Her Master's Courtesan

by Lily White

  He made me that woman. He was on me so fast; I couldn’t shake the stupor of my shock. My eyes welled with tears and the pain of his grip burned into my face and throat. The things he said to me angered me … demanding that I obey, or submit or whatever else the sick bastard had instructed. I knew he was going to rape me. I could sense the excitement in his body. It was as if he emitted a pheromone that warned of the primal instinct for violence within him. My attraction to him became disgust and then he did something that broke me like I’d never imagined I could be: He used my own body against me. I wanted to vomit when he touched me for the first time. Every instinct inside me told me to fight. His questions drove me mad. Of course, I didn’t want him to fuck me and no matter what answer I gave, it was the wrong one - because there was no right answer. That bastard was toying with me from the minute he’d walked into the room.

  He made me orgasm three times before he finally violated me in a way I’ve never been before. I cried the whole time; mad at the way my body responded to him, at the way I had no control over the inferno he built inside, or the edge he pushed me over.

  I’d cried so much after he left that my lids felt swollen shut. I could barely open my eyes – not that I could see anyway with the heavy blanket of inky black that permeated the space.

  Minutes, hours, days could have gone by as I lay there. My mouth was dry and my hips ached from being held in the same position on the mattress. I attempted to shift my weight to alleviate the pain, but it only led to more discomfort on my wrists. From the stinging burn, I knew the skin was split.

  The door clicked open and light flooded in, blinding me from its intensity. His silhouette stepped into the doorway – broad shoulders, the same width of the frame, and a torso that angled down into a thin waist. He stood with his feet slightly apart and it only added to his large appearance. He was strong, I remembered that from when he’d lifted me off the mattress with one hand and held me against the wall.

  I turned my head into the pillow not wanting to see the man that stood in the room with me. I heard him step forward, heard the door close behind him and the sound of him picking the paddle up off the floor. I used my face to knock it away from me last night – I couldn’t stand the feel of the cold wood up against my cheek, reminding me of the pain he’d inflicted on my body.

  Another door in the room opened and closed, the distinct sound of a metal lock sliding shut.

  The silence was aggravating. I wanted to scream again, to cry or do something that would break up the suffocating nothingness of the cold room. I didn’t know where he stood and I didn’t know from which direction he would attack me again. I jumped when he finally spoke.

  “I’m going to release you from your binds. You will follow me to the bathroom without speaking and you will bathe yourself. Once that is accomplished you will follow me back into this room. If you speak or make a move other than what I specifically instruct, you will not like the consequences.”

  I heard steps approaching and when they stopped, his voice boomed out above me.

  “You will refer to me as Master. You will only speak to me when I’ve asked you a direct question.”

  I didn’t answer. Despite my nascent understanding that I was to submit to his demands, I couldn’t bring myself to respond and tell him that I would, in fact, submit. The idea rubbed across my thoughts like sandpaper – irritating and crude – the acts he’d already committed against me, making me detest him with such vehemence that I imagined returning to him the same level of violence. It was the first time I’d ever considered hurting another person and I felt the heavy weight of disgust with myself for believing that I would enjoy harming him, even though he was intent on harming me.

  He approached the bed and I felt his large hands freeing the thin cord that bound my wrists. When the cord finally slipped loose and my hands fell from the metal frame, I sucked in a breath in reaction to the pain of the air brushing up against my wounds. He must have noticed.

  “We’ll have to wrap your wrists after you bathe. I cannot see the severity of the injury in this room, but I will inspect them when we are in proper light. It is not my intent to mark your body with ugly scars. It was your own stubbornness that left me with no choice.”

  I scoffed and the breath blowing out of my mouth at the instinctive reaction surprised me. It was only natural for me to react; he kidnapped me, most likely drugged me, beat me and raped me after binding my hands – and now he stood here placing the blame for his violence on my actions? I couldn’t help but be appalled by his logic.

  He must have noticed my reaction as well, because he stopped loosening the chains around my ankles and the room grew silent once again. After a few seconds, I could no longer take the empty void created by the lack of light and sound in the room. I kicked my leg to hear the chain rattle and I felt his hand grip around the leg that I’d moved.

  Aggravation was apparent in his voice when he spoke, “I have, just now, returned to you your ability to move and the first thing you do with it is act in defiance.” It was a direct statement – not a question or a simple observation. No. He was making a point once again and my anger burst out of me when I realized what he was doing. His statement would lead somewhere, possibly to punishment or another lesson, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to give in and I would disobey if I felt like it. From what he told me the last time he used me, this would be my life from now on. I was nothing more than a tool and a cunt for his use. I realized quickly that death – regardless of how painful and violent it would be – was more appealing than living life as a vagina on legs, existing only to sheath his dick.

  I kicked out again with the other leg and he grabbed that one as well. He didn’t speak again, instead closing his fingers around my ankles, digging the nails into the skin and I cried out from the pain. His strength was astonishing; something I wouldn’t have imagined when I first met him. He seemed only to be a man of refinement; one who obviously took care of his body, but not one you would suspect could crush something in the palm of his hand. I attempted to pull my legs free of his grip, but it only served to make him squeeze tighter. I kept waiting for the telltale snap of my bone being broken, but it never came. The blood to my feet was being cut off by his grip and it felt like pins and needles in my toes. Eventually, I stopped struggling, tears once again falling from my eyes to realize the true futility of my situation.

  “I understand it is your natural instinct to want to disobey me. You’ve lived a life of privilege and freedom of choice; therefore I do not assume that you’ll easily release your hold on that freedom. However, with every act of defiance comes punishment. You must understand now, that in the new life I have given you, I do not want to punish you. You are the only person who can ask for it and you do so by doggedly holding on to that which I have taken away – by holding on to the belief that you have a choice. Remember what I’ve just told you and think about it when I do what I must now do.”

  I cringed at his words and realized their honesty when, instead of removing the chains at my ankles as he’d previously been doing, he removed them from the bed. I couldn’t see him but I could hear the chains moving.

  Without warning, I was dragged from the bed to the floor, landing hard on the solid surface of the cold tile and crying out in pain. My bare skin from beneath where my dress had bunched up was dragged across the rough surface of the floor and I reached out in vain, attempting to grasp onto any object I could find that would stop him from dragging me along.

  When we reached the doorframe, my head hit the frame as he dragged me through and he didn’t stop or hesitate in concern of the blow to my skull. I gripped around the wood with my fingers, but again, my strength couldn’t match his. He tugged once and my fingernails felt like they were being ripped from my hand by the force of his pull. Sharp tendrils of pain shot up my fingers and I released my grip instantly, pulling them to my body in an effort to stop the pain. I opened my swollen eyes against the light in the hall, but couldn’t fo
cus on the specific details. The hallway was also tiled and the length spoke of a large house. By the time we reached the bathroom, the skin of my hips burned from the friction against the rough stone floor.

  He secured the chain around a large iron pipe that ran the length of the wall and without speaking; he turned and exited the room. I blinked my eyes repeatedly in an attempt to bring the room into focus. By the time I was able to get my vision adjusted to the light and when I could make out the features of the bathroom, he returned carrying a large bucket, the contents of which I could not see. He placed the bucket on the other side of the room and walked to the tub to turn on the water. After plugging the tub, he watched as the bath filled, never looking at me until a few moments had passed and he turned the water off. Moving back to the bucket, he picked it up and dumped the contents into the bath.

  Ice.

  My eyes widened to see the frozen cubes falling into the water and I realized quickly that steam had not billowed from the water when he’d filled the tub. The water would be freezing.

  He finally turned to look down at me. His square jaw was set firmly and no compassion shone out from behind the deep blue of his eyes.

  I shook my head in refusal of what he planned to do. “Please … no. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”

  He didn’t give me time to finish my sentence before picking me up and dumping me unceremoniously into the ice bath. When the water touched my skin, I screamed, the sound loud and vicious, tearing at the tissue of my throat. I attempted to force myself up and out of the tub, but he held me down, immersing me in the frigid water. It felt like razors across my skin and my breathing became quick and erratic. My body trembled violently in a struggle to warm itself and I opened my eyes to see the lack of emotion in his.

  It was only when I’d stopped struggling against him – when my skin had turned blue from the slowing of the blood through my veins – that he picked me up out of the water, placing me on the cold floor, shivering in the water that dripped from my clothes to puddle around me. My teeth chattered so hard that I was afraid they would chip or break. Every muscle under my skin was agonizingly rigid. I could barely open my eyes enough to see him release the plug from the tub and allow the water to drain away.

  He looked at me after the last bits of my punishment gurgled its way down the drain. “Do you understand now?”

  I didn’t know how to answer his question. I knew from the game he played during our last encounter that whatever answer I gave would most likely be wrong – that it would lead to insufferable consequences. I was too afraid to answer and I gave him the response he’d requested before – I gave him silence.

  Once again – I was wrong.

  His hand slapped against my bottom and I screamed out again. The skin was raw from the paddling the night before and now it was sensitive and painful from my sluggish blood caused by the ice-cold water. It felt swollen and abused and my entire body jumped in response to the strike.

  “Answer me, pet. Do you understand now what your defiance will cause?”

  I nodded my head ‘yes’ – I was too afraid to choose an answer and voice it. He slapped me again and I jumped while shaking my head ‘no’, frustrated and afraid by not knowing what answer he wanted me to give. He slapped me a third time and I finally screamed out, “What answer do you want me to give you?!”

  He straightened up, standing above me like a giant. “There. That is the proper way for you to think … It only matters what I want. In this instance, I want you to refer to me as I have now instructed you twice. The proper answer to that particular question is ‘yes Master’.” He paused allowing me a moment to consider his words and absorb their meaning. “We’ll try this again: Do you now understand that defiance leads to punishment? That your actions will result in consequences you will not enjoy?”

  I looked up at him, defiance set behind my eyes when I spit out my response. “Yes – Master.”

  He grinned. “That will do for now. However next time, let’s try it without the scathing hatred. I will punish that as well.” His grin stretched into a wicked smile. “You’ll learn to love me.”

  I scoffed again and he arched a brow over his eye. Shaking his head, he commented under his breath as he turned to flick the water back on, “Some women take longer than others to learn their place, I’m afraid.”

  Aiden

  Her initial acts of rebellion amused me – I can admit that. I found her to be somewhat brave in her obvious defiance. It wasn’t the typical flood of tears or ear-splitting screaming that I was used to or would consider normal for a woman in her position.

  Flipping on the hot water, I stood by the tub patiently waiting for it to fill. My eyes flicked over to her every so often and I observed her mannerisms. She looked pathetic, lying on a cold tile floor in a soaked dress with a puddle of water spread out around her body. I would make her clean that puddle – it was her fault it existed and had she not rebelled, this experience would have been a lot smoother and cleaner as a result.

  She shivered on the ground, balling over herself to try and reclaim warmth to her body. She’d never find it until she removed the soaked clothing. Her eyes would glare up at me every so often with the spark of tenacity twinkling in the emerald green color of her iris. She’d looked away almost immediately when she noticed that I stared back in her direction. I trained my eyes on her, interested to see if she would bravely stare back at any point. She didn’t and when the water had filled to a point where I was satisfied, I turned the handle to shut it off.

  “Stand up and take off your clothes.”

  She finally looked up at me for more than a second. Her brows narrowed over her eyes and, like a spitting cat, she attempted to challenge me. “Why? So you can rape me again?”

  I smiled, shaking my head at her continued obstinacy. “You must like punishment. Is there a secret masochist hiding beneath the schoolgirl appearance you like to display? Maybe there was more to your fascination with that painting than you let on.”

  “Fuck. You.”

  My eyebrows must have shot to my hairline by my surprise. “I don’t mind that you insist on making my job harder. In fact, I appreciate a challenge and I thoroughly enjoy delivering the punishment. Do you have anything else to say? It would give me more of a reason to punish you harder than I’ve already planned.”

  My tone of voice was matter of fact as I explained the reality of the dynamic between us. She wanted to anger me, I could see that – but I wouldn’t allow her to invade my mind like I was invading hers. To allow another person to create any emotion inside you is the same thing as giving them power over you. I understood that part of human psychology; she, apparently, did not.

  She didn’t respond. Her wide eyes looked up at me and the spark of rebellion transformed into a dull shadow of defeat. She pushed herself up off the floor, water dripping from the fabric of her thin summer dress. I could see the white of her bra over her breasts from beneath the fabric and I made no move to hide my admiration of her body. She would have to get used to being viewed by men openly as an object for their pleasure and specific purpose.

  When she was finally standing, I watched her without repeating my instructions. She never made a move to remove her dress; her head facing down toward the floor, purposefully hiding her eyes. We stood for a few minutes – a complicated battle of wills silently occurring between us. I’ve played this game often; however, this woman was slightly different from the rest. She wasn’t shaking with the terror she should feel, almost as if she was wrapping herself in a protective blanket of anger and indignation. I couldn’t allow her to feel those emotions much longer – but I would allow her to feel them for this moment, solely because I found it to be entertaining.

  After a few minutes, her hands moved to the bottom of her dress and a small smile threatened the corner of my lips.

  “Oh, what the fuck ever. You’ll probably end up ripping it off me anyway.” She lifted the dress up and over her head – standing now in nothing
but her bra. I remained silent, waiting for her to remove the last bit of fabric from her body. Another minute passed and she huffed out a breath before reaching behind herself to remove the bra. When her tits bounced free, my cock twitched in my pants. They were impeccable – not too large or small, perfectly round with no stretch marks. The nipples were a beautiful soft pink and proportional to the weight of her breasts.

  “What glorious tits you have. I will enjoy very much sinking my teeth into the soft skin.”

  Her eyes shot up to mine, swollen and narrowed from her tears and rage.

  “Get in the tub.”

  She stepped forward hesitantly, the chain rattling at her ankles as she moved. Climbing into the tub, the chains were pulled taut from where they were secured to the wall. I unlocked them from around the pipe and allowed her to lower her legs into the water. I moved to a closet and obtained a washcloth and soap. Moving to the tub, I handed the items to her.

  “Clean yourself.”

  She shot another look in my direction and I added it to the list of indiscretions for which I would later punish her. I shook my head again and moved back to the closet to grab the first aid kit. Glancing back at her I noticed how she winced when the soap touched her wrists, but from what I could see, the damage to her skin was not that bad. It would heal in a day or two if I didn’t have to bind her again.

  However, judging by her current behavior – it was most likely that I would have to bind her again.