Lena's Fall: Volumes Eight through Fifteen of Lena’s Journey

by Alex Carlsbad

  "Hmmm… I must confess the idea has never crossed my mind,” I admit and stand to refill our glasses.

  “Well I just thought I'd mention it. As I'm sure you realize it yourself, she is a late bloomer that one. Her body is not fully matured yet. And while her chain around the waist is pretty against her complexion, I believe you owe it to yourself to try her out in a corset too. A young body like hers is still supple enough to respond well and grow into the tightness and constrains of a corset.” Now I am intrigued.

  "Really? How so?"

  “A long time ago I had acquired a young voluptuous thing not unlike yours. Upon a friend's recommendation I placed her in a corset and had her wear it for days on end. I only allowed her to remove it when she bathed. It made for real excitement during penetration let me tell you. For both of us. I don't know how to explain it – you are the physician after all. But I imagine the tightness contributed. I can mail you the address of the tailors I used. They will send you the particulars on what measurements they need and then ship you the finished product. They are extremely efficient and dependable."

  Lena was obviously listening with a keen interest. Her eyes flitted over to Mr. Henry as he spoke clearly overwhelmed with the implications of what he was saying. I made myself a mental note to add to her chastisement later for not being disciplined enough to keep her eyes riveted on me as she had been directed. I looked over to Mr. Henry and smiled broadly.

  “Yes, please do that. I think this idea of yours is already growing on me, so to speak,” I chuckled and we lifted our glasses.

  “Also, you might want to consider using a scalpel or laser to lance off some of the moles she has along her back and tummy.” I nod to that. I have already scheduled Lena an appointment with a plastic surgeon but have not mentioned it to her yet. “It would be safer in the long term anyway.”

  I see her eyes grow big. I am impressed at how well trained she has become. Even now, with all the turmoil undoubtedly roiling through her, she is still demurely kneeling on the floor and holding her tongue. “Just a precaution sweetheart,” I explain. “A lot of these spots might become malignant with time, and as your master I want you to stay healthy."

  “Thank you, Master." I reach and pat her head.

  "Good girl. You’re learning." She looks down for a moment before catching herself and looking up again. Her eyes are so deep and beautiful.

  I don’t want to tell her that removing some of her beautiful little moles from her body will not only protect her from getting melanoma down the road but will also give me more latitude to use a strap and later the whip with unrestrained abandon across her skin. No sense burdening her already overwhelmed mind with all this right now. I smile at her reassuringly.

  “Also… I wanted to ask…” he seems uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

  “Yes?” My patience is growing paperthin. I hope he realizes that. Seeing Lena manhandled by another man has made me want her all the more now. I cannot wait for him to leave.

  “Well, here is the thing – I don't know when's the last time you met the Overlord but he… Let's just say he has developed a new habit, almost a tradition at this point.”

  I sigh and lean back against the wall. I arch my eyebrows and cross my arms steeling myself for whatever Mr. Henry is trying to say.

  “I don't know how to say it without irritating you, so I will just blurt it out.” The emissary’s eyes focused somewhere in the distance. “His Honor might want to sample the girl when she has been inducted.”

  Something must have changed in my posture because suddenly Mr. Henry took a step back and lifted both hands in a placating gesture. “You will of course be allowed to deflower her and do the honors, but you know how it is –it is his prerogative if he wants to…” I growl something incoherent to that. "I will convey how… much you treasure her but I cannot promise anything. I'm just trying to let you know ahead of time is all.”

  “And what if I don't allow him?” Mr. Henry's face suddenly acquires a mischievous, almost challenging expression.

  "I – I would advise you against any such thing. You know how powerful he is, and more than that, you are a senior pledged member of the inner circle. It would mean mutiny."

  I look away. He is right of course. Mutiny is never tolerated in the Society. The penalty is death, by a protracted and excruciating ancient ritual of torture. My eyes settle on the girl. She has visibly grown pale and is shaking lightly where she kneels on the floor by us. I nod silently and then force myself into a pose of relaxed disinterest.

  “Fine. You can inform his Honor that I will definitely not stand in his way.”

  “Good.” Mr. Henry relaxes visibly at that but his eyes remain still riveted on me. “I will go now,” he forces a smile that doesn’t touch his eyes. He looks at his watch. “My flight for Montréal is in a couple of hours. I will just barely make it in time to the airport.” I nod darkly. There is no point in pretending that I wish him to stay. After all, he is probably accustomed to the routine. Placing a prospective initiate concubine of the Society into a chastity belt after having examined her virginity and health surely never go down easily with her master.

  “Oh, one last thing, if you don't mind… but his Honor insists that all future concubines are completely hairless, if you know what I mean.”

  I tilt my head sideways and feel my eyes narrowing into slits. “Does he also want me to giftwrap her and send her over in a bow?” Maybe I should just kill the bastard right now and spare myself the trouble later. He pales visibly and reaches for the door.

  “Ha-ha, you’re funny.” I’m happy he thinks so. “Okay… I’ll see you soon. Oh, and I will definitely send you the tailors’ contact info. I’m quite sure you will like the effect of a corset on the girl. Bye.”

  "Thank you," I hear myself say in a passionless voice. My eyes have grown dark and I feel my muscles tingle like before a kill. Finally, the barrel-chested man seems to get the message, nods as if to himself, and hurries out the door. I turn around to Lena and forced a tight smile. My young slave is watching me keenly. Her beautiful big brown eyes are studying me carefully.

  ~

  Lena:

  Tonight Master appeared to be lost in thought during the better part of dinner. It wasn't until I brought out dessert – slices of dried mango and then knelt by his chair, that he actually seemed to come back from wherever his mind had been wandering and noticed my presence. A playful twinkle illuminated his preternaturally dark eyes.

  "Did you feel sick or ill today?" The question takes me by complete surprise.

  "Ill?" I shake my head mystified. "No, Master. I felt fine." He reaches out and places a slice of dried fruit in my mouth that I open obediently. It melts on my tongue. He knows I love mango.

  "It is just that I'm trying to comprehend why you haven't been working on your assigned readings. If you are not indisposed, then why?" I slump down, my shoulders and back reacquiring the hunched posture I've been working so hard to lose.

  "No, nothing like that, Master."

  "Please look up at me when you speak. I'm not hiding somewhere on the floor between your knees." Dr. Branigan's voice doesn't sound angry or even irritated. Just intrigued. I force myself to look up at him. "Tell me what is bothering you?" He reaches out and with slow loving motions he pushes back the curls that have fallen across my forehead. "I promised to help you get ready for your SATs but for that to happen, you need to put in your share of effort. I'm sorry I'm beginning to sound like your dad but it is the simple truth, angel."

  I nod but in the same time I blush. He’s been wanting me to read "Justine" – an outrageous kind of story written almost three hundred years ago by none other than the infamous Marquis de Sade. Surely the chances that this piece of literature to ever be included as part of the questions on the SAT are virtually zero! The word "sadism" is based on the author's last name, after all! Dr. Branigan's eyebrows arch up and I see he’s still expecting some sort of explanation. Suddenly I do feel like a gra
de schooler being asked to explain some sort of transgression to her father. The fact that I'm on my knees, naked, wearing only a chastity belt, while he is dressed and comfortably staring down on me from the dinner table after having eaten what I cooked and served him, do nothing to make the situation more acceptable.

  "But – my reading… It was written by the Marquis de Sade!" I blurt out and immediately cower back on my heels. There's no telling if my master might explode. I've heard him say that De Sade is one of the greatest unrecognized literary geniuses of history. Whatever! I fully expect Master's wrath to be swift and painful.

  But he surprises me. He smiles and takes a long sip of his Saint Emillion Grand Crû.

  "Now, now, Lena. I thought you might say something like that. But I don't believe that the reputation of De Sade is the honest-to-God genuine reason for your reluctance to study."

  My mouth falls agape.

  "But, it is!" I protest and resist the futile urge to stand and actually stomp my feet in indignation. Master doesn't even look in my direction. He just shakes his head and does that little sound with his tongue indicating he is not convinced. I'm not prone to outbursts of temper, but right now I'm definitely starting to feel angry. What is he implying? Is Dr. Branigan trying to say I'm lazy? Mentally challenged somehow? I watch him and feel my face burning with impotent rage, as he reaches out and refills his glass of wine.

  "Why don't you believe me?"

  "Please allow me to be skeptical." Sometimes I just hate his mocking voice.

  "I hate you!"

  "Master."

  "What?"

  "I hate you, ‘Master.’ I allow you to hate me, if you so choose, but this doesn't mean you can disrespect me. Say it!" The way he commands me to do his bidding without so much as raising his voice makes me wet with desire all over again.

  "Master." I repeat glumly. "I hate you, Master." He takes another sip of wine. "I hate you, Master." I almost believe my own words. But now, more than ever, I also crave his strength, the taste of him, the power of his body, his seed in my mouth, in me. Oh God!

  "I am sorry to hear that, angel." He turns to look down on me. I wonder if my arousal is obvious. I feel a droplet of wetness escape from between the golden confines of the chastity belt and trickle across the underside of my bottom to drip to the floor. I wince. "There's one thing you can do to prove your point, my sweet slave. If you can apply yourself to it and show your diligence doing it, I will change my mind. I will agree with you that having you study the works of the Marquis De Sade is a bad uninspiring idea."

  Anything.

  "Anything, Master!"

  He chuckles and motions for me to stand. I gasp when his hand suddenly comes out to cup me. "Spread your legs. Squat and open up for your Master, baby slave." I obey even though my eyes are silently begging him to stop, to not humiliate me further. But we both know that my shame is a potent aphrodisiac not only for him, but also for me. "You are very wet, kitten," he growls and I whimper. I feel him worming a long finger into my slick center. My whimper turns into a muted scream when the digit pushes all the way in and bumps up against my hymen. I bite on my knuckles in angst.

  "Suck on your thumb as I have told you to do when you feel anxious." He orders and I obey. "Is my sweet little slut hoping I'll give her something of a sexual nature to do instead of studying for her exams?" His finger starts pumping in and out of me and my body responds by pushing back on it. "Go on hump away. I want you to cum. You have my permission."

  Master:

  I watch my precious Lena as she stares back at me. Her eyes look unwavering but her gaze grows distant as I feel her muscles involuntarily tighten on my finger. I look down and allow my eyes to wash over her exquisite form.

  Right now there is nothing in the entire world that I hate quite as much as the gold chastity belt between her legs. Luckily I wasn’t given the key. Or I would have unlocked it, and taken her, made her a woman right here and now.

  Looking down at her flushed chest and the barely visible exquisite webbing of veins beneath her youthful skin there, I can tell that her milk has just dropped. I bend forward and reposition her in my arms cradling her just so that now my lips can seek out and latch onto the hot, engorged nipple of the breast closest to my chest.

  "Ahhh," she gasps as her nectar spills into my mouth. I barely have to apply any suction at all to enjoy her nourishing sweetness. I enjoy how every time when I first start nursing Lena seems to be averse and squeamish about it. But as always, within a few moments, all is forgotten and she visibly melts in my arms as oxytocin floods her system and a feeling of warmth and contentment suffuses her nubile body. I feel her hand come to delicately rest on the back of my neck as she tentatively holds me to her breast as I consume her body's life source. Soon her breast is devoid of milk and I shift to the one further from me hugging her closer as I do. Without even thinking about it, my free hand slides down her thigh and I gently guide her legs apart finding my way to her trapped treasure cove. I carefully stroke and caress the delicate flesh of her upper inner thighs and Lena sighs deeply as she plays with my hair. I can feel the pleasure of her warm heated pussy waft through the room imbuing us both with the relaxing unique experience we are both enjoying. I'm almost done when I feel her excitement begin to rise again and even though I am almost done with my feast, I indulge her as she moans and spreads her legs wider to give me better access to my toy.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, I hear her whimper and I feel her climax as she wraps her arms around my neck holding my face buried in her breast. I am done and her breasts are empty, but she remains leaning back in my arms her hands mindlessly stroking my head and neck as I snuggle her closely. I cannot help but revel in the feel of my little slave's delicate fingers, the heat of her breath against my chest and the pumping of her tiny little heart as it flutters in my embrace. Oh God if she didn't have that infernal belt placed there by the Society, I would fuck her right here and now. I turn her to face me and kiss her hungrily. My girl responds, her tongue slowly, lazily dancing against mine.

  Lena:

  God! I cannot imagine myself without my master. I suppress a shiver when it occurs to me that the memories of my past life are growing increasingly dim with every passing day. They're becoming completely eclipsed by every waking moment I experience in the presence of Dr. Branigan. It is as if my old existence, caring for my elderly mom, was a black-and-white silent movie, and now everything is in ultrahigh definition. After a long while panting against my master's chest, I finally gathered up enough strength to speak.

  "So what kind of penance will you have me do to prove I would study anything else but the works of that odious man De Sade?" Dr. Branigan chuckles quietly.

  "I wouldn’t necessarily call it penance. I want you to read and do a literary analysis of a fairytale for me."

  "A fairytale?" I look up incredulously.

  "You're just kidding. Right? Master…" This time he cannot seem to stop himself and laughs out loud.

  "No I'm not kidding. I want you to take a fairytale from a collection by the brothers Grimm."

  "But I don't understand… It seems so very different from what you had me read by De Sade."

  "That's just it," he looks at me pointedly. "The difference is all in the eyes of the beholder, actually. You'll probably find it surprising that in the early editions of their fairytales, the Grimm brothers included a number of stories that depicted incest, rape, cannibalism and other horrors that would make many a hardened modern-day cops lose their composure."

  "Oh." Who knew.

  "In some ways, however, I actually find these folktales simple and very much lacking. Once you’re done reading and analyzing them, perhaps you might consider comparing what you have worked on with the works of De Sade. Personally I believe that his works at least carry with them a deeper message. The fairytales only aim to scare and cause disgust and horror in the reader’s mind. I want you to start on your reading tonight before going to sleep. There's a volume with th
e stories I'm talking about on my desk. It is the first edition. Very rare. Take good care of it."

  "Yes, Master."

  "Good girl.”

  Master:

  All of a sudden I remember it is almost bedtime and I still have work to do. I have a full day at the hospital tomorrow.

  Slap!

  “Ouch,” she looks at me her face almost like that of a little girl playfully disappointed in a parent’s behavior. Her hands instinctively fly to cover her breast which is rapidly reddening after my gentle smack.

  “Go make me a cup of coffee. Your milk made me drowsy now. I have so much work to do before the end of the week.” She scowls at me but doesn't say a thing as she forces herself up from my lap .

  Lena: