Lisa spread her legs, but she was breathing hard, and instead of the usual blank feeling of resignation and indifference, real terror roiled in her gut. Gilbert ignored it, or more accurately, was spurred on by it. He reattached the clamp, letting it bite into her tender clit, again making her scream.
“Take the pain,” he murmured into her ear, holding her close against his chest now in a lover's embrace. “Take it for me, slave. Take it for your master. You belong to me. Give into the pain, slave. Exalt in it. It's all you have. It's what you were born for.”
Lisa stilled in his arms, not because his words soothed her, but because it hurt less to stay still. The pressure of the clamp had the same effect now as on her nipples, and she found the sharp pain had dulled to a throbbing pulse that she could tolerate.
“Much better,” Gilbert crooned, still holding her close, grabbing her ass cheeks and squeezing and massaging them. He let her go, and this time took a dog collar from his trunk. He secured the collar around Lisa's neck. A long clip hung from the center, dangling against Lisa's sternum. Instead of attaching a leash to the collar, he pulled at the chain between her breasts, pulling it up and clipping it to the collar.
As a result, Lisa's nipples and clit were pulled painfully up, held taut by the chain secured to her collar. Every time she moved, the teeth ripped agonizingly against her sex. “If any of the clamps come off again,” Gilbert whispered, “I'll whip you till you bleed.”
He took the nasty single lash, the rubber one colored a bright garish purple. A sear of pain flashed across Lisa's ass and she jerked involuntarily, causing the desired increased pain in her nipples and especially her cunt. Again it landed, and again she jerked and felt the cruel bite of the teeth magnified.
As the lash continued to fall, Lisa's back and ass became a stinging wall of abraded flesh. Her nipples had numbed but her clit still throbbed with pain.
Then a strange thing began to happen. The lash was used no less vigorously, but for some reason the pain was gone. No, not gone exactly, but changed. Transmuted, somehow, into something different.
Pleasure? No, not pleasure precisely. Something more intense than mere pleasure, or mere pain. Lisa felt a curious calm descend over her. The panic that had seized her only a moment before seemed to dissipate, and her head fell back of its own accord. This actually increased the tension on her nipples and pussy, but she didn't seem to notice.
Or rather, it didn't seem to matter. She felt every stroke, and every pull of the chains, and yet she also felt her heart slow from its hammering crash. She felt her breath ease and slow, deepening into a slow pulsing rhythm.
Whatever was happening, it was welcome, and peaceful. Panic had completely subsided into calm, like a still pond on a summer's day, after the storm has passed.
A moment before writhing and gasping, Lisa went oddly limp. At first Gilbert continued to whip her, unaware of what was happening. He paused, wondering if she’d passed out. Yet she wasn’t slumped over. She was standing tall, breathing deeply and slowly, almost as if she were asleep. He stared at her, wondering what was happening.
And then all at once he knew. From his copious readings on the subjects of submission and masochism, he knew what he must be witnessing. Lisa was “flying.” She was in that curious submissive head space, as some of the so-called experts referred to it, where a sub could take huge amounts of pain and, while still experiencing it, process it on a different level. A sublime level.
His slave girl was flying! Thanks to him! Gilbert had had the courage and wisdom to bring his lover to this marvelous brink. He felt extremely pleased with himself, and began to whip her again.
But the break had been too long, and Lisa was coming out of whatever trance-like state she'd fallen into. Now she shrieked again as the lash struck her, and the teeth ripped against her. She renewed the dance, that old dance of futile avoidance, and was begging once again for mercy.
He'd do it again, Gilbert vowed to himself. He'd take her to that place again, and she would love him for it. But for now he'd had enough of whipping his slave. It was time for her walk.
Dropping the whip, Gilbert climbed up and released Lisa's arms. He removed the chain, but kept the cuffs, securing her arms behind her back. Lisa stumbled forward and almost fell, but Gilbert moved quickly enough to catch her.
“Come on, stop that. Stand up and open your eyes. It's time for your walk, little doggie.” So saying, he took the chain of her clamps and tugged it, leading her out of the room, each jerk making her gasp with pain. Just for fun he led his naked and chained girl around the house. “Be glad I don’t take you out back, little dog, and make you do your business in the grass.” He watched with amusement as she shot him a terrified look. He loved to jerk her chain, literally and figuratively. Not that he’d ever take her outside. Not until the night they escaped together into their new life.
They stopped at the door of the master bedroom. She had never been in his bedroom. In all this time, he hadn't deemed her worthy. Maybe tonight was the night? Maybe he'd let her sleep in his bed. After all, she had flown under his whip. She had succumbed to the infinite pleasure that pain could offer to the willing submissive. Maybe she had earned a night bound at his feet. He would have her wake him by sucking on his cock. Yes, that sounded hot.
He took her into the room, cluttered like the rest of the cottage with the bed, the bureau and an old armoire crammed with ancient suits packed in moth balls. Gilbert lead her in, refusing to let himself care what she thought.
He pushed her to a sitting position on the bed and carefully released the clamps, first from her nipples, and then her clit. Lisa hissed her pain, her hands flying to her nipples and then her pussy. She moaned, rocking as the blood suffused the tortured parts and reawakened the nerve endings. Gilbert sat beside her, smoothing her hair, pulling it back, enjoying the way it cascaded in soft waves down her back.
They would have to leave soon. His cash was running low. He would force her to withdraw her money. They would fly away to the Caribbean, where no one could ever track them down. She would be so thoroughly brainwashed, or trained, as he preferred to think of it, that she wouldn't dream of leaving him, and they would live out their lives in the bliss of a D/s relationship.
Gilbert was pulled from these idyllic thoughts by Lisa’s cracking voice. “Please, sir. Water.”
It had been quite a while, hadn't it? Yes, she could have water, and maybe something to eat. He'd let her eat here, in his bedroom, and then they'd have sex, and go to sleep together. Just like real lovers. But they were better than lovers. Far better.
He let her drink her fill, and empty her bladder in the toilet. Then he fed her a grilled cheese sandwich, forcing her to open her mouth for each bite, making her wait until he felt like dropping in a piece. Feeling especially expansive, he fed her another whole sandwich and the greedy girl ate every bite.
She smiled at him beatifically. “Thank you, sir.” He nodded magnanimously and they lay down together on his bed.
“It’s so soft,” she breathed. Yes, to her it must feel like the finest feather bed, after the hard, lumpy mattress she slept on each night. He stroked her skin and reveled in her closeness.
“Please, sir, may I ask a question?”
“Yes, slave,” he responded, feeling positively regal.
“What happened back there? Something happened to me. I don't know how to explain it.”
“You were flying. Remember your readings, the ones I sent you online?”
“What? Online? I don’t remember.”
Either she was lying or just stupid, but he was feeling too magnanimous to care. “Never mind. That's what they call it – flying. It's a trance state, induced by intense pain, mixed with sexual pleasure. It happens to real subs. To submissives who are able to let down all their defenses, and really give into the pain. To ride it like a wave, to become one with the pain.
“You, my dear,” he said fondly, patting her head like she was a child, “have finally given in e
nough to let go. You're a difficult case, Lisa, but I think I'm finally getting through.” He felt self-important, like a research scientist who is announcing his important breakthrough discovery. “I've finally found a way to reach you. And we'll have many more sessions like that one, you can rest assured. I'll make you fly again. I'll teach you to fly on command.”
Lisa wasn't sure she liked this, and rather than resting assured, she rested apprehensively, remembering the sharp stinging grip of the clamps against her nipples and clit. Her sex throbbed now at the memory and she pressed her legs together.
But soon she forgot her fears, as Gilbert used her body. He stripped naked, and had her climb over him, her pussy poised over his mouth, his cock at hers. He forced his cock deep into her throat, and told her not to move as he tongued her pussy to several orgasms. Then he fucked her mouth for a while, forcing her to take it deep, so that she couldn't breathe until he pulled back and let her grab a breath, before he plunged back.
He pushed her off him and said, his voice husky with lust, “I'm going to fuck you up the ass. You'd like that, wouldn't you, whore?”
Lisa was a virgin in this department, and not at all sure she would like it, but dutifully she nodded her head, knowing it was pointless to resist. Luckily, he lubricated her asshole and his cock with large dollops of KY jelly, before positioning himself at her ass.
She felt the head of his cock press against her sphincter. It hurt and she tensed, making it hurt all the more. “Don't resist me!” Gilbert insisted. “You're tensing up and that just makes it worse. Here's what you do. Spread your ass cheeks for me. It'll make it easier, and it makes you look more like a slut.”
Lisa obeyed, and was vaguely pleased to discover it did make it easier. Her own hands opening herself made it impossible for her to tense her buttocks muscles. This time when he pushed in it barely hurt until he was about halfway in. Then a sudden sharp pain shot through her rectum and Lisa dropped her hands, trying to steady herself against the bed.
“Relax,” he said, “that was the worst of it. Now I'm almost all the way in. Just relax and stay open for me. Do it, baby. Do it for me. God, you're so tight, so tight. This is better than pussy!”
He started to fuck her in earnest, thrusting hard into her. “Jesus, you look so hot,” he moaned, pulling for a moment completely out of her ass. “Your asshole is gaping. You’re such a filthy whore. There’s nothing I can’t make you do.”
He slammed back into her. Thank god he came soon after, shuddering and spasming against her as he released himself inside her. His scathing remarks had caused a few more switches to flick back on inside her brain. She felt humiliated and defiled. She hated the idea of her most private orifice left gaping for his inspection. Her faced burned with shame.
She knew she would feel better if she were allowed to come again too, but she didn't dare voice this request. Who knew what he would demand as payment for the pleasure. Instead, she contented herself with the lovely and rare feeling of a full belly, and the soft sheets and pillows on Gilbert's bed.
She dimly remembered it had once been her goal to get to this room. To convince Gilbert that she was his willing captive and lover. Why had she wanted to do that? She struggled to think. Oh yes, to escape. Escape. The word reverberated in her head now.
What had happened to those plans? When had her burning desire to get out been replaced by the narrowing focus on food and avoidance of pain? On sexual pleasure and submission to his increasingly outrageous demands? She turned her head slightly. Amazingly, Gilbert seemed to have fallen asleep beside her. She was out of her prison cell, in his bedroom beside the sleeping man.
Dared she get up and make a dash for the living room? Would she find the gun again? Use it? Blow his fucking brains out? Gilbert shifted, and wrapped his arms tight around the naked girl, murmuring something incoherent. Silently she cursed him, but didn't dare to struggle or wake him.
But something was happening inside of Lisa. Maybe all she had needed was a full belly to make her think clearly. And the trappings of civilization—being in a real bedroom instead of a black box with a mattress and a stinky bowl of stale piss.
She moved a little and Gilbert moved in kind, easing his grip on her somewhat. Lisa slid slowly away from him, though his arms were still around her, but more loosely.
Careful not to rouse him, she looked around the room in the light of the moon shining through the window. Next to the bed was a small nightstand, cluttered with used tissues and a few empty drinking glasses. Across from the bed was a bureau. Across the top were scattered the usual items-- a comb, some loose change, a pocketknife, a key.
A key.
Could it be the key to her prison? Lisa's heart started to patter in her chest. She was afraid he might feel it against his own, and again she moved lightly, trying to ease farther away. Gilbert opened one eye, smiled sleepily at her and said, “Don't go anywhere, sugar.” She snuggled against him, pretending to be asleep, until she again heard his regular and even breathing.
All the while her mind was churning. The prospect of escape had leaped full blown back into a mind that had been steadily shutting down, as the days and weeks of torture and deprivation had rendered her defenseless. Now it was as if a light had been turned on, flashing around the insidious spider webs of despair and conditioning.
This was just one man! He wasn't an army. He wasn't that much bigger than she was, though he was stronger, much stronger now that she had been so weakened by forced inactivity and constant hunger. But he was just one man. There was a gun in this house somewhere, though she doubted he'd left it in that coffee table drawer.
She refocused on the key lying on the dresser. If she could just get a hold of them. She leaned toward Gilbert now, trying to get a better look at the keys that were always around his neck. There were three keys, two small ones that were probably for the metal cuffs and the footlocker, and the larger one that must be the door key. She looked at it carefully, noting the brand name of the key, and trying to memorize the grooves and cuts on its stem.
She toyed for a second with trying to remove the chain from his neck, but immediately discarded the idea as a dangerous one. Looking back over these weeks, it was as if a shroud had fallen from her eyes and mind. But she could remember the feelings that had been growing, and they still lurked near the surface of her newfound clarity. She remembered how focused she had been on getting food, and on pleasing Gilbert in all things. Her life had shrunk and narrowed to absurd proportions. She had almost ceased to be human.
And Gilbert still believed she was in that passive, defeated state. He still believed she lived for his approval, and the little privileges and reprieves he tossed her way. Good. That was an advantage. Let him continue to think that. She would do her best to behave with docility and submission, and lull him into thinking he'd created his perfect slave mate.
Gilbert stirred and sat up. Reaching into his nightstand, he pulled out a coil of rope. “Hold your wrists together,” he ordered. “I’m going to let you stay with me tonight.” He tied her wrists securely and then twisted the rope in knots around the bedpost. He left enough give so she could move, but there was no way she could get away.
Leaning down, he kissed the tip of nose. “Lovely girl,” he whispered.
The man was beyond sick. Lisa felt the slow burn of rage melting in her blood. Forcing her face into a smooth and she hoped pleasant expression, Lisa snuggled against the man she despised and fell asleep.
Chapter 11
It felt so nice, having her next to him, warm flesh against warm flesh. Though she couldn’t yet be trusted to lie unfettered beside him, there was no denying something had definitely changed between them. Dared he hope she was finally coming around?
The training was taking a deep hold of her at last, as he had hoped and dreamed it would. Gilbert and Lisa. He liked the sound of it. Master John and Slave Jade? That was nice too, but that was fantasy. What he had with Lisa was infinitely better, so richly complex.
He loved that he could call her cunt one moment, and lover the next. Beat her raw and then make sweet love to her. And now she not only didn't resist, she seemed to crave what he offered. He had to be careful though. It was still a fine line between lover and slave, and he didn't want her crossing it. He would still ration her food and beat her regularly, just to make certain she stayed needy and dependent. It was good when she was hungry and hurting. It kept her from thinking too clearly.
Sunlight was filtering through his window. Gilbert nudged the sleeping girl. “Lisa,” he whispered. “Lisa, wake up. I want you to suck my cock.”
Lisa shifted and opened her eyes. She looked so vulnerable, her face smudged with sleep. Gilbert felt his heart expand so that it almost hurt. He undid the knots and unwound the rope from her frail wrists. She smiled at him and stretched like a cat.
“Please, sir, may I pee first?”
Gilbert looked down at her. She well knew he might refuse. She held her breath. “Okay,” he said, “And since you’ve been such a good little slut, you can use my toilet. Don't get used to it, though. Slaves don't use toilets.”
“Oh! Thank you, sir!” Lisa breathed, fixing him with an adoring gaze. But in fact she was wondering, who the fuck made up that stupid rule? Sounds like a Gilbert Assface original. God, it felt good to be angry again! She felt alive. She had almost been lost, she now realized, almost pushed beyond recovery of her old real self. Barely saved from becoming a Stepford wife submissive!
These thoughts flew past her brain in the few seconds it took to stand up. She couldn’t believe her luck. By letting her go by herself, it made the plan that much easier to accomplish. Would it work? God, let it work. She held her breath as Gilbert turned his head, yawning hugely.
That was all she needed. While his head was averted, his eyes scrunched shut in a yawn, she scurried past the bureau. Quickly she brushed the loose key into her hand and continued on to the bathroom, her heart pounding.
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