Her Master's Courtesan

by Lily White

  “This particular flogger is my favorite for inflicting punishment. The rubber slaps at the skin much harder than other materials and these metal pieces are small barbs that scratch the skin. It won’t create a deep cut, but it can draw blood depending on how hard I swing.”

  His voice was emotionless, blank and void of compassion when he explained what he had planned. I started to cry again and I was desperate to stop the flow of tears. I remembered what he’d said to me in the bath, how my tears turned him on and I hated to give him the satisfaction of my fear and pain.

  “You will receive one strike for each act of defiance you exhibited early today. I’ll list them for you so there is no confusion after tonight regarding the actions that are not acceptable. You spoke back to me three times – one time in which you accused me of being a rapist. I take issue with that term and if I hear you use it again, I’m afraid our time together will abruptly come to an end.” He paused to allow me time to absorb the hidden meaning behind the threat. He must have noticed the comprehension in my eyes, because he began to circle around me, slapping the flogger against his hand while continuing to detail the reasons I was now being punished.

  “You looked directly at me – which, I will admit, you did not yet know is not allowed. However, the issue I am taking is the way you looked at me. When you are allowed the privilege of looking into the face of your owner, you will do so with reverence and love. Our treatment of you is a gift; we will shape you and mold you into a vehicle of absolute and total pleasure. You benefit from this as well. We provide you with everything you need – food, shelter, medical care – at our cost. You owe us respect each time you are granted permission to look in our eyes.”

  I cringed at his words, the muscles along my spine tightening from my disgust. I realized he was mad, completely out of touch with the reality of what he’d done. He’d taken my freedom, my choice and my life without my permission and then asked me to appreciate him for food and a roof over my head? I’d rather be starving and homeless than be touched by him or any other man in his group.

  “Your other two mistakes were flinching away and, most importantly, attempting to deceive me by faking an orgasm. Not only is it a lie but it is also an act that questions my intelligence and experience as a Master. I do not react very well to that.”

  He was suddenly in front of me again and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at his beautiful face. I hated that I considered him beautiful; especially when I knew that inside, he was vile and revolting. His very soul was tainted by the acts he committed against the women he’d enslaved. But yet, I couldn’t help but admire the way his hair fell like black silk over his forehead and also couldn’t help staring into eyes made bluer by the ink black of his lashes.

  I was transfixed and split apart, my mind reeling against his touch while something deep inside me – something primal and instinctual – kept my eyes glued to the way he walked, or the fluid motion of his muscles beneath his crisp, button-up shirt. The way he carried himself, or the way he spoke, his intelligence and his calm mannerisms – all of these were things obviously honed by him for the purpose of enchanting the women he trained. It fucking ripped me in two to realize that, even knowing the monster hidden behind the smooth and effortless surface that I still, on some deep-seated level, was attracted to him.

  “By my count, that is six strikes against you. Therefore, I will administer six blows across your ass and your legs; three each in both areas. Once I am done, your punishment has ended. If you are good, if you don’t defy me while I administer the strikes, I’ll make you feel good by granting you the feel of my hands, my mouth…” He stepped closer, his face mere inches from mine. His minty breath brushed across my face when he finished, “…my cock.”

  My eyes traveled down the sharp edge of his jaw, the black stubble that shadowed his cheek. His face appeared like it had been sculpted or chiseled by a skilled artist. Every feature on him was distinctly masculine; the deep set of his eyes, the straight line of his nose, the perfect and full lips that I remembered were soft when he’d dragged them along my neck. I shivered at the memory and attempted to shake away the spell it felt like he’d wrapped around me.

  “Are you ready, pet?”

  I shook my head in response, my lip trembling violently as tears ran over my cheeks. He smiled, reaching up to smooth the tears over my skin with his thumb.

  “Are you sure that’s the answer you want to give me?”

  His conditioning had already started to set in because I instantly shrunk back in fear, realizing my mistake. “Yes, Master … I mean, no, Master.” I was desperate to gain control of myself, to seize myself back from the blanket of soul consuming panic. “No. That’s not the answer I want to give you.”

  I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and then opening them again when I breathed out, “I’m ready to be punished.”

  My scream didn’t seem real. As the first strike fell over my bottom, the rubber slapping hard against the skin and each barb scraping its way across the flesh already sore from the paddling the night before.

  This was worse than the paddling, the combined pain of the rubber and metal, the horrid sound the flogger made when it came in contact with my skin – it was a nightmare come alive and I pulled on the restraints, desperate to shield myself from the next blow.

  He waited a moment, allowed the tension in my shoulders and arms to ease before he landed the second blow over the back of my legs. My knees bent immediately and I dropped down. His arm came around like a steel band over my abdomen, picking me back up and placing me on my feet. He moved forward so that I could see him, his eyes following the clipped chain.

  “I’m going to remove these now; I don’t want to risk unnecessary injury by the way your body is responding to punishment. Besides, leaving them on for much longer could damage the tissue – and we wouldn’t want that.” He grinned and anger filled me at his amusement. He looked up at me, “I absolutely adore how your body responds. This may hurt a bit.”

  Quickly, he loosened the first clamp and when the blood rushed back into the nipple, the pain was too intense. My head fell back and my body shook. He loosened the other clamps while I blinked back tears. He didn’t speak when he returned to stand behind me.

  The chains attached to my restraints shook when he started again. A blow to my ass followed by another to my legs. I screamed again and fell, losing my footing each time I felt the ungodly pain of the straps over my skin. I fought to stop the rising bile in my throat. I’d never experienced pain like this in my life, never had someone strike me in anger or rage.

  His hand brushed down my back as I struggled to climb back to stand on my feet. “Two more, pet. Then you’re done.”

  I clenched my teeth and when he noticed the tension in my jaw, he walked away, returning again to insert the ball gag in my mouth.

  “Bite down on this. I would hate for you to break your pretty teeth.”

  One and then another, the strikes against my skin felt like fire. I imagined my skin being ripped open and I bit down onto the gag, screaming from between clenched teeth. My body convulsed from the pain and I felt him immediately release the restraints, catching me as I fell towards the ground.

  He carried me to the table laying me flat on the surface of the wood. He’d moved the silk cloth and other items out of the way, but I saw his hand move to grab the tub of balm. Placing it beside me, he moved to the sink, wetting a cloth and bringing it back to rub it across my injuries. I whimpered at the contact yet I relaxed in response to the feel of the cool water against my inflamed skin. My legs trembled violently and I vacillated between hot and cold. He removed the gag after rubbing the water over me and my teeth chattered against themselves from the sensation of my jaw being freed.

  His mouth was by my ear instantly. “Calm down. You’ll go into shock if you don’t calm down. I didn’t even break the skin. It’s your fear that is hurting you more than the blows.”

  His words sounded like they were being s
poken through a tunnel and my vision was blurry from the tears that wouldn’t stop flooding from my eyes. He stood above me, rubbing his hands in circles over my back, speaking soothing words that I couldn’t comprehend.

  He unscrewed the lid from the jar and scooped out a large amount of white cream. The minute it touched my skin, I hissed out a breath in relief. The cold cream immediately removed the flame from my skin. He rubbed it over slowly and I melted onto the hard wood of the table. After a few minutes, the pain ceased, but my breasts still hurt and I couldn’t help myself – I sobbed. Long and hard, I broke apart completely on top of the table. The adrenaline had dissipated from my veins and I was left a shattered mess. I was angry with him, with life, with myself for having gone out to that fucking park to study with my friends. I cried about how unfair life had become, about how I’d never see anything that I loved again. I cried because I was just introduced to the life I would live from now on – and the pain that I would endure each and every day until I was no longer breathing.

  The room was dead quiet, but I knew he stood behind me watching me cry. The bastard was probably enjoying it, getting off on the fact that he’d overpowered a woman half his size and believing himself somehow greater for having done so. When he finally touched my leg, I jumped and when I heard his quiet laughter, the tears poured faster and heavier from my eyes. He was amused once again with my behavior, with my reaction to the pain he’d inflicted.

  “It wasn’t that bad, pet. I barely used any strength in those strikes. Your body…” His voice trailed off and I swear I picked up deference in his tone. “…is so responsive – to sex, to pain, to pleasure and fear. Almost as if it operates completely separate from your mind.” His hand ran up the back of my leg, large and soft, the fingertips trailing down between my thighs but stopping just before he touched the skin where I’d been flogged.

  “Can I go in my room now?” I hated the absolute darkness of the room, I hated the silence and the loneliness and the hopelessness of that fucking room – but it was better than the pain. It was better than the punishment he enjoyed inflicting on me.

  He breathed out heavily above me. “No. And I’m pissed off by your question.”

  He brushed his hand over the tender skin of my ass and I flinched forward, my hip bones grinding against the solid wood of the table.

  “There are several issues with what you just asked. First, was the manner in which you asked it – angry, disgusted, attempting to get away from your Master rather than submitting to his will. This is not about you, it is not about your pain or your frustration; it’s only about what I want.” He leaned down so his face was next to mine. Even though he whispered his next words, his anger was crystal clear. “Don’t you think that if I wanted to put you in your room, I would have done so?”

  He pushed himself back up and began retrieving items from the table. I didn’t look up to see what he grabbed. I didn’t want to know what he planned next.

  “The second issue with your question was the form of the question itself. For it to have been considered acceptable, you should have asked if it pleased me for you to return to your room. You would have also ended that question with the term Master as I have now instructed you three times. Considering that small mistake on your part, I do not feel at all guilty that I have to finish the punishment I had planned for this tonight. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me that you are still acting like a little bitch!”

  His shoes thudded softly against the floor when he returned to my side. I heard the sound of heavy objects being placed by my feet.

  His hand brushed over the tender skin of my legs and when I attempted to move away, he grabbed the back of my thigh, digging his fingertips into the skin and muscle. I cried out at the pain.

  “Do not move away from me! I’ll make the pain worse when you do.” The baritone of his voice was edged in steel and his words cut against my thoughts as much as his flogger had cut across my skin.

  He rubbed his hand over the injured skin, stopping only when my body jumped in response to his hand coming into contact with the scratches I knew the metal barbed tips of his punishment had created.

  I was surprised when he spoke again because his tone had changed drastically. Instead of the demanding, angry tone he’d used before, he now spoke quietly, affectionately – it was the tone a lover used when whispering romantic words in bed.

  “I love the color of the marks on your skin; such a pale, yet rosy red. It’s beautiful against the smooth cream shade of your body. You resemble a dual toned flower, soft and muted tones that complement each other and provide a sense of ease in the lucky person who is fortunate enough to see it.” He grew quiet for a moment, still softly rubbing his hands over me.

  I hated him, I couldn’t stand what he was doing to me and I wanted to give it back to him in the same manner he gave it to me. But somehow, despite that, I was consoled by the new tone to his voice – it was smooth and soft, the type used to induce calm in the stormy mind of the person towards whom it was used. My eyelids felt heavy and my heart rate slowed. I breathed out a sigh of relief to know he was pleased once again.

  I heard metal softly scraping against metal, punctuated by the click of ball bearings locking into place. It was reminiscent of the way a tripod would sound when you pulled the extendable legs into place. I wanted to look back to investigate, but I was too hurt by the flogging to move.

  Leather, thick and soft was wrapped around my ankle, tightened and fastened into place. He spread my legs apart, eventually wrapping my other ankle with another leather cuff. When he released my leg I tried to close my legs but something was preventing me from moving them. I felt his hands on my hips next; he pulled me down so that my spread legs fell from the table. My feet hit the floor and I struggled against whatever it was he had locked between my legs.

  As he was leaning over to grab my hands, he said, “That’s a spreader bar between your legs. You won’t be able to close them. Bend your fingers.”

  He pushed my hands towards the other end of the table, forcing me to grasp the edge.

  “Be sure to keep your hands where I’ve left them. If I see them move from that position, I’ll have to flog you.” He paused, collecting the objects on the table next to me before he added, “And I’m sure you don’t want to have to go through that again.”

  I heard him step back from me and the sound of the shutter made me jump. Brilliant light flashed against the wall that I was facing and I clenched my eyes shut attempting to ignore the fact that he was documenting every fucked up thing he did to me.

  Eventually, the sound stopped and the bursts of the flash, luminous and blinding, quit bouncing off the wall. He was behind me, standing quietly and the tension in my body increased when I panicked, wondering what he’d do next.

  A single finger ran down the middle of my back.

  “Do you realize how beautiful you are? Especially like this – helpless and bound.”

  His finger ran down along my bottom, eventually making its way along the crease. He spread the cheeks and tsked.

  “Looks like I was a little rough with you last night. I’d apologize but in reality, it’s your fault. You have no idea what your body does to me. I wouldn’t say it’s overpowering because you can’t control me in any way – not even during sex, but I will say that you have something very special tucked between your legs and it’s something that will be valued by the man who ordered you. In fact, I may be asking too low a price, I do believe I’ve outdone myself.”

  He pulled his hand away for only a moment. I felt him spread the cheeks again, and I lurched forward when the cool cream met my skin.

  “This is lubrication. I want you to relax while I insert the plug. I want to know what my pet looks like with her tail.”

  The cold, conical tip pressed against me and I flinched at what felt like ice against my skin. The area burned from his previous assault and I whimpered against the table, wanting so badly to fight, but knowing I could never win.

 
When he pressed it into me, I cried out again. My fingernails dug into the wooden surface and my knees gave out. He caught me by the hips, holding me still. I tried desperately to close my legs, but the bar he had locked to my legs left me exposed and vulnerable.

  One of my nails broke off from the force of my hold on the table. I bit down on my lip in response to the pain in my finger. It amazed me how much pain I was being forced to tolerate, how much this psychopath thought that the human body could endure.

  He pulled the metal plug away and massaged the area with his finger. “Calm down, pet. I suggest you relax unless you want this to hurt. One way or another it’s going in. You are in control of the intensity of the pain when it does. I could easily shove it in now while you’re all clenched up and I’d tear even more skin as a result.”

  There was a distinct click of metal against wood when he set the plug on the table. His hand slipped between my legs and he pushed up against the slick skin with his fingers, finding his way to my clit and pressing down softly.

  It was too much. Even though it was nothing more than a feather light touch, it felt like lightening shooting up from his finger. My hips bucked against the table and a strangled moan escaped my lips. I rested my forehead against the cool wood trying to stay still, to remain calm – but the sensation was too much. I swung my hips trying to escape the pressure of his finger. He grabbed my hip with his free hand, holding me still.

  He laughed. “I bet that does feel good. I’ve taken something that was sensitive to begin with and made it even more so from the use of the clip.” His fingers dug into the skin of my hip and he spoke again, with a warning in his tone.

  “Stop bucking against me like a wild horse, I haven’t given you permission to move.”

  I couldn’t stop. Every instinct in me was telling me to get away, to stop the agonizing sensation of his hand. My body shuddered and I bucked against him again.

  “I told you to stop moving.” Dangerously low, his voice rolled over me.