by Lila Dubois
Master Clay touched my back, urging me forward. For a second I resisted before giving in and letting him push me another foot closer.
“You’re reluctant.”
“I’m sorry, Master Clay.” My voice trembled. “I’m…”
“You’re scared. Aroused and scared.” He stroked my breasts as if I were a cat he was petting. “I will show you how it works. Remain where you are but spread your legs. Arms behind you, cross your wrists one over the other at the small of your back.”
I did as he ordered, waiting as he inspected my posture.
“Arch your back, push your breasts forward. Better.”
With the posture belt on I was aware of how my back arched, aware of my rib cage and each breath I took.
“This is a St. Andrew’s Cross. As you can see it’s not a true cross but an X. The lower pieces are longer than the top, ensuring that a sub’s ass is blow the center when bound to it. This ensures easy access to her pussy and ass.”
Master Clay circled the cross, moving between shadow and light. His eyes never left me. He reminded me of a panther stalking prey in the jungle and I was the prey—prey so foolish and eager to feel the panther’s touch that I’d go willingly into the trap.
“This one is more elegant than most.” He stopped by one side and tapped his foot on something on the floor I couldn’t see. The cross rotated back, the lower pieces lifting until it lay flat like a bed. Another tap of Master Clay’s foot and it rotated back to vertical.
“There are a few more little tricks, but I find that this offers me complete control over a sub’s body and the flexibility to improvise within a scene.”
Master Clay started pulling open the Velcro straps. Each rip made me flinch. When he was done he faced me.
“Well, Leona? Are you ready to really submit?” He gestured to the cross.
Before I could give in to the fear I walked into the light. “Yes, Master.”
His lips quirked. “Turn, back to the cross. Stand on these steps.”
I backed up until my skin hit cold leather. I reached up and held the upper pieces as I stepped up onto the small platforms on the bottom of each leg of the cross. The posture spread my legs lewdly. My pussy throbbed.
“Lovely.” Master Clay dropped to one knee and strapped my legs down at ankle, below the knee, above the knee and thigh. Next he added a strap across my waist, over the posture belt. The second layer across my midsection made me feel as if I couldn’t take a deep breath. I found myself breathing quickly and only from the top of my chest. Somehow that seemed to make me more aroused.
“Raise your arms, lay them along the upper pieces.”
I did as he ordered. Instead of Velcro straps he attached short chains to the D-rings in the cuffs, meaning my arms were far less fettered than my legs.
Master Clay took a step back, examining his handiwork. “There’s something missing.”
He took the collar from his pocket. It wasn’t until that moment that I’d realized all we’d done was talk about the collar.
“As I was saying, a permanent collar isn’t a physical thing, though it can be. To be collared is to give up all control.”
I opened my mouth to ask something, but remembered my orders and pressed my lips together.
“Very good, Leona, but I’m curious to hear what you were about to say.” He slid the collar around my neck, buckling it in place. “You may speak freely until I say otherwise.”
The weight against my neck was unfamiliar and almost frightening. “Thank you, Master Clay. The collar is when a sub becomes a slave?”
He tipped his head to the side, seeming to consider my question. Rather than answer, he went to the cupboard. When he came back his hands were empty, but his left pocket budged slightly.
“Slavery as opposed to submission can mean many things. A collared submissive is not necessarily a slave. While a submissive gives herself to a Dom when she is collared she may have hard limits that her Dom would not cross. I had a lovely sub named July who wore my collar for a few years.
“July enjoyed public spectacle and being shared pushed her deep into sub space, though she did not necessarily enjoy it. Once she was collared I shared her regularly. I knew it was not a hard limit for her, though it was not something I would have done if we were merely playing. Do you understand?”
“But…did she like it?”
“Like?” Master Clay raised one eyebrow. “I liked it, and she was serving me.”
The reprimand was clear in his words. I dropped my gaze, embarrassment heating my cheeks.
“A slave is often a woman who enjoys degradation play. I do not. So often slave girls are a dirty mess. I don’t enjoy that aesthetic.”
I was still pondering what he’d said when Master Clay took a small white object from his pocket.
“Do you know what this is, Leona?”
I looked at it—the size and shape of a large egg with a wire coming out of one end.
“No, Master.”
“This is an egg.”
“A chicken egg?” The question popped out of my mouth before I had time to censor it.
Master Clay laughed—a short, barking sound. “No. It’s called an egg due to its shape. This one vibrates.” He held up a little box connected to the egg by a wire. When he flicked it on I heard the hum of vibration.
“The egg goes in your vagina. The vibration will be enough stimulation to keep and heighten your arousal, but not allow you to come.”
My whole world had shrunk until it was nothing but his words, his mastery.
“I will spend some time inspecting your body. I may choose to use you or I may choose to test some of your pain limits. The egg ensures that you will not pull away. Arousal is a drug, perhaps the most dangerous one. It inhibits the self-protective instincts, decreases inhibition and makes a sub easier to control.”
I wanted to push back on his words, wanted to say that he was wrong, that I was more than that, that I wasn’t so easy to control. But I was afraid he was right. Even now I was aware that if my body hadn’t been pulsing with need I would have been disgusted by his casual arrogance and dismissal of me and my self-possession.
That part of me was gone. No, not gone. Lying dormant until I’d satisfied my submissive.
Master Clay rubbed the blunt tip of the egg over my lower belly, then slid it down my pussy lips. I strained to lift my hips, to fuck myself on the toy, but the restraints didn’t allow me to move.
I moaned as he pressed the egg up into my body. The fullness felt good—it was a tease of what I really wanted, which was to be fucked. I’d never craved a man’s cock pounding into me. I craved kissing and fingers and lips on my clit. Usually after foreplay I lost interest, but right now I knew that if Master Clay fucked me I would feel something I never had before.
“What a lovely reaction.” Master Clay flicked the vibration on and deep inside me the egg started to rumble. “Lovely, just lovely.”
I couldn’t respond. I was too focused on trying to take what I was feeling and turn it into the orgasm I so desperately craved.
My eyes were closed, my entire focus on my pussy, so I only vaguely heard Master Clay walking away. I opened my eyes when he flicked my nipple.
“You have lovely breasts. Nice and firm. In future any lingerie I allow you to wear will need to display these lovely nipples.”
“Thank you, Master.”
“Your instincts are good, Leona.” He pinched the base of my right breast, then leaned down and took my nipple in his mouth.
I screamed in pleasure—the feeling was more intense than orgasms other men had given me. For a moment I thought I’d come just from that, but there was no relief, only more need, more want.
Master Clay switched to the other breast, sucking my nipple, biting it gently, then flicking it with his tongue. When he pulled back, the tips of my breasts were damp.
He fisted a hand in my hair, holding my head steady. His free hand dipped into my pussy. Lifting his hand, he pre
ssed his index and middle fingers, both wet with my body’s juices, against my lips. I opened, accepting his fingers into my mouth.
He pressed them deep, deeper than I’d expected, and I started to gag.
“Swallow,” he barked. “I don’t allow gagging, and when you take my cock in your mouth I will expect to be able to fuck you as deeply as I want.”
I fought the urge to gag, my eyes watering. His fingers thrust in and out of my mouth. It was uncomfortable, and his hand on my hair meant I couldn’t escape, yet I found myself no less aroused than I had been a moment ago.
When he released me I sucked in a breath, the belt at my waist squeezing me as I did so, reminding me that I was owned, controlled.
Master Clay released my hair and went to the controls for the cross. A motor whirled to life and I could feel the faint vibrations of the machine, a pale echo of the vibration of the egg, as I was tipped back. There was nothing supporting my shoulders and head and I strained to keep myself up.
“Would you like some support for your back?”
“Yes, Master Clay.”
“There’s a price for that.”
“A price?”
“Yes. I will allow you to choose the payment. Your options are no orgasm tonight or wearing an anal plug for one hour tomorrow.”
“No orgasm?” I gasped.
“Is that your choice?”
“No!”
I let my head drop so I was staring upside down at the far wall. My shoulders and back were already starting to cramp. I realized this was a trap. He’d given me a choice, but it wasn’t really a choice at all.
“That offer has expired.”
“What?” I lifted my head. Master Clay stood in the shadows and I couldn’t see his expression.
“Your options, if you’d like back support, are now no orgasm tonight or an anal plug and nipple clamps tomorrow.”
“Anal plug and nipple clamps.” I rushed out the words, not wanting to have the price rise a second time.
“Good.”
Master Clay came around to my head, reached under the cross and released something. In the next moment there was a padded bar beneath my shoulders. My head was still unsupported, the weight of the collar increasing my discomfort.
“I intend to use your mouth, so I will not offer you head support.” He flicked my nipples casually, then circled to stand between my spread legs.
I lifted my head to watch as Master Clay knelt, now at eye level with my pussy. He examined me in detail, stroking my pussy lips, then spreading them open to examine my core. He pushed at the hood of my clit, then pinched the base, tugging my clit away from my body. Next he hooked his index fingers in me and spread me open, seeming to peer into me. It was strange, almost clinical, and that slightly forbidden feeling made it all the better.
There was a snap and I looked up to see him putting on gloves.
“I’m going to finger your ass. Have you ever taken fingers up your ass?”
“No, Master Clay.”
“Then what a privilege I have being the first to use you. I will go slower than is my wont, due to your inexperience, but I enjoy anal play, so it will be in your best interest to work to prepare yourself to be used anally on a regular basis.”
“Y-yes, M-master.” I couldn’t stop the tremble in my voice.
There was a click and then he laid an open tube of lube on my belly. I saw his fingers, encased in white gloves, glistening in the light.
He pressed open the globes of my ass. Two slippery fingers slid along the crease of my ass before he pressed one finger against my anus, holding it there. I was clenched tight, waiting for the pain.
“I want you to relax, Leona. Relax and push against my finger with the muscles of your anus.”
I tried to obey but I couldn’t. I was frozen with dread.
“Leona, relax.”
“I can’t, I’m scared.”
“Focus on the egg in your pussy. Can you feel it inside you?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Clench your pussy around it. Does it feel bigger when you do?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Now as you exhale I want you to relax your pussy.”
I blew out a breath, unclenching my muscles as I did so.
Master Clay’s finger pressed into my ass. I yelped, tensing once more. As I did so I was intensely aware of his finger buried inside me. When my anus clenched him, a little bolt of pleasure shot to my pussy.
“Oh!” I exclaimed.
“What do you feel?”
“It almost felt good, when I…when I realized that you…”
“You enjoy either the physical stimulation of my finger in your ass or what it represents—my understanding and domination of your body.”
A strange calm settled over me. That was exactly what I felt. Master Clay knew me, knew my body. I gave myself over, letting my head hang down. “Yes, Master.”
“Good.”
He withdrew his finger and pressed it in again, this time going deeper, opening me farther. When he added a second finger I cried out in pain. My body didn’t want to stretch that much. Master Clay spanked my pussy.
“Obey me, Leona.” His tone was hard, offering me nowhere to escape.
There were tears in my eyes as I forced myself to relax. I knew doing so would mean he’d push his big fingers in deep, opening me farther, making me hurt, but I did it. I obeyed. I couldn’t stop myself from crying as he entered me to the knuckle.
Even as it hurt I was aware of the way my pussy was throbbing. Master Clay bent his head and blew on my clit. My whole body shook as a wave of pleasure washed over me.
“You’re very aroused, Leona.”
“Please, Master. Please.”
“Please fuck you? Not yet. I wonder if you’re particularly responsive to anal stimulus, if you’re more masochistic than I suspected and it’s the pain that’s causing this response, or if it’s the domination—the fact that I forced you to accept this—that is eliciting such a strong reaction.”
I didn’t have an answer for him. All I knew was that I was humming with need.
“You’re lovely, Leona. Lovely and far more than I could have hoped for. I cannot wait any longer to use you.”
Master Clay withdrew his fingers from my ass. I breathed a sigh of both relief and disappointment.
“Leona, look at me.”
I raised my head, my tired neck muscles straining. He held up a slim glass plug.
“I’m going to plug your ass. This is a small plug, the same one you will use on yourself tomorrow. It will not hurt as much as my fingers.”
He poured lube on the tip, then lowered it between my legs. The glass was cold as it pressed against me. I clenched but the smooth, slippery glass slid in easily. I felt the widest part enter me, my body closing around the neck.
Master Clay rose and stripped off his glove, throwing it to the floor. His blue eyes seemed to burn from within as he circled around to my head. For the first time I wondered if he wasn’t as controlled as he seemed.
He was carrying a crop and I wondered vaguely where he’d kept that, but in the next moment I couldn’t think about anything except what he was about to do. Master Clay unfastened his pants. He didn’t push them off, didn’t take off his shirt. All he did was pull out his cock, which was long and thin—the longest cock I’d ever seen.
“Open your mouth.”
I was looking at him upside down, my head perfectly level with his cock. Surely he didn’t mean that he wanted me to give him a blowjob like this? I started to say something but he jammed his cock against my lips.
“Open,” he barked.
I opened my mouth, my head falling back. His cock slid past my lips. There was no time to get used to it, no way to control his pace or thrust with my hands. Master Clay’s cock slid along my tongue, pushing against my throat. I started to gag.
Crack.
The crop struck the inside of my thigh. I hadn’t seen it coming and I jerked in my re
straints. He struck me again on my other thigh.
“Swallow,” he demanded. “In this position you should be able to take my cock into your throat.”
I tried to swallow around the head of his cock but it was hard. He pulled back and I sucked in a breath just in time for him to thrust in again. This time he held himself in place. My neck ached and I couldn’t breathe. Just as I started to panic he pulled back.
Master Clay withdrew his cock, then dropped to a crouch, meeting my eyes. It was disconcerting to look at him like this from an upside-down position. “Leona, you’re disappointing me. When your Master gives you an opportunity to pleasure him your only focus should be on doing so. You’re more worried about your own discomfort than about pleasing me.”
I looked to the side. “I’m sorry, Master Clay.”
“You have one more opportunity. I am willing to offer you instruction and correction, but you need to prove to me that when I’m using you you’re focused on giving me pleasure.”
“I just got scared, Master.”
He rose to his feet. His cock waved above my face. Straining my tired neck muscles, I caught the tip in my mouth.
“Good,” he said, matching the word by stroking my nipple with the tip of the crop.
Again he thrust in, the head of his cock sliding down my throat. I gagged, panicked and struggled to take a deep breath. His balls were dangling above my forehead and the fabric of his slacks brushed my face. I was overwhelmed.
“Leona, focus.”
Crack, crack, crack. The crop struck my inner thighs. Tears sprang to my eyes. If he would just go slow, give me a chance to get used to this I’d be okay.
But Master Clay didn’t slow down. He withdrew just enough for me to draw a deep breath, but then he pushed back in again. This time I tried to relax and let it happen, but couldn’t stop myself from gagging. His cock pressed deep, past my gag reflex. I could feel him filling my mouth and throat. He was so deep that his balls rested on my face.
The tip of the crop stroked my nipples. I forced myself to stay calm until he pulled out enough for me to take a breath. Sooner than I liked he was thrusting in once more. This time when I didn’t struggle the tip of the crop rubbed my clit.
