by Jesse Jordan
I get down, expecting to have to swallow his cock, but instead Master pulls his cock out, stroking it in front of my face, pausing only to let me lick the tip. His eyes are dark and stormy with emotion as his cock grows harder to its full magnificent length, and I look up at him with utter devotion in my eyes. My Master, the man who will protect and take care of me, and all I have to do is submit to him.
“Open your mouth,” he says, and I open wide, just as the first blast of his seed shoots out, Master splattering my face with his precious gift. One spurt hits me in the eye which stings like the fucking devil, but then the next creamy blessing hits my tongue and my body is alive with the feeling of his release. He covers my face with his seed, dragging the tip of his cock down both of my cheeks and across my forehead to spread it around. I feel reborn, and while maybe it's sacrilegious, I'm still blessed either way. I swallow, once again no longer the woman I was even when I woke up this morning, but somehow stronger. I gently nuzzle and suck his cock clean before putting him away, tugging his underwear up before kissing the cottony bulge and then closing his pants.
“Thank you Master,” I whisper as he gestures for me to get up. I go to wipe my face, but Master stops me, shaking his head, and I understand. I was just marked, I'm Rodrigo Camponini's property, and I'm to wear his sign and seal until he tells me not to. My hand falls away, and I put my hands behind my back, my only frustration being the heat burning inside my body and wanting release too. “So what now, Master?”
“Now,” Rodrigo says, looking at the collar on my neck with approval, “now we select where your patch of garden's going to be, and then we go to the farm supply store. I didn't buy a pickup truck because I want to be some rhinestone country boy. I bought it to be able to do real work.”
I'm quiet for the whole trip to the supply store, looking around at the rolling, beautiful terrain that surrounds me. In the distance I see a castle, and I feel my breath taken away as I consider the rural paradise that I'm in. A lake glitters to the right of us, and I wonder if some day Rodrigo and I might go to that lake for a swim, or to enjoy a picnic. The naughtier side of me wonders if he'd like to fuck me right there on the side of the lake, or even in the water. While I've never been an exhibitionist before, the idea of showing the whole world, or at least whoever the hell wants to watch, that Rodrigo is my Master and that I belong to him makes me even hornier than I already am.
The supply store is laid out like any other small home and garden shop I've ever seen, just with less selection crammed into one quarter the space. The best part though is listening to the the chattering, the few customers talking with the shop owner in loud, boisterous Italian that I've missed. It's both fun and painful, I've forgotten just how loud other people are.
Rodrigo and I select the tools I need, which isn't much. A pick to break up the soil in our selected spot, a shovel to help turn it, some hand tools, and some fertilizer, just in case. Over the past few days Rodrigo's asked me to figure out how to do compost, and we can use gray water too, water on Sicily is precious as spring starts and the summer heat's just around the corner.
“I liked your idea for potatoes, but I had another idea too,” Rodrigo says as he puts a tray of cuttings in our cart. “Artichokes and nopal cactus are popular around here, and my nearest neighbor has honeybees. If we plant some flowers for him, he'll give us a couple of jars come harvest time. That'll give you time to experiment, make mistakes, and then next planting and growing season come fall, you'll be able to really do some miracles.”
“Okay M.... Rodrigo,” I say, stopping myself. “Uh, we didn't talk about that before we left home.”
Rodrigo grins and nods. “No... but you did perfectly. Come on, let's get checked out, get this stuff home.”
The clerk is a young woman, maybe about my age, and when she recognizes the shine of Rodrigo's dried seed on my face, she blushes, looking at Rodrigo for a second before looking back at me with envy in her eyes. If only she were strong enough to handle my Master. It's with only a little bit of haughtiness that I lift my chin, showing off my collar, and Rodrigo laughs softly as he puts an arm around my shoulder to whisper in my ear. “You're bragging, Jessica.”
“I know,” I whisper back. “Why shouldn't I?”
Rodrigo gives me a warm look before we load our stuff up and drive back to the villa, pulling through the gate and parking the truck. “Okay, let's get this unloaded before we get dinner started.”
I get out, picking up some of the tools and taking them over to the area that we picked out, it gets morning sunshine and evening shade, setting them down in the packed dirt. Just as I do I feel Rodrigo grab me from behind and pull me to him, his lips hot and burning on my neck as he kisses my neck before turning me around and kissing me full on the lips. He picks me up and carries me over to the bed of his truck, setting me down on the tailgate and kissing my neck again. “You're so fucking hot being proud of your collar,” he growls in between kisses, his hands rough and delicious on my ass. “I want you to call it out.”
“I'm Rodrigo Camponini's,” I call as he pulls on my jeans. He gets them unbuttoned, tugging them down before smacking my ass hard. I yelp, and he smacks me again.
“I thought you were fucking proud? Say it like you mean it!” he says, tugging my panties down. “Who's your Master?”
“RODRIGO CAMPONINI IS MY MASTER!” I call out, loud and proud as he bends me over. The afternoon light is warm, and a thrill goes through me. This isn't giving him a quick blowjob in the courtyard, this is full on fucking, my ass and pussy exposed to the air even if we are still semi-private, and I love it. I gather my breath, and call out my heart's deep happiness. “I'M HIS SLAVE, AND I'M HAPPY! PLEASE FUCK ME MASTER!”
Master hums happily and drives his magnificent cock into my sopping wet cunt, which has been hot and almost oozing since he coated me before we left to go shopping. He's fast, but not as hard or as harsh as before, and when he reaches underneath me to stroke my breasts the sensation is softer, but just as electrifying. It's scarier than when he pounds me or calls me his pet, because in his strokes, in the way that I feel him time himself so that he's bringing me pleasure as well as him, I feel something else too.
This is more than sexual devotion. When he's like this, I feel like I'm more than just his fuck slave, more than a servant who is proud to have a sexy, handsome Master who enjoys my body. I feel more than just the pleasure of exploration of pain and pleasure from the training room... this is something different. It's more frightening though, but at the same time more deeply wanted. I feel whispers of it when he laughs at my jokes, or when he gives me a look as we're cooking or doing other things around the house. I feel it when he gives me little presents, and right now, as he not only fucks me but does something more, I feel it more, growing deep inside me.
“Master... please, oh fuck please, I can't take much more,” I beg, the fear growing inside me as he keeps driving himself into me, my nerves on fire from the pleasure. “Please Rodrigo... oh fuck....”
“Just a little longer,” he promises, and I can feel him speed up. I hold on as best I can, pushing back into him and trying to urge him along with my body, even as the last of the barriers inside me, the ones where I've locked the last little bit of the old me, are battered by his cock and what he's doing to me.
I can't help it, Master pushes me over the edge and I come, my pussy clamping around him and milking his cock. Master shudders, coming again and driving me into the tailgate of his truck, the metal biting into my hips and adding just enough pain to let me retreat from the more frightening things being done inside me. I ride out my orgasm, enjoying the feeling as Master holds me close, our hips pressed together and my jeans around my knees. When he pulls out, he turns me around, looking deep into my eyes.
“Are you okay, Jessica?” he asks, his voice rough and tender at the same time. “You've never called me Rodrigo while we have sex before.”
“Yes Master,” I whisper, swallowing and trying to hide the nervou
sness his eyes are causing inside me. “I guess... I guess today's meant a lot to me too. I'm sorry I screwed up.”
Rodrigo lifts his hand and lays it on my cheek, then lifts his fingers before tapping them lightly on my cheekbone. “There. Your punishment, you just got slapped. Let's get you fixed up, and get the rest of this stuff unloaded. You paid me a very high honor today, Jessica. The collar, but what you called out... thank you.”
“Thank you, Master,” I sniff, on the verge of crying again. “Please excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”
Rodrigo nods, and I flee, going inside to the toilet, where I can sit down, and finally let a few of the fear driven tears inside me loose. The question I have as I cry is... what exactly am I afraid of?
I don't know, and that makes me cry all the harder.
The sun is warmer today, and sweat trickles between my breasts as I lift the pick again. Maybe I've been doing workouts like Larissa showed me, and maybe Master and I have been having more sex than a hutch full of fertile rabbits, but my back and shoulders haven't been lifting gardening tools, and they ache. Still, I only have a little more work to do to finish the plot, and then I'll take a rest.
It feels great being outside, and I have to admit, the trust that Rodrigo's given me is powerful. Sure, not having any 'safe spaces' is scary, but no more scary than the rest of the world. Actually when I think about it, I do have a safe space. Within these walls, I'm in a whole separate, private world that keeps me safe.
I hear the gate to the villa open, and I turn, feeling unexpected surprise. Rodrigo isn't supposed to be home for another hour or two, and while I wanted to have the dirt finished by the time he got home for a late lunch, I'm still happy to see him.
What comes through the gate though isn't Rodrigo's truck, but a white SUV. The man who gets out is swarthy, and as soon as I see him I remember him from the slave pens. Surprised, I step out into the middle of the courtyard, my pick still in my hands. Did I just think that I was safe within these walls? What a delusion. “Leon.”
“Your owner should teach you some manners, including not teaching you my name,” the Algerian says, unbuttoning his jacket. “Where is he?”
“Rodrigo is at The Farm,” I reply, icy terror going through me when I see the pistol on Leon's hip underneath his gun. “Why not try looking for him there?”
Leon shakes his head, tucking the tail of his jacket behind his holster and clearly displaying it, but at least he doesn't take it out. Still, I hold my pathetic little gardening tool in front of me, like that would stop Leon if he wanted to put three rounds in my chest. What frightens me more is the way he looks me up and down, like a piece of meat, but not in a good way. “The message I come to deliver is not for The Farm. Tell your owner that The Sultan knows what sort of things Rodrigo's been saying about him. Tell him... tell him that The Sultan isn't happy. And as for you, if I were you I'd get ready to change houses. Kahled and I still owe you a fucking for what was done to us.”
“You try and touch me, you better have that pistol out and pressed against my chest,” I threaten, sounding stronger than I feel. On the inside I'm terrified, I know I'm helpless. “And you better pray I don't put this pick up your ass and show you what fucking really feels like.”
“Smart mouth American bitch. Just for that, when you suck my cock, you'll be doing it with no teeth in your head,” Leon says, but he backs away. “Remember, tell Rodrigo that The Sultan knows. He fucks with The Sultan again, and he will regret it.”
Leon gets into the SUV, driving over to the gate and hitting a remote control. The gate opens, shocking me even more as Leon drives out, the gate closing behind him. I drop my pick, utter terror gripping my heart, and run inside the house to lock the door behind me before retreating to my first room downstairs, there's no windows and I can close the door behind me. My old mattress is still there, and I cower behind it, trying not to cry as the waking nightmare overwhelms me.
Rodrigo
The sky is just starting to turn a regal purple when I get home, later than I thought but that's okay, I was busy with things at The Farm. Getting into the weapons warehouse took a little bit of craftiness, and I had to be even more careful with my modifications to some of the crates. Fifty Claymore mines, daisy chained together and rigged with a sort of cell phone detonator takes some time but can easily sink a boat the size of what The Sultan uses for transport. It takes time to prepare, and can be finicky work. With a little bit of luck, the roughly thirty five thousand steel pellets from the mines can perforate not just the boat, but most of the crew, The Sultan himself, and maybe even the nerve gas. Just looking at those pressurized canisters fills me with dread.
Now though, I feel better knowing that Jessica is waiting for me, and that we can enjoy a quiet evening together. I wonder how much work she got done on the garden today, and as the gate to the villa rattles open, I don't see the pick lying on the dirt until it's almost too late. I stop my truck and get out, curious. “Jessica? JESSICA?!?!”
There's no answer so I pick up the pick out of the dirt and carry it over to the stairs, my heart speeding up when I find the door to the villa locked from the inside. I use my key, following the dirty bootprints to the inside stairs and down to the first floor, where they stop about halfway down. Still, it's my best bet. “Jessica? Where are you? It's Rodrigo!”
There's a shuffle, and the door to Jessica's old, first room opens and she peeps her head out, her eyes filled with fear before she sees it's me. She launches herself out towards me, wrapping her arms around my neck and sobbing in fear and relief. She's babbling incoherently, but I console her as best I can, holding her carefully and stroking her back. Her shirt's soaked, but I can smell the scent of her sweat, this isn't exercise sweat but fear, terror induced sweat. “Shhh... what happened? I came home, and you dropped your pick, I find you down here... what's wrong?”
Jessica sobs, then lets go, her face angry. “You promised! You promised and you lied to me!”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused but also angry, not at her but whatever caused this. I don't know what's happened to her, but she's obviously scared out of her wits, and whoever did that is going to fucking pay. “Wait. Come upstairs, let's sit down, you can tell me what happened.”
“Sit down?” she asks, half hysterically. “He threatened to rape me, Rodrigo! He said that he'd break all my teeth off then force his fucking cock down my throat! You want me to sit down and tell you this like I'm telling you about some recipe?”
She starts to break down again and I take her in my arms, holding her closely, stroking her back tenderly as I try to suppress the rage building inside me. “The Sultan.”
“No,” she whispers, sniffing. “Leon.”
I shake my head, hissing in anger. The Sultan's errand boy, he didn't even have the fucking common courtesy to threaten me himself. “That fucking slime.”
“Rodrigo, you promised me... when you first bought me, even before you were my Master, you promised that you'd protect me! You promised me that I'd be safe with you, that none of... none of the shit that makes up the other side of your life would come here without you! He came in, used a fucking remote like he was you! That gate didn't stop shit!”
I take a deep breath, my anger mixing with my fear at what almost happened to my... to my Jessica. “Okay, I got it,” I say quietly. “Jessica, you're right. I promised you that I'd protect you. And I'm telling you again, I will protect you. You're more important to me now than ever before, and I'm going to get this taken care of. Now... come upstairs and tell me exactly what happened.”
Jessica listens to my voice this time, and when she looks up at me she's still scared, but holding out hope. “Okay... Master.”
“That's a good slave,” I whisper, stroking my thumb underneath one beautiful silvery gray eye, smiling reassuringly. “Come on, let's get you some tea or coffee, and you can tell me all that happened. Then I'm going to go out and deal with this.”
“Master, please!” Jessica
says, but stops when she sees my face. She understands, I can't just stay here and hold her to keep away the boogeymen who threatened her. “Yes Master.”
I lead Jessica upstairs to the kitchen, where I put a kettle of water on to boil while I get two mugs down and a container of herbal tea. “All right, start at the beginning again, and take your time. The water's still got a few minutes until it boils.”
She starts over, telling me slowly and carefully from the beginning what happened. I'm shaken on the inside, but I can't let Jessica see it. Instead, when the water comes to a boil I cut the heat and put a teaspoon of loose tea leaves inside. “Okay. First off Jessica, you did just fine. Leon, he broke quite a few major rules of The Network when he came here, and I'm going to deal with that tonight, as well as with The Sultan. Now... about your protection.”
I gesture for Jessica to follow me, and I take her into my small home office. Behind the picture I have on the wall of the New York skyline, I have my safe, and I use my fingerprint to open it. “Sicily isn't the States,” I say as the safe reads my thumb and pops open, “so while I travel strapped, I keep my gun normally in my truck unless I've got a reason to worry. This is my backup. Have you ever fired a gun before?”
“Just one time, a friend of mine took me to a gun range. We shot AR-15s. It was for a psych study on gun control as an undergrad,” she says, looking at the Beretta I hold out warily. “Master... are you sure?”
“One hundred fucking percent sure. If anyone other than me comes in this house, I want you to shoot first, shoot some more, and when they're dead you can stop to reload. It's got twelve rounds,” I say, jacking the slide and loading one, “and it's hot now. Safety's on, I don't need you accidentally shooting yourself in the foot with nerves. Here's how you switch that off. Other than that, point and shoot, it's a single action semi.”
