to better assess your level of expertise and experience. As I am sure you would agree, trust is the most essential component in any consensual D/s relationship. I trust that you will answer each question thoroughly and honestly. There is a questionnaire for your submissive, M, as well, which she should complete without assistance from you. I look forward to your responses.
Until then, I remain yours,
In peace,
Kamau
Chapter 9
“No!” The word flew from her lips before M could stop it. She couldn’t take her eyes off the long, hollow needle Sir held in his hand.
Though he didn’t shout, Sir’s voice was hard as steel. “Are my ears deceiving me? Did I hear you say no?”
Remorse hurtled through M, but fear of the needle was stronger. Her usual mantle of calm acceptance had slipped, and panic prickled over her skin like a hoard of fire ants. Though she rarely thought of her past life, and in fact recalled very little of it, her deep-seated aversion to needles went deeper than memory, and she took a step back, wrapping her arms protectively over her breasts.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she managed. “But please, not the needle. I’ll do anything you say, but I can’t—”
In a flash he’d closed the distance between them, his hand gripping her hard by the back of the neck as he leaned his face close to hers, his words silencing her. “You will do anything I say, and there are no buts about it. This isn’t about what you can or can’t do. It’s about what I want.”
He let her go, and she stumbled back. All at once the anger drained away from his face, replaced by a disappointment that made her feel even worse. “You had been doing so well. That’s the reason I decided to bestow this honor upon you. These are for you.” He pointed to the gold hoops that lay in a small box, resting on dark blue velvet. “When I pierce your nipples and place this jewelry at your breasts, you will know you are truly owned. When the prince sees you, he will know by your piercings that you are a slave worthy of wearing my gold.”
The prince? What prince? This was the first M was hearing of a prince, and her curiosity almost made her forget her fear. She hadn’t seen or spoken to anyone but Sir since she’d come to him. Though she’d lost track of actual days or even what month it was, there was snow falling outside the windows now, and it had been summer when she’d first arrived.
Was someone coming to see them? A prince, no less? M was uncertain how she felt about this news. She touched her scalp, feeling a sense of loss she knew was disloyal. Sir liked her shorn—he often said so. It gave her nothing to hide behind, and a slave must never hide from her Master, even if unintentionally.
Of course M gave no voice to these thoughts. A slave did not speak unless asked a direct question, and then she only answered the question asked. Sir was watching her and, as if he could hear her unspoken questions, he continued, “That’s right. A prince. He is Master of an entire harem of fully trained submissives. He has a website, through which he sometimes places slave girls with other Masters. I’ve been thinking it was time you had a sister slave. Prince Kamau wants to meet me and he wants to meet you as well. If you can submit with grace and courage to this piercing, I will take you with me to meet the prince. He is the prince of a sovereign island nation off the eastern coast of Africa. Would you like to visit his harem, M?”
M had no idea how to respond. Her world was here, in this beautiful, locked house with the man who had become the focus of her existence. He had often told her they were all each other neede
d, and she had believed him. Now he was speaking of sister slaves and trips to other countries. A vague sense of almost mutinous discontent niggled at the edge of her consciousness. The feeling was dangerous, and she struggled to push it away.
Sir was staring at her and her stomach jolted with the realization he’d asked a direct question and was waiting for her response. Because she knew he would want it, she said, “Yes, Sir.”
“Then you will take the needle. If you resist, even in your thoughts, I will make you suffer, M, in ways you’ve never imagined.” At once, M’s imagination went into overdrive, conjuring up a dozen torture scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. She shuddered and let her arms fall to her sides in capitulation.
Sir nodded. “Here is what I expect from you, M. I expect you to hold your nipples taut for me, one at a time, while I slide the needle through, and then thread in the jewelry. It will be painful, of course, but nothing you can’t withstand.”
Sir placed the needle beside a second one on the small stainless steel tray. He lifted the domed lid from a second tray, revealing a bowl of plump purple grapes beside slices of creamy yellow cheese and a bottle of sparkling water, condensation beading on the green glass. Saliva began to pool in M’s mouth at the sight of the food, her empty stomach twisting.
“After the piercing,” Sir continued, “presuming you submit with the grace and courage I know you possess, you will be allowed to have all the food on this plate. If you resist however”—he placed the lid back over the food—“after a beating that will leave you bloody, you will be consigned to the punishment cage without food or water until you are ready to obey.”
Forced Submission Page 9
