Her Master's Courtesan

by Lily White

  Placing the first aid kit on the counter, I casually moved back towards the tub, sitting on its rim before dipping my finger into the warm water and watching as she flinched away from my hand. Another indiscretion – she was accruing quite the list. I knew I’d have to get creative and break her spirit even more than I normally would with other women. I was pleased; I enjoyed getting creative. It kept the job from becoming boring and monotonous.

  “You flinched away.” I stated the words as if I was doing nothing more than making an idle observation, but I could see in her eyes that she knew I was referring to the lesson I’d taught her the night before.

  “I want you to grab my hand.”

  She didn’t move and the water rippled around her in relaxing waves. Not willing to repeat my instruction I stared at her, giving her time to submit without force. Just like when she’d undressed, it took a minute for defeat to settle over her expression. Slowly, she reached out, grabbing my hand while at the same time donning a look of disgust for having done so.

  “Place my hand on your right breast.”

  Tears started to drip from her eyes and I cocked my head in feigned remorse. I reached out and caught one with my fingertip, bringing it to my mouth and licking it from my finger.

  “You should know that I adore the taste of a woman’s tears. Keep crying, it only pleases me more.”

  She blinked away her tears; still acting out in the only way she could against me. However, what was once amusing was slowly becoming aggravating and I was allowing her too much leniency.

  “My hand – move it to your right breast. Now.”

  Her hand jerked at the increased volume of my voice. I hadn’t lost my edge and emotion still was nothing I would give her, but I spoke with authority and warning to let her know I expected her to comply.

  Slowly, with her shaky hand, she pulled mine along the top of the water. The cuff of my sleeve was wet, but I ignored that fact, choosing to focus instead on her expression. It was obvious she clenched her teeth, that she held her eyes in narrow slits, her brows angled down between her eyes. She was angry, fiercely angry, and yet she still placed my hand over the perfection of her breast.

  “Squeeze my grip around it, then move my hand over the tip. Let it slide between our fingers and then move me down to take the weight of your breast.” I smiled down at her, playing the compassionate lover and taking what should have been considered a tender touch and turning it into agonizing abuse. Everything that had been good in her life before now had to be broken down and rebuilt as something wretched. It was an effective technique in the method of wearing a person down. Piece by piece, I would strip her of the things she once found pleasurable until she was left utterly devoid of happiness. Once she was an empty vessel - a mound of shapeless clay, wet and ready for the hands of a skilled sculptor - I would refill her mind with things that bring me pleasure, making her believe that those were the key to her happiness as well.

  She moved my hand as I had instructed and the expression on her face revealed the repulsion she felt to my touch; the touch she was not only allowing to happen, but in which she was an active participant. It was one thing for me to touch her; to fuck her and hurt her against her will because it wasn’t something she’d allowed – it had been forced. But to bully her into initiating the abuse - to not only make her accept it but to participate in it – that was an act that would make her an enemy of herself. It would plant the seed of doubt I needed inside her in order to make her doubt the person she was before I took her; to make her detest and reject who’d she’d previously been.

  I watched her body respond to my touch despite the obvious hatred written across her face. Her nipple hardened, slipping easily through our fingers. I appreciated how quickly her body reacted and I wanted to explore more.

  “Move my hand between your legs. Press my fingers up inside you. Bury me as far inside as you can. I want you to help me make you feel good … I want to know what you like.”

  I was manipulating her. I couldn’t care less what she liked or what made her feel good. The only thing I cared to do was warp her fragile mind.

  Slowly, her hand moved, pushing mine down past the swell of her breast, down further along the flat, soft expanse of her stomach. By the time my fingers brushed over the line of hair, she breathed harder, obviously distressed to a point of hyperventilating. She hated me for what I was making her do and soon, she would hate herself for allowing me to do it.

  She hesitated, taking a deep breath and blinking back more tears before finally blowing out that breath and forcing my hand down further, resting it over the sensitive skin. I kept my hand completely still and my eyes locked to hers to see if she would follow through with the second part of my command.

  Her body shook with the sobs she attempted to stifle, but it burst through her anyway, violent as a sudden storm. Her skin paled and her eyes closed tight, but she pushed my fingers forward and inside. As soon as I felt the warm heat slide over my fingers, I smiled.

  “Good girl. Now I want you to make yourself come over my hand. I want to feel the muscles of your tight cunt pulse over our fingers.” I wrapped my thumb over her hand to tighten the hold.

  Her body shuddered again, the water splashing at the sides of the tub from the force of her tremors. I imagined the effects on her psyche from the combination of the emotions that I knew rushed through her head – fear, anger, shame and degradation – a poisonous mixture that would cloud her ability to think and would damage another piece of her soul.

  When her attempt at masturbation was nothing more than a feeble wiggle of her hand to ‘please’ me, I became angry. I didn’t let the emotion show in my expression, but my heart raced against my chest as a result of it. She moved our fingers inside herself and then moaned liked she enjoyed what was being done – pretending to get off as if I hadn’t finger fucked dozens of women before her and knew what it felt like when a woman orgasmed.

  She must have thought I was an absolute fool.

  I pulled my fingers out of her suddenly and absent-mindedly rubbed my thumb in circles over her clit. Her brows narrowed slightly and she searched my expression in an attempt to understand why I’d pulled away. But eventually the motion of my hand caused her head to fall back, her breasts swelled and her chest arched up. True and seductive moans rolled from her throat and over her parted lips - moist and full from the steam of the bath. I took her to a point where I could feel the muscles of her core flex and contract from the outside, where I knew that if I slipped a finger inside, it would be enough to make her come. However, I left her there on that precipice, just out of reach of the peak that would release the tension from her body.

  Her eyes opened and she looked at me – part in hatred and part in frustration. I smirked in recognition of the battle that occurred between her body’s desire and her mind. My anger simmered inside me like the coals of a fire and I decided to teach her to fear me properly.

  “Put my hand on your throat, pet.”

  Her eyes widened immediately and she shook her head in protest of my instruction. I refused to repeat myself, choosing instead to squeeze her hand within mine. I could feel the delicate bones beneath her skin rub together, her face wincing in pain.

  Not being able to endure the pain, she cried out, “Fine!”

  Her word was unexpected and it stoked the simmering embers of anger into a rolling flame inside me. I relaxed my grip on her hand, waiting for her to obey. She brought my hand up slowly and placed it over her neck.

  I smiled - and then shoved her beneath the water.

  I held her down, watching as bubbles broke the surface. She kicked out with her legs, the chains hitting against the ceramic tub with an angry clangor. I laughed – knowing full well she could see me from beneath the surface.

  When the bubbles slowed and when her body convulsed and grew desperate for air, I brought her back up. She gasped loudly, her mouth opening wide, her lungs expanding to draw in the oxygen it needed. She choked on her own b
reath and I couldn’t take pity on her – so I shoved her under once again.

  The shock caused her to release all the air she’d been able to steal into her lungs almost immediately. She thrashed again, her nails digging into my wrist where I held her down. She stilled eventually and was barely brushing against consciousness when I raised her back up.

  I leaned down so that my face was close to hers. While she struggled to breath, I spoke my last warning.

  “Do not think I am stupid or patient enough to play your bullshit games. Any acts of rebellion, no matter how small, will result in injury or death. From this point forward your punishment will mirror your act of defiance. If you roll your fucking eyes at me, I’ll dig them out with a spoon. If you talk back, I’ll cut out your tongue. If you fake another fucking orgasm, I’ll remove your clit – DO YOU UNDERTAND ME NOW?”

  She nodded almost immediately, her lungs still wheezing at their effort to draw in air. I released my hold from around her neck and she fell back into the bath, splashing the water up over the sides and her skull cracking loudly against the rim of the tub.

  I straightened out my now soaked sleeves and pulled the plug to release the water. Standing up, I reached down to grip my fist into her hair and I pulled her out. She fell to the ground, attempting to ball over herself once her body had been dragged over the edge of the bath.

  Releasing my grip, I walked to the closet and selected a clean washcloth from the shelves and turned to toss the cloth at her face. She looked down at the small terry cloth square and then back up at me in question.

  “Use that to dry yourself off. When you are done with your body, you will then use it to clean up the mess you’ve made of my bathroom.”

  I caught her looking between the small square cloth and the veritable lake that spread across the tiled floor. Eventually, she accepted the instruction I’d given her and used the washcloth to dry her body. My eyes followed her hand when she wiped the soft black material over her skin. I admired the way her breasts moved as she reached, the way her legs split apart when she dried the insides of her thighs. I hadn’t paid much attention to the shape of her body prior to this moment. She had a slim, yet curvy figure – perfectly proportional and toned but still soft as a result of her supple curves.

  Her skin was pink from the warm water and I noticed a small birthmark on her right hip. It was light brown and shaped like a diamond.

  For an hour I watched her crawl along the floor, mopping up standing water and ringing the soaked cloth out in the bath. Once the last puddle had been cleaned, she looked up at me silently.

  “That’s good enough. Stand up, hand me the cloth and then follow me without speaking a word. I expect full compliance from now on.”

  She stood on shaky legs, and with tremors running over her body, she walked to me and placed the cloth in my outstretched hand.

  I reached out and cupped her breast, expecting her to flinch away. She didn’t and a brow arched over my eye at the sudden change in her behavior. Most men would have considered her easily broken – would have possibly gone easy on her considering her abject compliance.

  But I am not most men.

  “You’ve done very well since your last punishment. I’m afraid, however, that you’ve committed some additional transgressions this evening that will need to be addressed.”

  I leaned into her, my hand still cupping her breast, my fingers teasing the erect nipple.

  “I’ll make it less painful if you behave and hopefully, after tonight, I won’t have to punish you again.”

  I brought the knife down to flay the tender skin, separating the muscle from the bone and bringing my fingers to my mouth to lick away the blood that had seeped out from the cut. Most people have a natural aversion to blood – possibly they find the thick warmth to be repulsive, or maybe it’s the salt and iron flavor. But I’ve grown to crave it at times, appreciating the robust taste and the way it slides across the fingers and crimson against the skin.

  Glancing at her eyes every so often, I would smile as I continued to cut, my hands wielding the knife as masterfully as a surgeon. She blinked slowly and I could hear her stomach churning. Her arms and legs were bound to the chair by rope, her knees spread wide so that I could see every part of her. I’d placed a ball gag in her mouth and her full lips were stretched over the rubber with drool trickling down the side of her mouth.

  “I’ve had you now for a little over twenty-four hours. I bet you’re hungry.” I glanced at her again from where I stood in the kitchen preparing my meal. I loved to cook and viewed it as an art form all of its own. Manipulating ingredients to not only be pleasurable for the tongue, but for the eye as well. “I can hear your stomach from here, even over the boiling water and clanging lids.”

  The smell of fresh thyme and rosemary filled the room. I’d selected the herbs from the small garden I maintained in the sprawling yard behind the house – another hobby I enjoyed. Looking over my habits and likes over the years, I realized I liked to control many things. Food, plants, or humans - it didn’t matter. Mr. Grimly had been correct in his judgment of my persona. I like to dominate and I excelled in areas where domination is considered an art form.

  Returning my attention to the food, I tossed the filets into the heated pan to simmer in the mixture of spices I’d added only moments before. The meat sizzled against the heat of the steel, steam rising up and further dispersing the smell of the seasoned pan.

  Giving the meat time to cook, I stepped over to the table where Rebecca sat, my eyes flicking down to the silk scarf in the center of the table, under which I’d hidden the tools I’d chosen to use this evening. Her eyes followed mine and I reached for the silk, brushing my fingers across the smooth fabric.

  “Would you like to see what I have planned for you tonight?” I grasped the corner of the ruby red cloth, unfolding and revealing some of the toys I had placed on the table before leading her out of her room. I picked up the metallic silver plug to which a black tail had been attached. Holding it up for her to see, I asked, “Have you seen one of these before? Do you know what it’s for?”

  She shook her head, the drool dripping from her mouth faster now that the smell of the food permeated the air.

  “They call this a butt plug, although I have to admit, I hate that term. It seems too vulgar when spoken. I wish they’d come up with a different word for it, but that’s neither here nor there, I guess.” I placed the plug back on the table and picked up the leather collar. I held it up and her eyes widened, understanding slowly beginning to spread over her thoughts.

  “You are going to be wearing this very soon. I think it’ll look stunning against the cream coloring of your skin.”

  My dress shoes clicked along the floor as I approached her and I saw her body tremble against the ropes that bound her to her chair.

  Reaching around her neck to fasten the collar, I continued. “Normally, I don’t like to keep my pets bound – and, hopefully, within another day or so I won’t have to do so with you. Do you know why you’re tied up tonight?” The faint click of the metal fastener sliding into place caused her to jump. I stood back admiring the collar on her neck.

  Once again, she shook her head and I decided to indulge her by explaining exactly why she was being punished. “You displayed quite the list of objectionable behaviors when I attempted to bathe you this afternoon. Glaring at me in anger, rolling your eyes, talking back …” I brought my finger up to run it along the line of her jaw. “… All of those acts are ones that could get you killed, especially in the hands of a Master. I’ve trained many women over the years and I’ve lost the patience that I had when I was a novice; as have most other Masters in the group.”

  I returned to the stove to flip the meat while continuing to explain the problem with her previous behavior. “I didn’t react the first couple times you acted like a little bitch because I found it amusing. I like breaking strong women, it’s more of a challenge and I feel more powerful as a result.” I glanced at her.
“You see, everything that happens between us is about my ego, my pleasure and my satisfaction.”

  After walking back over to her, I sat on the edge of the table looking down into the deep green of her eyes. “I don’t know the man to whom I’ll eventually sell you. He may have a quick temper or be overly cruel. I’d hate to see a woman like you wasted or killed as a result of having allowed you that defiance. Your new owner will not find it as amusing as me. In addition to that, it looks bad on my reputation when you don’t behave. That’s why I have to punish you tonight so that you understand the consequences that come with your actions.” I reached out and tugged on the metal loop secured to the front of her collar. “If I remove the gag, do you think you can keep from getting mouthy with me this time?”

  She blinked slowly, allowing a single tear to escape her eye and roll down the skin of her cheek. Solemnly, she nodded yes and I reached behind her head to remove the gag. Placing it on the table, I grabbed a napkin and turned back to clean the drool that ran along her jaw and neck. “There, that looks much better.”

  A look of frustration flooded her eyes.

  “What’s bothering you?”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again. It was apparent she was struggling with something and my curiosity got the better of me. “Spit it out. What are you thinking?”

  “Am I allowed to ask questions?” Her green eyes blinked again and I smiled down at her.

  “I believe you just did.” I chuckled at my own response and then gave her an honest answer. “Normally, no. You are not allowed to speak unless spoken to and you are not permitted to ask questions unless they are ones meant to discover the desires of your handler. For instance, questions regarding what a man wants, or how you can please him, are allowed; but, general questions are not. If you are in the hands of a well-seasoned Master, you will not feel the need to ask questions, you will know what he wants based on what he says and does. However, given that you are new to this life, I will permit it for now.”