by Vonna Harper
“In your dreams.” He’d called Reno mostly to re-establish his mindset—and to talk a little shop. “She’s submissive all right but not down to her core. I see it in her eyes. It’ll be interesting to see if I can push her past that.”
“And then what?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked even though Reno’s tone had clued him in.
“You have to ask? I pulled you off one slave before you killed her. This time I’m not around to stop you.”
It won’t happen again, he wanted to say, but the beast that was his temper had broken loose more than once. He changed the subject by asking Reno how he was doing with his trainee. Reno didn’t tell him enough to build a real conversation on, probably because Reno was still thinking about the incident. The only thing Damek really remembered of that day was growing irritation with a trainee’s inability to follow simple directions. Everything in the wake of his pissed state was foggy—up until Reno had hauled him off a suffering, sobbing slave-in-training.
Damek finished his beer during a discussion about the organization’s decision to close down a Midwest training facility because of access issues. Then, although it was only partly true, he told Reno he had paperwork to do.
“Something you need to know,” Reno said. “I told Stoker to keep an eye on you.”
As he hung up, the edges of Damek’s world closed. For a moment he hated the man he saw as the closest thing he had to a friend in this business, but Reno had acted in the corporation’s best interests. A skilled sex-slave trainee was a rare commodity and Reno wanted to make sure his friend was working at full capacity.
“Don’t worry about it,” Stoker said. “Reno’s just covering his bases.”
“I thought you were watching the news.” He jerked his head at the flat screen TV, then noted that the sound was muted.
“I figured that sooner or later Reno would tell you about our conversation.” Stoker rolled his empty bottle between his palms. “This job asks a hell of a lot of a man. All that naked pussy around twenty-four seven isn’t easy.”
“No, it isn’t.” He rubbed his cock through his jeans. “Especially at the beginning when we make them wait for it.”
His explanation was the simplified version. Via trial and error, Carnal trainers had determined that slowly introducing trainees to their new role in life made a greater impact than forcing them to fuck from the beginning. The technique that worked most of the time was to rob sluts of ownership over their bodies, using pain and control as the ultimate tool. Once helplessness had been beaten into them, it was time to move onto the next step—sexual submission. As a result, the classic definition of rape didn’t usually apply.
“You ever miss that?” Stoker asked. “Being able to ream a bitch just because you feel like it?”
“Hell yes. Fortunately, we have approved outlets for all that energy.” He demonstrated by pretending to snap a whip.
Willow dreaded being taken into the training room. Even though she knew she couldn’t win the battle, it took all her self-control not to fight as Master Damek pulled back the curtain and waited for her to walk ahead of him.
At least he’d given her more gruel and two bottles of water this morning. He’d even allowed her to brush her teeth. Despite the unwieldy wrist restraints, she’d been able to feed herself after a fashion. He hadn’t given her an eating utensil, maybe because he thought she’d try to stab him with a plastic spoon. She wished she could have when he commanded her to carry the waste bucket into the corridor and dump the contents into a pit. The moment she’d opened the metal lid, she’d nearly thrown up from the stench. If only he’d let her take a shower.
Once she was in the cavernous room, she took quick note of the other residents. Two women and their handlers were already in there. One woman was on the gynecological table while the other was being forced into a small cage. Master Damek exchanged pleasantries with the men. The women, of course, didn’t say anything.
It was cool in here this morning, not that it bothered the properly dressed men. If she could, she would have wrapped her arms around her middle, but of course she couldn’t. She’d spent much of the night trying to find a comfortable position for her arms, and her wrists were chafed from the heavy metal. Her nerves still cried everywhere from the beating, and she hadn’t ached this much since her first and last day at a hardcore gym.
“Over there.” He pointed at a spot some distance from the others where several substantial rings had been driven into the floor.
With no choice, she trudged over to where he’d indicated. The rings seemed to have been made from the same gauge metal as the chains between her wrists. Hearing a rattling sound, she turned toward it to discover that Master had left her and gone to one of the cupboards. What kind of meek beast was she becoming? He’d unlocked her leash before bringing her into the room. Why hadn’t she put up some resistance, maybe run?
Because the only door to the barn was locked, she didn’t have the key, and her wrists’
restraints were so heavy she could barely lift her arms.
Master Damek’s expression as he joined her let her know he was looking forward to his day. Swamped by dread, she nearly dropped to her knees so she could beg for mercy, but if she did, he’d be right. She’d have proven herself to be a submissive heart and soul.
He carried several chains much like the one between her wrists as well as what she feared were ankle cuffs. The moment those things were on her, she wouldn’t be able to defend herself—as if she could now.
His smile carried no warmth and too much superiority as he locked one of the chains to her collar. The weight dragged her head down and found a home between her breasts.
“On your knees, slave.”
Don’t do this, please. She looked down to see a rubber mat near one of the imbedded rings.
“Knees, now.”
“What—“ she started, but if he’d been going to tell her what he intended to do, wouldn’t he have already done so?
Hating herself and him, she did as he’d commanded. Her knees rested on the rubber.
Grateful as she was for the small amount of comfort, she guessed he planned to keep her there for a long time.
After dropping the other chains near her, he knelt nearby so he was facing her. Taking hold of her neck chain, he pulled it toward him and down. She tried to remain upright, then gave into his greater strength. Horrified, she watched as he hooked the chain to one of the floor rings. The only way she could lift her head was by crawling closer to the ring, but she didn’t dare unless he gave her permission. With her face now maybe a foot off the floor, she noticed that another ring was directly below her shoulder.
Reaching under her, Master Damek fastened her oversized handcuffs to the ring. She could barely move her upper body. He stood, and she pictured him studying her lewdly-exposed back and buttocks.
Don’t cry. No matter what else you do today, don’t cry!
“Too bad you can’t see yourself.” He ran what had to be more chain from the back of her head, down her spine, and between her ass cheeks. “Because you’ve assumed a position you’ll be assuming many times from now on.” He started dragging the chain over her anus.
“Your legs aren’t yet far enough apart, but I’ll soon remedy that. In the meantime, I want you to think about the symbolism behind this position. It’s the ultimate in submission. Your head is down as befitting a fully-trained slave honoring her master. In addition, two of your holes are available for use. If you were able to lift your head, you’d be three for three.”
She should have fought! Done something, anything, instead of giving in the way she had.
Self-loathing rolled over her until she couldn’t think of anything else. The powerful man stood over her undoubtedly contemplating his options because she’d made it too damn easy for him.
But she was so tired and weak, confused and frightened.
“I had a discussion about you last night with a colleague. It left me wondering a
bout your self-esteem. Going by what I’m seeing now—“ He slapped her buttocks. “I’d say it’s almost non-existent. That’s going to lower your value with some potential owners.”
Every time he’d mentioned slavery and ownership yesterday, her mind had rebelled.
Despite her position, it wasn’t any different today as she breathed in the smell of rubber, cement, and fear. This demeaned creature wasn’t her. It couldn’t be! She was still doing M&M
road Construction’s books. Every time someone complimented her efficiency, she floated through the rest of the day. Of course she always responded in a self-deprecating way because she wasn’t wired to toot her horn.
Then she’d discovered the company was using inferior products and presenting inflated invoices and everything had changed—she just hadn’t done anything about it.
“You aren’t interested in why you might not bring a top price?” He punctuated his question by slapping the inside of her left thigh.
Why won’t I?” she blurted. Despite her outburst, she widened her stance as she knew he wanted her to. He again had full view of her external sex organs.
He slapped the chain against her right thigh. “What did you forget?”
“Master.” Her tongue stumbled over the word. “Master Damek.”
“That’s right. I’m going to have to add this incident to the list of transgressions you’ve committed. Just because a number of potential owners won’t be interested in someone without spirit doesn’t mean I’m not determined to turn out the best product I’m capable of.”
She didn’t realize he’d knelt behind her until he reached between her legs and flattened his hand over her sex. She’d lifted one leg intending to kick him before she realized what she’d done. Fighting fear, she waited him out.
“My bad.” He squeezed. “I’m asking too much of you at this point. You have to earn even the smallest measure of freedom, slave. I’ve always gone by that rule and it has never failed me.”
Not for the first time, she was unable to concentrate on what he was saying. He was going to hurt her, she just didn’t know when, how, or how much. The why didn’t matter, just that she survived.
Harsh metal closed around one ankle and then the other. Her guess that he was attaching something to the cuffs was borne out when he pulled on her right ankle until she was in danger of losing her balance. Yet another ominous click said he’d locked her leg in place. He did the same with her left, leaving her rear end widely spread.
“Concentration time, slave. I’ll say it again to make sure you understand. Your only task at the moment is to take note of how your body is positioned. Have you done so?”
“Yes, Master,” she said to the ground under her.
“It isn’t comfortable, is it?”
“No, Master.”
“Which is immaterial as far as your owner is concerned. What he wants to see is his possession where he can use her without having to put out much effort. He might decide to fuck you like this.”
Something cold touched her vaginal opening. She belatedly realized he was using a water bottle. It had taken most of the night for the sexual fire he’d lit in her to die. She dreaded its return since needing him that way made her horribly dependent on him.
“Maybe he won’t be interested in putting his pecker in your hole. Maybe he’ll be in a playful mood, like this.”
With Master’s help, the bottle slid into her. Her vaginal muscles tightened down, not in an attempt to expel but in welcome. Her inner walls were becoming numb from the cold while the rest of her body was already ablaze.
“Keep it there. No matter what happens, don’t let it fall out.”
Willing to do whatever it took to placate him, she tried to comply. All too soon, however, her body’s juices coated the plastic and the bottle slipped out. Looking down and back, she watched it roll away. Her breasts hung inches from the cement, her nipples like rocks.
“Damn slave. One simple task and you can’t pull it off. I have no choice but to punish you.”
His tone told her he was amused, not angry. He was going to enjoy hurting her while she—“Sometimes your master will want to see your forehead on the floor in an act of ultimate submission. Do it, now.”
Her head smacked the cement before she knew what she’d done. Blood rushed to her temple and her nipples scraped the hard, rough surface. Master had restrained her this way so she’d think about the contrast between soft flesh and harsh metal. Maybe she should tell him she understood with every fiber of her being, that being helpless was like a heavy blanket covering her from head to foot.
His shoes didn’t make much noise as he moved about. Twice she heard other masculine voices and once a woman gasped. A few days ago she’d lived in a decently decorated apartment. Now she couldn’t remember anything about it. How much longer before she forgot everything about her prior life?
Prior. Gone forever.
A bone-deep chill touched her spine and worked through her. She was shaking helplessly when he pressed something against her rear opening. Alarmed, she tried to lift her head.
“No.” A fiery line seared her left flank. “Keep that damn head down.”
Even though she was afraid it wouldn’t make any difference and he’d whip her again, she did as he’d ordered. The surprisingly pleasant sensation around her anus returned, and she realized he was covering it with a slick substance. He took such a long time that she relaxed a little. Then the pleasure ended, replaced by pressure. He was pushing an ass plug into her, swirling it about, the invasion relentless. Self-loathing reasserted itself. He’d made sure she couldn’t resist. Hell, she couldn’t even move.
The people she’d worked with not long ago would never know what had happened to her. Those who cared enough to ponder would probably assume she’d moved in the wake of her firing. The rest would soon forget her existence. And Mitch? Would he ever try to get in touch with her?
Maybe he knew where she was.
The hard, large invader pushed past her body’s resistance only to withdraw only to return. Each time it seemed to go deeper into her ass, stretching her walls as it did.
“You might get a bung hole loving owner,” Master said. “He’ll want this opening stretched—not all the way of course because there’s nothing like resistance, but he doesn’t want to risk his cock getting pinched.”
She’d had a bowel movement shortly before Master had come for her. At the time she’d told herself he might not notice. How wrong she’d been.
“Do you know what this looks like?” he asked.
“No. Yes. Yes, Master.”
“Which the hell is it? Never mind, I’ll tell you. It’s roughly egg-shaped so the fattest part can plug your innards. Your puckered flesh will close around the smallest section making it damn hard to expel. Go on. See if you can get rid of it.”
He’d thrown her a challenge she knew she couldn’t win. Even more disconcerting, her anus felt as if it was about to split open. He had to be keeping the widest part at her entrance, distending her, readying her for some unknown man’s cock.
Suddenly terrified, she lifted her head an inch and bellowed. He responded by shoving the plug in the rest of the way. Seconds later he started slashing her buttocks with whatever he’d used a little while ago. Yesterday he hadn’t broken the flesh but maybe today—“Self-control, slave. Damn it, get a handle on it.”
Would he say that if the tables were turned? For some unknown reason, the question calmed her a little. She was his to play with, teach, and punish. That didn’t mean she had to drown in every pit he threw her into.
She’d panicked over the thought of being reamed in the ass, but that wasn’t any worse than being chained down, butt-plugged, and flogged. Maybe it would be better.
“Position,” he said. “Position. Vital to your training. Pleasing to your owner. Something to take pride in.”
He struck her every few seconds so she found a cadence in the blows. Much as she craved the outlet that had come wi
th screaming, she vowed not to lose control like that again.
Master Damek was taking her mind and body where it had never been, restraining her in ways she’d never thought possible. Because she couldn’t stop him, she’d do the only thing left to her.
She’d live in the pain. The humiliation. The ass plug, heavy collar, splayed legs, dangling breasts. Become one with the unwanted world.
Survive.
Chapter Eleven
“Let’s see if you can do it again.”
Willow stood under yet another of the large room’s endless hanging chains. Master had hobbled her, cuffed her hands behind her, and connected them to the chain. That done, he’d pulled up on the chain until her arms were as high as they’d go and she was bent over. Once he’d had her where he wanted her, he’d placed leather straps over and under her breasts which squeezed them together. As if that wasn’t enough, he’d forced a large rubber ball into her mouth and secured it under her chin, against her cheeks, even the top of her head. He’d fastened the back of the head harness to the overhead chain so she could barely move her upper body.
Some five or six feet away, one of the other women stood tied much the same way.
Despite her own situation, Willow couldn’t take her eyes off the silent, nervous creature. Did her eyes mirror the same helpless expression?
Helpless, not hopeless. Don’t ever forget that.
“Restraint comes in all forms, slave,” Master told her. “It’s limited only by an owner’s imagination. I touched on this issue earlier. No master is interested in a slave who has lost her fear of him. Men the world over live constrained by their society’s conventions. They have responsibilities. They may work for someone else or run their own businesses. They need to keep a roof over their and their families’ heads, if they have them. Only the rich who truly comprehend what large amounts of money will give them have access to the outlet a great many men crave.”
He was talking nonsense again. At least she told herself it was. She didn’t give a damn about some man she’d never met—unless he bought her.
