by Terri Pray
An indrawn hiss of breath, fury, then relief. Without another word the woman turned, fleeing from the room with the slap of leather against the stone. Celeste was left alone with the man who sought to break her, only to remold her in his vision. She'd not give in to him.
Every instinct screamed for her to play the meek and mild, to lower her gaze, crawl to his feet, kiss them and plead for mercy. Instead, she tipped her chin, meeting his cold stare head on.
“Well then, what shall I do with you? You've broken one of the few rules I had given you and that is not something I can let go unpunished. You know and accept that, yet you don't move, you make no sound to plea for mercy.” His fingers tapped against the belt he wore, the very one she had felt on her first night in his care. “You know what I can do to you, but still you look at me, daring to prove you are my equal and not my pet, my toy, a thing I can destroy or re-create at my whim.”
Her lips dried, and her throat closed at his words, but still she refused to lower her gaze.
“Pride is what makes you such an interesting subject.”
Would speaking have made matters worse? For a moment she was tempted, but the look in his eyes said no, do not. Disobey me again on this and it will be a hundred times worse for you.
“The belt only taught you a small lesson, so we move a step up on this. To the whip.” He snarled, and reaching out for her, dragged her to her feet by the grip on her hair. “My room. It's about time you saw some of the pleasures I have awaiting you, my little slut.”
She tensed, her body tightening with the grip that pressed finger bruises into the back of her neck. A low cry of pain escaped her when his hand forced her to turn toward the open doorway. It didn't matter that her flesh was still damp from the bath, or that she shivered with the breeze sending a chill path over her form, crinkling her nipples into stiff peeks. He cared only to move her into the room that held the instruments of her punishment.
With a growl he shoved her through another door, kicking it closed after he followed her in. Her hands scraped against the floor, knees skinned. Her hair fell in damp tails over her eyes. She turned, fear clenching at her being, and backed away on her ass across the cold stones. The candles hanging from the iron ring and chain above her, offering little in the way of warmth.
“Pretty little beast. Fear only adds to your charm. You want to fight me the way you did Alex, but you know your nails would only anger me further. Despite your courage, you don't want to push me that far— at least not yet.” He turned and locked the door behind them before looking back at her. “I'm not foolish, you might yet try to run, and I would hate to have to kill you, so we'll take precautions against such an act for a time at least.”
Kill her? Death would be a blessing, far better than submitting to his touch, his wicked plans.
“The belt introduced you to a low level of pain, but the whip can take you to levels you have yet to dream of.” He cleared the distance between them, grabbing Celeste by the hair as he yanked her back to her feet, unmindful of the grazes on her knees. “Chained and screaming you'll soon come to learn just what I can put you through, my little pet.”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, and blood coating their softness before he had fastened the restraints to her wrists. Chains hung from the ceiling, metal cuffs that locked about her wrists. A yank on a wheel fastened to the wall pulled her upward until only the tips of her toes touched the floor.
Bare stone faced her. Unlike the rest of the home, or what little she had seen of it, his chambers were lacking in soft furnishings or hints of gentler ways. A cage sat in one corner of the room, large enough to hold a grown woman, as long as she didn't try to stand. Celeste twisted, trying to catch sight of what else had been set up, but the pull of the steel about her wrists kept her from exploring further.
“I have many types of whips, floggers and crops in my collection. This one is cowhide, leather, wide blades. The narrow the blade the more pain the blows will cause you. Oh, don't get me wrong, this will hurt a great deal. In time though you'll hope for the caress of this one instead of a braided cat, or a narrow bladed flogger, or better yet my single tail.” He moved into line of sight, holding up the red leather flogger with what could have been a hundred tails to her frightened eyes.
A whimper fled from her lips. He meant to hurt her with it, strike out against her body and leave her screaming in the grip of pain and steel alike. Her jaw clenched, eyes widened with fear, knowing the flogger would soon be caressing her flesh in a waterfall of red leather.
“You'll do far more than whimper little slut.”
She had no doubt of that.
He moved, walking behind her, shaking out the leather in his grasp. The tails slapped against each other, small snaps, a threatening sound hinting at the pain to come.
A dozen and more lashes of fire wrapped their way across her back, forcing a cry from her lips as she arched, feet leaving the floor. She tried to fight the pain, to keep from letting it control her world only to fail when the leather sliced a wicked path through the air to strike against her thighs.
The belt had been bad, but it had only hit her once with each swing, this brought hundreds of bright moments of pain as the leather wrapped and clung to her flesh. It was tugged away with a sharp twist of his wrist.
“Pain, the need to breathe. You want to move away from it, but you can't. The chains hold you in place, and all you can do is wait for the next blow, hoping it will be the last one.” He waited, the leather loose at his side. Waiting made it worse, leaving her flinching at each small sound. “You welt nicely. By the time this is over, you won't know where one pain ends and the next begins.”
She tried to focus, to find a way to rise above the pain. Welts, aching from the trip, bruises on her hips from the way he had used her on the ship. Already she hurt more than she imagined the human body ever could. A hiss, like a dozen snakes, warned her of the blow in the heartbeat before leather connected with her body.
One set of blows after another wrapped around her body. Pain, fire, her body screamed, breath stolen from the onslaught against her bound form. She couldn't move, her drive to escape was replaced by her body being held helpless in the chains. Her knees no longer attempted to sustain her weight.
She could feel the taut red lines on her skin, but couldn't fight the next set. She'd never felt so helpless. Her mind screamed no again and again. Her body shook, and she was unable to draw enough breath to even scream fully. She could only whimper softly.
She lost track of how many times the flogger caressed her skin with purest pain. Tears fell openly, each breath a ragged gasp. Her mind threatening to leave her body hanging in the chains and flee into a welcoming darkness that offered a scant measure of protection.
“Such a delicious sight.” His breath touched the back of her neck, warm, welcoming. Almost soft. “You move well beneath the leather, my pet.”
Celeste hung in the chains, the manacles biting into her wrists, unable to fight the soft touches that now followed the path of pain across her form. His fingers traced each welt, exploring it, murmuring with delight at how they marked her flesh, enriching her appearance in his eyes.
Sick, twisted. Her mind flung the words at him. They fit him well.
His hands moved down between her thighs, cupping her soft lips, one finger prying between them. “Interesting. You're damp, my little slut. Very damp. I think a part of you enjoyed the attention I just gave you.”
No, that had to be a lie. Her body wouldn't want that. It wouldn't welcome his cruelty. Not in such a manner.
“And your cries, the soft whimpers, those screams your lungs found a way to give life to, they called to me, my bitch. My little unwilling whore.” His finger pressed into her core, tapping for a moment against the treacherous hidden shell within her being. “You want more, not the pain, not right now, but you want more of my attention don't you.”
She whimpered, hips rocking forward, new pain pulling a path through the welts. He was
wrong. So why did her body ache, hips rock, her cunt ripple and tighten around his probing finger?
“I could take you now, here, in the chains.” His lips grazed the back of her neck. “I could have you moaning. The desire to thrust back against my cock would be more than you could fight, and you know it.”
A lie, a vicious, wicked lie.
“But I won't. Not this time. There are other things to train you with. Not just use, but the denial of release. And you will come to me soon enough, wanting to feel that delight, the rush as your body falls into the need, gives itself to me willingly, only to seek out my touch time and again.” His finger tapped again and again inside her body. Heat, need, desire, it didn't matter what name she gave to the sensations, it melded with the pain leaving her moaning, her ass pressed tight back against his body.
He couldn't leave her like this.
Strong hands released her from the chains, lifting her up as her body threatened to drop her to the floor in a shaking heap. He carried her to the cage, lowering her down into the confines of the long metal bars. A blanket dropped over her body, even that hurt. The welts reacting to the soft touch.
“Yes, you'll wait, my slut. There will be time for you to feel my touch at a more intimate level again tomorrow.”
She whimpered, peering out at him. What about his needs? She could see his arousal, the line of his cock pressed against the velvet of his black velvet britches. She'd not even noticed what he had been wearing until now. Dress clothes, for a party, or guests. Had they heard her screams?
“I am sure Alex will seek to regain some standing in my eyes and do her best to please me with that soft little mouth of hers.” He locked the cage, and smiled down at her. “You have warmth and water, a pity you decided to fight Alex earlier, you would have been fed. For now, though, you can live on just the water. There will be food for you tomorrow... if you behave.”
Behave? He meant to leave her here?
“Goodnight my pet, sleep well if you can. If not, well, it won't matter to me.” Not for a moment did he care about her body and the needs he'd awakened, or the pain she was in.
Without another word he left, locking the door behind him.
Alone.
Nothing but the cage, the pain and the single blanket.
CHAPTER SIX
Sleep came reluctantly to her abused and weary body. The blanket had been tossed aside only to be tugged close later on in the night. She'd been unable to lock out the pain. Her dreams left her shaking, uncertain. Those dreams she had no control of filled with painful, frightening images of men, women, beating her, touching, forcing her to unspeakable pleasures, thoughts that had only added to the growing pressure between her thighs.
Stiff, her body had become almost unwilling to move at all. Every breath she struggled to take only served to remind her of the welts across her back, ass and thighs.
He'd taken pleasure, an unholy, wicked delight in her pain, the screams, how she'd arched in the grip of the steel. Her wrists showed the bands, bruises in a circular grip about her slender limbs. Had he returned to the chamber during the night?
She peered out through the bars of the low cage, searching across the room. A bed, large with four posters, soft drapes and chains hanging from the wood, stood empty at the other end of the chamber. She couldn't tell if the bed had been used at all, but at a rough guess it seemed still made up.
Light filtered in through the heavy, plain drapes that covered the large windows. Day, but how late into it? She couldn't see a clock, nor catch a glimpse of just how high the sun was in the sky. Nothing more than tendrils of soft warmth graced the stone floor, gave hint of a beautiful day, something she craved the freedom to enjoy. It was almost like dangling a full cup of water in front of a man who hadn't had a drink in days.
She slowly rolled onto her stomach on the cage floor. The bars had, at least, been covered beneath her with a set of boards. Just as well with how she had needed to rest the night before. If the bars had pressed into her body she'd have not been able to sleep, even when exhaustion had claimed her.
She couldn't move without feeling some level of pain from the tight lines of welts. Even breathing reminded her of the beating she'd taken the night before.
He hadn't used her though. No, he'd had another for that. Alex. The bitch. If ever she had the chance to get her hands on the woman again, she'd go for the eyes this time, claw them from the other woman's face.
Images of taking the belt to the maid's back flashed through her mind, the desire to hear her scream, plead, beg for mercy as Celeste beat her into a bloody pulp. Such a delicious set of pictures. Blood. She'd whip the woman until her back split open, just to make her realize what it was like to be on the other end of things.
She'd seen tapestries lining the walls of the chamber she had first been shown to in the castle, or manor. The great set of rooms could have made up either, and without the chance to look outside, she'd be left guessing what set of walls held her captive. Tapestries, thick rugs, sheepskins were in places to cut the chill of the stone walls. Open fireplaces crackled with life. All the signs of a home well kept. Even the chamber she now rested in had a large and tended fireplace, filled with a bright fire that kept the room comfortably warm. A finely woven blanket of soft wool spoke of wealth. Davien had his hands on a lot of money, and no doubt the land to go with it. Even if she broke free from the cage, which was unlikely at best, she'd have nowhere to go. Not yet at least. He'd planned it well by taking her from her homelands, reducing the chances of freedom into a non existent glimmer.
Where was he?
Did he plan on leaving her in the cage all day?
Grumbling under her breath, she reached for the small bowl of water, and took a few sips of the much needed refreshment. He'd arrive when he thought it was time, and not before. She'd learned quickly, that he alone now dictated the path of her life.
* * * *
“Sleep well my pet?” he inquired, almost as if he didn't notice the cage holding her prisoner.
“I did, of course. Alex was most accommodating to my needs.”
No doubt the woman had been, another reason to take a chunk out of her throat the next time she had the chance. Jealousy? How the hell could she be jealous of him spending time with another woman? She didn't want anything to do with him. Did she?
“Time to get you out of that cage, we have much to attend to this day, and those welts will need tending.” He leaned down and unlocked the cage door. “Out you come, little slut, crawl. Remember, you are still nothing more than a beast.”
She wanted to growl at him, snarl, or spit, but it wouldn't have done any good. The last thing she needed were new welts on her already beaten body. With a scowl firmly planted on her face Celeste crawled out of the cage to his feet.
“Good, you're learning. Albeit slowly.”
Learning what, to judge when to attack and when to wait? That was a skill she had been forced to learn long before he'd snatched her from the side of the road. Too many hotheads on a farm or attending the market only resulted in bloodshed. Anger simmering in the pit of her stomach while she waited at his feet. She kept her head up, barely aware her body was covered with little more than welts and her own soft hair.
“Pretty pet, you do mark well. By tomorrow they will have started to fade, but only if they are tended now.” She frowned at his words, confused. Why would he wish to tend them when he'd gone to so much trouble to set them in place to begin with? “You don't understand do you, beast? There is no point in owning an animal who is unable to serve its purpose. Though there are times I will relish your body being covered in welts for days on end those same welts will be cared for, that you might serve me all the better the following days.”
Her knuckles strained, turning white under the pressure. His ankle was close enough to bite, to tear into, tempting her with every breath. If she tried to bite him the beating she'd taken the night before would be nothing compared to what he would put her through again.
“You're learning,” he murmured, reaching down as he grasped her by the hair, pulling her upward with a firm grip. “Kneel up, thighs parted, I need to get a better look at your back.”
Her back was tight, the skin taut as she moved fully back onto her heels. The position felt strange, awkward, uncomfortable, but she held it, trying not to flinch as his fingers brushed over her back. Each light touch explored the welts that had marked her tender flesh. She could recall every stroke, the caress of pain, how she'd cried, screamed and gasped for breath.
“No splitting of the skin, good. I'm not ready to leave scars on you just yet.” Cool salve worked into the welts with a near tender touch. Strange how the hand that had given her such pain now worked diligently to ease the lingering cries of pain that howled from her back. She shuddered as the pain eased into a form of pleasure, lulled by his caress. “When the time comes I'll mark you as my own. But not until I deem you worthy, fit to show such a mark to those around us.”
How many had he marked in the past? More, no doubt, than she cared to know about. Men like him had dozens of women, slaves, whores, creatures they bent to their will, then cast off when they had worn them out. What would be her fate once she reached that point? Who knew? It could be death, or being sold to a brothel.
Better that death claimed her than such a fate as a camp follower or whore who answered the call of any with the money to command her.
“Keep still, slut.”
She was trying to, fighting to stay in position as his fingers slid the salve over each welt. It stung at first, then eased, as pain become a cool wave. Tension drained from her body, her hands uncurling from the tight fists resting on her thighs, shoulders slumping as a soft whimper gained life.
“Good, you'll heal soon enough with this. By tomorrow it will feel little more than a bad case of the sun.” She listened as he closed the tub of salve and set it down to one side. “Stand.”
