by Lily White
Gripping the bottom hem of my shirt, he started to rip it up and over my head. I struggled, of course, but there wasn’t much I could do but attempt to hold my bound hands in front of my body to keep the material in place. He was too strong. Within seconds he held my hands above my head, while using his free hand to bring the shirt up and allowing it to bunch around my throat so that he could stroke his palm down to massage my breasts.
My entire body shook. Anger, disgust, shame: they were warring inside my blood, adrenaline forcing its way through me causing me to tremble uncontrollably beneath his hold. I struggled to calm down, fought to keep the ability to remember everything I’d learned in my career as a psychologist. I had to get to him, to throw him off his game.
“Are you going to answer me, Courtesan? Or do we have to make this more painful?”
The moniker he was assigning me was odd. Believing that it reduced me to property, made it easier for him to hurt me, I set out to regain my status in his eyes as that of a human being with feelings and emotions just like any other person.
“My name is Claire Elliot. I am a daughter, a sister, a friend. I am 31 years old. I am a teacher. I am not property.”
Pinching my nipple from over my bra, he caused me to squeal in pain. He didn’t release it, but loosened his grip to roll it between his fingers until it was hard.
Despite my body’s reaction to his touch, I forced myself to continue.
“I have feelings. Pain, happiness, sadness and fear. I love and I am loved. I have a life and a name.”
His hand slipped beneath the white lacy material of my bra. The heat of his palm tingled along the skin of my breast as he cupped it.
“I have dreams…” My voice choked on that word because it reminded me of the future that I was no longer certain I had. “…I want to some day be a mother and a wife.”
He laughed. Still fondling my breast, he leaned down so that his face was close to mine. “That will not be happening.”
Suddenly releasing me, he stepped away, moving in a direction other than towards the door to the room. I heard him open a door and the sound of objects being moved around. I couldn’t remain calm anymore and I pushed myself up from the mattress, huddling into a corner between the bed and wall. I was still in place on the mattress, I couldn’t run because of the chains, but I still pressed myself into a ball. I wanted to believe that I could escape him.
I knew, however, that escape was not going to happen.
Finally finding what he’d been looking for, he closed the door. The latch clicked softly, followed by the sound of his approaching steps. I tried again, desperate to transform myself from what he wanted me to be, back into the person that had been stolen from her life. I was reaching out to the humanity within him, making him rethink the acts he would commit against me.
With a trembling voice, I said, “My name is Claire Elliot. I am a daughter, a sister, a friend. I am 31 years old. I am a teacher. I am not…
A sound resonated through the room interrupting my words. It was distinct and recognizable. Tape being ripped from a roll.
“Yes. I know. You’re not property.”
Lunging forward he caught me quickly, wrapping thick tape over my mouth and around my head. I’d been silenced and he pushed off the bed, crossing the room to open what I now assumed was a closet.
“You have feelings. Pain, happiness, sadness and fear. You love and you are loved. You have a life and a name. You have dreams…” He paused, sick enjoyment thick on his next words. “…You want to be a mother and a wife someday.”
I didn’t know what was worse, the fact that I’d been rendered mute or the fact that he openly mocked my attempts to confuse him.
“I told you before, Ms. Elliot. You no longer have a life besides the one I give you. Your name does not matter, your family is long dead and your only dreams at this point should be to please me.”
Stepping forward, he knelt on the bed in front of me. His face was so close to mine that his breath brushed along my face. “Next time you want to attempt manipulating me, I suggest you use something less…amateur and common. I am a professional. I have transformed more women than I can count. Attempting to remind your attacker that you’re human should be saved for men who are new to this type of crime. I recognize that you’re human and I know that you had a life before this moment. What I’m telling you now is that I don’t care. You are nothing more than a business venture and when I’m done with you, you will be a courtesan.”
His hands locked around my ankles over the shackles and he pulled me so that I lay flat on the mattress. I attempted to push him away with my bound hands, but it was simple for him to grab them by the cord wrapped tightly around my wrists and lift them over my head.
I struggled to look at him. I didn’t know if I really wanted to see his face, but if the chance for an escape existed at all, I wanted to leave here with the ability to identify my attacker.
He made quick work of my hands, securing them to the iron frame of the bed before turning me over onto my stomach, further tightening the binds. Whimpers escaped me, my fear and terror taking over and reacting to his actions without my ability to stop them. I couldn’t speak and it kept me from begging for my life, for him to stop what I knew he was about to do.
I think I’d been thankful for that. I didn’t want to beg, to reduce myself to something inferior or subservient to him.
His fingers slipped along my spine as a light tickle, but then lifted when he reached my bottom. Moving to my feet, he grabbed the chains, tugging on them and securing them so that my legs were spread and tight to the mattress.
The bed shook when he removed his weight. The closet opened again, he shifted the objects in search of something and when the light click of the handle sounded, I started to cry.
Only a few steps more and he was slipping open what sounded like a drawer. It closed and then he was next to me again.
I felt the cold metal slide along my inner thigh at the same time I felt my pencil skirt loosen. My skirt fell to the sides once he’d cut it fully open and the cold air of the room rushed over me. Tears streamed down my face and I hated the sniffles that accompanied them.
My body jumped when his palm ran along my inner thigh, sweeping up until his finger was slipping over my panties between my legs. I cried harder.
I was so afraid of him touching me, violating me and using me that I hadn’t considered what else he might do.
The slap of something thin and hard across the backs of my legs reminded me.
A scream tore from my throat. Long and hard, it was as if the pain he’d just caused would rip me apart if I didn’t set it free.
He was pacing beside me. “I gave you rules, Ms. Elliot. I expect them to be followed.”
A second slap felt like fire across my skin.
“When you do not follow those rules, you will be punished.”
Another slap, this time across my lower back. It wasn’t enough to slice the skin, but it still felt like I’d been branded by a hot steel rod.
My throat was sore, tears trailing in thick rivulets now as a result of the pain. I couldn’t stop screaming, some in response to the slaps and others in response to my own fear.
Another across my calves and I struggled uselessly against my chains.
I screamed again when I felt his lips pressed against my ear. After waiting for me to stop, he said, “Fight against me again and the next slaps will be across the bottoms of your feet. It’s cruel. I know. So feel lucky that I haven’t reached the point of annoyance that would require such an action.”
He spoke with a smooth and aristocratic tone. There was no emotion in his voice and the cadence was without urgency or flaw. Poised and self-assured, he sounded like he was a professional orator, someone who could control a room with nothing more than the subtle overtones and undertones of his voice.
“Now that we’ve got that particular unpleasant part out of the way, we can continue with the first introduction to your training.”
The bed dipped with his weight and his palms moved over my thighs towards my back. My shirt was still bunched around my arms and neck, so it was easy for him to find my bra to unclasp it. I flinched when the straps fell to the sides and his hands slipped along my ribs to cup my breasts where they were pressed into the mattress.
“Your body pleases me, Courtesan. Soft, yet still firm. I wouldn’t guess you were a day older than 25.”
He trailed a single finger down my spine. Each muscle that he passed felt like it pulled and knotted beneath my skin. I could feel myself trembling like a scared child. Blinking my eyes, I forced the pools of stinging tears down my cheeks, squeezing my eyelids closed when that single finger was now pressed up against my core.
I hated this. I hated him. He was disgusting for what he was about to do to me.
With the flick of his finger the panties were pulled to the side.
Another finger slid into me and he moaned with satisfaction. I tightened up around him, instantly disgusted by the act of violation.
“Yes. This will do.”
Pulling away from me entirely, he stood up to release his belt. I knew his trousers were around his ankles when I heard the buckle of his belt hit the floor. The tearing of paper followed.
Crawling over me again, he placed his knees between mine, spreading my legs further apart so that the shackles bit into the skin at my ankles.
Wasting no time, he moved my panties again, pressing into me with the head of his cock, before forcing himself further inside me.
The scream that escaped my lungs was inhuman. It was a mixture of terror, of pain…of indignity. I had been stripped of my basic human rights, rendered mute and immobile, like a blow up doll that could not say no or fight back.
His strokes inside me were unhurried, the frame of the bed creaking with each time he thrust inside. I sobbed into my pillow, burying my face into the soft fabric, wishing I could open my mouth to bite into it instead of my tongue.
Thrust after thrust, the sound sickening as it reverberated through the room.
All I could do was sob.
If the violation wasn’t horrible enough to crush my soul entirely, the way my body started to respond finished the job.
My muscles rippled along the thick fullness of his cock. Moisture seeping out, lubricating our skin. He must have been wearing a condom because the latex had burned at first, but the pain was smoothed over once my body reacted to him.
Slow and deep, he moved inside me with a controlled and bored rhythm. He felt no need to rush. A climax didn’t build inside me thankfully, but I recognized when one built in him. His breathing was heavier, his hands greedier when they dug into the skin of my hips. Lifting them from the mattress, he held me up so he could push forward even farther.
I cried harder, my skin crawling because he touched me.
He peaked, releasing one side of my hip, pushing himself deep and holding himself there as he grabbed my hair. The fire that had burned my skin now burned my scalp. I could hear hair ripping away when he pulled my head backwards. The angle was wrong and I felt like my neck could snap at any moment.
Struggling to breath, I believed that he would kill me without even realizing what he’d done.
However, just as fast he grabbed my hair, he released it, allowing my face to slam back into the pillow.
He pulled out of me and I felt the wet heat of the condom tossed carelessly to land on my back. Dry heaving, I couldn’t afford to vomit, so I fought to remain in control. He was vile and he’d insulted me, degraded me on top of the injury he’d just caused me.
I heard him replace his pants, buckling his belt before the slide of a zipper could be heard.
“Thank you, Courtesan. That was nice.”
Leaning down over me, he dragged the tip of his disgusting tongue along the outer shell of my ear. “But you’ll be much better by the time I’m finished with you.”
Moving towards the door leading to the hall, he paused by my feet. The slap that landed on my soles forced the final scream from my lungs. It was long and ear-splitting, painful in not only the way it tore at my throat, but how loud it was to my ears.
I quieted again and he laughed.
Without another word, he left the room, delivering me back to darkness, the condom left dripping atop my bare back.
Chapter Seven
Holland
“That wasn’t so bad.”
Aiden ignored my comment when he breezed back into his office as casual as if he’d just returned from a lunch meeting. His shirt looked pristine where it fell, perfectly tailored over his shoulders and chest, crisp and unwrinkled even to the point where it was tucked into his slacks.
Strolling around his desk, he passed me without so much as a glance and patted Rebecca on the head where she was still kneeling down on the pillow. After taking his seat, he lifted his arm to tap at the face of his wristwatch.
“You know, I paid over $400,000 for this watch. The least you would expect from it is to keep time. What time do you have, Holland?”
Pulling my $400 iPhone from my pocket, I answered, “Two-thirty.”
Aiden nodded. “That took less time than I expected it would.”
“What happened?” Taking a seat in front of his desk, I asked a question I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear an answer to. Claire was to be my first courtesan. I was supposed to train her from beginning to end, however her complexity had thrown a wrench into that plan already. She’d broken the behavior pattern of a captive almost immediately and at this point, only Aiden knew why.
Chuckling to himself, he straightened his sleeve cuff over his watch and finally turned his blue eyes in my direction. “She told me her name, her age, the fact that she was a human being and clued me into some of her hopes and dreams.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Unfortunately for her, I already knew that information.”
Glancing down at Rebecca, his brows angled between his eyes. “How are you doing, beautiful?”
She didn’t respond except to nod in his direction. The pain weaved into her expression was open and obvious, but she knew better than to give it voice. Aiden had broken the cardinal rule of being a Master within our society by keeping her as a personal courtesan. Having watched their dynamics play out over the past two years that I’d been training, I understood why. She was in love with him and could not help the jealousy she felt knowing her Master had just pleasured himself with another woman.
Aiden looked cross in response to her lack of a verbal response. Breathing out heavily, he lifted his legs to rest his feet on the surface of the desk, his chair groaning as it was pushed back into a reclined position. Without looking at her again, he ordered, “Return to your bedroom. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
His eyes followed her as she left the room, finally flicking back to me when she disappeared down the long corridor.
“You’re going to take over from here on out. This is your courtesan to train, Holland. Unfortunately for you, you’ve chosen what I believe will be one of the most difficult.”
Interrupting, I argued, “She’s a woman, just like any other…”
“She’s a woman that knows about the human psyche.” He interjected with a strength to his voice that let me know to shut up and listen. “The majority of what we do here is psychological. The training techniques that have been perfected were intended for young women who are too stupid to know what was being done to them. This woman, however, has studied the mind. From what I can tell from that short encounter, she is familiar with the games that we’ll play.” Absently lifting a pen from his desk, he flipped it over, butt to tip, as he considered his thoughts.
“We’ll have to go about this differently.” Tossing the pen onto a pile of papers, he looked up at me again. “Luckily for you, I like a challenge.”
“I don’t understand why that makes me lucky.”
“Because…” He smiled. “…It means I won’t have to kill her and start all over again. The loss of income alone for the ti
me delay would have been in the thousands and it wouldn’t have been my pocket that suffered.”
Point made and understood. I nodded in response, having nothing left to say.
“You’ll need to dispose of her car tonight. After you’re done with that, I suggest you return and get some sleep. You’ll have a busy day tomorrow.”
I didn’t move in my seat and he pulled his legs from his desk. Leaning over the smooth wood surface, he placed his elbows down, steepling his fingers and pressing them to his chin. “Did I stutter?”
“No.” Standing up, I brushed my hands down my pants and crossed the room.
“Holland.”
I glanced back.
“Wake her up early. She’ll be tired, more malleable because I doubt she’ll sleep tonight. Physical pain will be the factor that initially breaks her. I don’t give a shit how strong her mind is, her body will respond just like any other woman we’ve trained.”
“What are you saying?”
His expression was blank when he answered, “I’m saying…I want you to do your worst.” Dismissing me with his hand, he said, “I’ll have more instructions for you tomorrow. I want to take a few hours to consider our situation.”
…
The next morning came on a blur. I’d spent an hour disposing of Claire’s car in a place where it wouldn’t be discovered. My own little dumping sight, the vehicle slipped into the murky black depth of a lake silently except for the bubbles of air that floated up as it sank. I’d walked back, the entire time musing over what my next day would be like breaking in a woman such as Claire.
I’d considered the possibility that I’d made a mistake. The biggest problem was that I knew her. It wasn’t the standard personal relationship between friends or lovers, but it was a relationship nonetheless. Student and teacher, we’d already established a hierarchy between us. I hadn’t thought the situation through completely when I’d made the decision to take her. Now I was not only facing stripping her of her identity, but also of the role she’d played in my life up until this point. She was a superior, for all intents and purposes, and it would be a longer road to bring her down to a point of absolute submission.
