by Vonna Harper
He waited until her ass cheek stopped jiggling then struck her with the switch. The first few times he’d hit her with it, he’d been fighting the inner demon. The demon was just beneath the surface but at bay for the moment which left him free to concentrate on punishment and lessons.
“Repeat after me.” He switched her three times in rapid succession but with less force so the marks barely showed. “I know my place.”
“I, ah, I know my place, Master.”
“I will never for a moment believe I’m my master’s equal.”
He let her get through half of the sentence before hitting her again. She whimpered and tightened her ass muscles but finished. He thought about giving her more to parrot but that meant they’d communicate on some level when he needed to distance himself from her.
As he circled her lewdly displayed body, he walked heavy so she’d know where he was.
Part of becoming a trainer had called for letting another Carnal employee use several training tools on him. He’d risked breaking a tooth from clenching his mouth, but he’d gone into the session swearing he wouldn’t cry out, and as he’d done as a boy, he hadn’t. He did, however, understood why slaves turned into blubbering messes under a whip.
After the pain lesson, his mentor and he had poured themselves stiff drinks and waxed long and philosophically about the mental aspect of a beating. Instead of admitting that he’d once been down that road, he’d said he could only guess what being immobilized while whipped did to a slave’s psyche. His mentor had admonished him to listen, watch, and learn.
Even though he’d done that numerous times since then, he once more opened his mind to what this one might be thinking and experiencing.
Pain of course, now measured with longer and longer spaces in between each blow. In contrast to what he’d subjected her to at the beginning, he was only swatting her now, secure in the knowledge that she feared he’d turn on her again at any moment.
Let the beast out? Surrender to the rage that one night had given the boy he’d once been the courage to bury a knife in the gang member who’d stolen his lunch money?
Dive back in time and rewrite his personal history. More than stand up to his stepmother. Punish her. Kill her and the sperm donor who hadn’t protected his son.
“Hah, hah, hah!”
Caught by the slave’s inhuman grunts, he again jerked himself back to reality. Between the ache in his shoulder and her quivering body he knew he’d stepped over the damnable line after all.
He continued striking her vulnerable flesh but consciously now, bringing himself down.
She’d broken a rule with her climax-fueled thoughts of equality, but he’d already punished her for that. Now was for entertainment on his part and endurance on hers. Blow by blow he backed off on the force behind what he was doing. She still grunted but probably no longer from pain. Maybe she was humming in time with his rhythm, maybe she was comforting herself. Whichever it was, he’d allow her her small relief. She had, after all, let him come in her mouth.
No, not let, more like surrender.
Impatient with himself for letting semantics distract him, he placed the switch on her back and gripped the still-protruding whip between thumb and forefinger. Whistling, he began rolling the whip about. He took care to also move it up and down in her rear channel as he did.
At first her ass muscles gripped the invasion, but as he kept after her, she began to relax.
“Don’t know what to make of this, do you? Discomfort followed by a strange new sensation and more proof of who owns your body, never forget that.”
“Huh, huh, huh.”
“That’s right,” he fairly crooned. He took hold of her right ass cheek and pushed it aside so he could watch as he leaned the whip forward and back, side to side. His cock twitched.
“Good and bad. Gentle and hard. And always beyond your control.”
The way she was positioned, he had a fairly clear view of her pussy. Moisture glittered.
“Interesting.” He spoke softly so she had to strain to hear. “I don’t believe this juice is from when you climaxed. New then.”
He waited a good fifteen seconds while continuing to rock the whip handle about.
Goose bumps had formed on the back of her neck, and she began shivering. Wishing to hell he could climb into her mind, something he seldom wanted to do, he reached between her thighs and stroked the length of her sex.
“Oh God,” she hissed.
His fingers were soaked with sticky proof of her arousal. He thought about ramming them into her mouth but that would be a waste of a perfectly good training moment.
“You hate this.” He worked the whip some more. “Hate the way your body’s responding.
You’ve never needed self-control more, but it’s never been more elusive.” He nearly drew the improvised ass plug out then reversed direction. She grunted repeatedly, the goose bumps marched down her spine, and she tried to lift her ass toward him.
“What’s the matter, slave? Something you want?”
“No,” she muttered after a telling pause.
He slapped her buttocks. “That’s a damn lie, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Just yes? Who am I, slut?”
“Master. You’re my master.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Don’t ever forget that.” Damek again slapped her. “Spread your legs, slut. Show me why you’re worthy of the title sex slave.”
Watching her knees slide apart, he knew she couldn’t maintain that position for long.
Too bad because he was far from done with her. Judging by how her back was bowed, he concluded she’d done her best to obey. The adjustment changed the angle of what protruded from her ass. He let go of it then tapped it smartly.
“Ah, hah.”
Leaning over, he tapped it again. At the same time he slipped three fingers deep into her sopping sex hole. It took coordination to keep the whip handle moving while vigorously pumping her vagina.
“Master, Master, Master.”
Music to his ears. Ignoring the strain in his own back, he doubled his effort. The switch slid off her back. She rocked under his assault, broken female flesh. He couldn’t make sense of what she was saying, doubted they were words.
These were the moments he lived for career-wise. She’d stepped over a line she probably didn’t know existed. No matter what happened the rest of her life, she’d never forget the day a man had claimed her body and turned her into a sex-hungry beast.
“Which is it, slave? Do you love or hate me?”
Given her violent shaking and helpless bleating, he wondered if she was beyond comprehending the question. He had two choices. Either he’d go on stressing her until she passed out or he’d punish her for ignoring him. Surprised because the choice didn’t immediately come to him, he drew out the improvised ass plug and ran his thumb into the still-gaping hole. He moved to her side which changed his view of the sweating, moaning creature.
Her back was a thrill of gentle curves and soft flesh, her buttocks rich and ripe. Her breasts shook like wild things.
He owned her, had hauled her into a dark sensual cage and was remaking her. Even if he let her go today, she’d never return to what she’d once been.
The fingers in her pussy threatened to cramp so he slowed. Her moans quieted. To his surprise he wondered what she’d left behind. He knew the basics of course—domineering parents, a desperate flight to escape their tyranny, being ill-equipped for life’s realities and making her own decisions, working at whatever paid the bills, clinging to a man who didn’t want to be clung to, lacking the courage to blow the whistle on her employer.
And now this.
Did she want back the pitiful life she’d had or in ways she’d never acknowledge or understand did she embrace what had been forced on her?
Did she want him?
Blindsided by the question, he stopped his dual attack and knelt beside her. His fingers were still in her which, he tol
d himself, was the only reason he still felt connected to her. She lifted her head and turned it toward him, but she couldn’t see his expression which was how it needed to be.
When he was young, he’d begged for a dog. His stepmother had said no, flat out no. His tearful admission to his father that he needed something to hug and love had fallen on deaf ears. At the lack of comprehension in the old man’s eyes, he’d learned a painful but necessary lesson. The sperm donor couldn’t see into his child’s heart.
“Master?”
The slave’s breathless question rescued him from his past, yet a small connection remained. She was just as overwhelmed and lost as he’d been on that long-ago day.
“Lessons,” he ground out, relying on lectures he’d given numerous times to numerous slaves. “Lessons in all the ways your body turns against you when you’re in the hands of someone who knows what he’s doing.”
“I hate this.”
“I don’t think so.” He ran his hand over her pussy and deposited her juices on her spine.
“There’s a lot going on there but hate isn’t part of it.”
“That’s not what I—it’s me I hate.”
He had no recollection of deciding to take off the blindfold and was surprised to find himself staring at her confused expression. Now that he’d gone this far, he decided to take the next step so helped her into an upright position. The smell of her arousal caught his cock’s attention.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
She blinked several times then looked down at her breasts with their rocklike nipples. “I make it so easy for you. No matter how hard I try not to, I get aroused.”
She wasn’t calling him Master but bringing that up would get in the way of what needed to be said. “I wouldn’t be much good at my job if I couldn’t get to you.”
“I’m not sure.” She licked her lips and rolled her shoulders. He wasn’t ready to release her wrists. It wasn’t as if they were equals.
“Not sure about what?”
“That it’s all you.” She stared at the ground. “I love sex, have for a long time. It doesn’t take much to turn me on—you knew that before you captured me.”
“Yeah.”
“Am—am I more valuable because of that?”
“Yeah, you are.”
Her nostrils flared. “My parents accused me of being boy crazy but I wasn’t, not back then. I was a virgin who didn’t understand her body. Then—after I ran away—maybe you already know this—an older man let me move in with him in exchange for—It hurt the first time but after that…”
Her disjointed speech didn’t surprise him. What did was her ability to put any words together. Somehow her need to confess was overriding the pain and sexual stimulation he’d subjected her to.
“For the record,” he said, “Carnal didn’t research your background in detail. We learned just what we needed to for our purposes.”
“Which was…” She lifted her head. “Which was that I’m a horny bitch.”
He laughed and fingered the breast closest to him. “It’s a lot more complicated than that but yes, I’d say you’re horny.”
“I don’t want to be like that.”
“Yes you do.” Only half believing what he was doing, he brushed her hair back from her face. “Otherwise what are you?”
Mouth open, she stared around at the world he’d forced her into. At length her gaze settled on the closest camera.
“I don’t know,” she muttered. “Master.”
He didn’t want to feel sorry for her, damn it, didn’t want to spend a single second wondering what was going on inside her, but it was too late for that. He’d had conversations with other trainees but they’d followed a prescribed route. He’d demand they do and say certain things and they’d comply. Sometimes, particularly early in their training, he’d insist they call themselves animals. They had no choice but to do so.
“Then this is the right place for you to be,” he said at length. “I’m giving you structure and rules to obey. You don’t need anything else.”
Still not looking at him, she slowly shook her head. He tightened his hold on her nipple, but she didn’t seem to notice. After the better part of a minute, she sank down so her buttocks rested on her heels. “Maybe I don’t need more, Master.”
Turning her into a finely trained slave wasn’t this easy, but today they’d taken a huge step in that direction. If he had a regret, and he wasn’t sure he did, it was the impending loss of her ability to think for herself.
Once again the lines of her body caught his attention. Her back was slightly bowed, her flanks and hips a smooth tanned flow despite the abrasions. Her hair needed attention and her pussy needed another shaving. Those things gave her an untamed appearance. Unlike a perfectly trained sex slave, imperfections etched her and made her human. If she was his he’d pierce her breasts and hang golden rings from them but leave her otherwise untouched. Most of the time he wouldn’t hide her long neck under a collar—unless he wanted to dive deeper into his role as master.
The way she now watched him, he wondered if she knew what was going through his mind. If she did, how was she reacting?
Maybe, and he completely understood that, she lived to escape his harsh treatment.
Maybe he was preferable to the unknown.
As she started rolling her shoulders again, pain contorted her features. He undid her wrists’ restraints. Nostrils flaring, she brought her arms forward and shook them.
“Thank you Master.”
She’d slipped back into the role he’d been forcing on her, as should he. Why then was he stepping behind her, straddling her feet, and massaging her neck?
The way she sighed, he half expected her to start purring. If Carnal management happened to look at this particular film they might call him in to explain his actions—which right now he couldn’t do.
“Thank you,” she repeated. “That feels so good.”
To the best of his recollection, no slave had ever said that to him but then he didn’t think he’d ever given one reason.
“So you’re grateful, are you?”
“Yes, very.”
“Be specific.”
She looked over her shoulder at him. No apprehension clouded her features. “If you want sex I’ll—I shouldn’t say that because you can take me whenever you want. Maybe you aren’t interested in—I’m sorry.”
He’d been doing this long enough that he’d bragged he could sense an aroused female from across the room. Placing his hands around her neck from behind, he massaged the tendons there. Her fingers fluttered over her thighs.
“Don’t touch your pussy. Let it talk to you.”
“Master?”
He waited until she was looking forward again. “Tell me what I did to you a few minutes ago. What about your ass?”
“You, ah, put something in it.”
“Something?”
Her head started to droop. Then she lifted it. “The whip handle. You moved it around inside me. You also made it vibrate. And your fingers—you fucked me with them.”
“Did you come?”
She started running her hands over her thighs, paused. “I was so close. I’d started to—then you stopped. How did you know when to do that, Master?”
The Master had been tucked on, an afterthought.
“I know women,” he said when the truth was he knew their bodies far better than he did their minds. Stepping closer so his cock pressed against the back of her head, he reached around and trailed his fingers over her breasts. She held her breath then let it escape.
To his surprise he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Damn it, he could write the book on forcefully pushing a female’s buttons, but seduction was something else.
Seduction? Hell no.
“Master?”
She shuddered and tried to twist to the side. He belatedly realized he’d started raking her breasts. Just like that the well-paid slave trainer he’d been for longer than he wanted to
think about reasserted himself. He knew how inflict pain, punish, and force. To train for monetary gain.
“Hands and knees,” he commanded. “Ass up.”
At least she knew enough not to question the sudden shift. He hadn’t gone into today’s session with the goal of fucking her twice. Truth was he was no longer a randy buck. He needed recuperation time.
But not now. His throbbing erection was calling the shots.
Careful not to risk distraction by studying her, he planted himself behind her ass, roughly pulled her cheeks apart, bent his knees, and plugged her still-dripping hole.
“Ah, yes,” she muttered. “Thank you.”
Trainees didn’t willingly say that, damn it! Experience warned him to remind her of her lowly place in the pecking order, but his cock didn’t heed the message. He’d just housed it in a warm, soft, wet cave and it wanted to stay there. Instead of hard need, he felt relaxed. Slave training was more physically and psychologically demanding than anyone on the outside would ever grasp. There was no such thing as bringing less than his A game if he wanted to remain employed. Emotions didn’t belong.
Neither of them moved for long seconds. Then he started massaging her spine. Blowing out a long breath, she pushed herself against him.
He responded by sliding deeper into her. A few of his fellow trainers—mostly the new ones—plundered their trainees’ orifices from the beginning. Not taking advantage of captive naked female flesh took tremendous self-control, but he’d always delayed sex as long as possible. Hell, twice he’d delivered a slave for sale without having personally fucked her. Truth was, surrendering his cock to a vagina, mouth, or ass was more than a little disconcerting. What if he lost himself in one of those openings? What if she somehow wrestled self-control from his grasp?
The questions tried to assert themselves today, but it was too late. He was inside her, pieces of his mind breaking off while primal beast strengthened and grew.
Don’t fight. Enjoy. Be man.
Grateful for a sense of direction, he began rutting. She held herself firm and ready with her head down and limbs braced for attack. In contrast to her straining muscles, her pussy pillowed and blanketed him. Made him feel as if he was coming home.
