by Dark Angel
This time it is not a riding crop with a little leather patch and it is not a wide leather strap. This time Victor is holding a whip. My guess is that it would actually be classified as a cat-o-nine-tails if you multiply the number nine by three. The twisting under the lights right in front of my face is a cruel game that I love he is playing.
When Victor finally brings that whip crashing down on my flesh it is like a shower of sparks exploded through my body. Too many individual points of pain to catalog individually but at the same time.
Victor is a master at this there is. He is not striking me with so much force that this is just pure raw pain. His strokes are light enough that the pain is just present an off to intensify the pleasure of this taboo moment.
Thank God Victor is not restraining himself to one or two strikes. Apparently this is a favorite because he strokes those leather tendrils across my ass over and over again he is he has got to be crisscrossing his arm because the blows come from alternating directions stinging and tickling my flash. His restraint is magical. I want to reach the edge again I want to go over the ledge of that cliff and feel the exquisite bliss of coming again. It just won't happen.
The sudden absence of those leather crisscrossing my skin is disorienting. It's like when there is a subtle background noise in a room like an air conditioner or passing train in the distance that suddenly stops and the quiet leaves you out of sorts. I long for another strike. My body is craving being spanked. This has got to be what it is like to be addicted to a drug and need that next hit, quite literally.
I had not realized but my eyes are closed. I don't know when I close them but they are closed. I manage to pry my eyes open and there is Victor standing right in front of me and he's holding the riding crop.
The flick of his wrist is almost invisible in its quickness. I didn't register a single thing until my mind exploded with the release that I had been craving. The stinging sensation of a quick flick of that riding crop against my pussy was all that it took. My eyes slam shut and the colors of pure sexual ecstasy explode behind my eyelids. My knees buckle and my weight is resting on my tied arms and this thing that is holding my ass outward. the sensation that I’m almost weightlessness adds to the sheer intensity. I am trying to scream even though my mouth is dry and held open. Every time that I come near this man the sexual pleasure I experience is greater than the last time. There has got to be and and to the improvements and I hope that I never find that and.
The next thing I remember I'm crashing to my knees I don't remember Victor untying the rope connected to the metal hook in my ass and I don't remember him untying the ropes attached to my wrist I was to involved with my own pleasure to remember any of that all I know is that I am on my knees and I feel wonderfully limp.
"Your sexual satisfaction is secondary to my needs."
Again his words are almost foreign to me but the steely tone of voice is there and I cannot think of anything that would be that is more pleasing to me then that sound. The clicking of buckles the sudden ability to close my mouth bring me back to a closer sense of reality. I swallow a couple of times not realizing until this moment the my mouth is completely dry. My arms are numb they tingle with the pins and needles sensation that most people call being asleep. I shift slightly in the burning tingling sensation of the skin of my ass scraping against the heels of my high heel boots remind me of the exquisite pleasure of properly applied pain.
I have no sense of passing time. I could have been on my knees like this for 100 years or one second but I couldn't cannot tell how long I have actually been like this in real time. Not that it matters.
"The thing that you must never forget is that you are owned."
Victor punctuates the sentence by grabbing my hair on the back of my head. The training must be working because that motion causes my mouth to open instantly. Without hesitation I accept the full, powerful thrusting of his 12 inch cock into my mouth.
Victor is pounding my face with his cock and I’m not thinking about that fact. His words "you are owned “ fill my mind. This concept that I am his property. That my sole purpose is to please him fills me in a way that no other thought or no other physical object could ever fill me.
It is like I am detached from my own body. Somewhere in the back of my brain I know that this man is for talking my face. The fact that that is what he wants, the fact that sucking my face will bring this man pleasure and the fact that he has selected me and paid money for me to be the one that gives him pleasure is all I can think about.
Victor pulls his cock out of my mouth all I can do is watch with satisfaction as thick ropes of calm shoot from that massive head and splatter across my face. This is proof that he is happy. That this man who owns me is satisfied. Is warm come on my face proves that I have done my duty.
Victor
Vivian has collapsed into a boneless pile on the bed, and I can’t help grinning at her weakened state. This is what we’ve been needing to do all along. No more of this she-gets-to-sit-on-the-couch-and-boss-me-around bullshit. If she wants to be treated like the females in Dark Angel’s book, then she’s going to be greatly surprised by how much life is about to change for her.
I leave her, sleeping and worn out, in the middle of my bed while I move to my balcony, overlooking New York City, grabbing a robe on the way out the door so I don’t shock the neighbors. As I look out over the city, listening to the cacophony of car honks, squealing tires, and diesel engines rumbling by, I think back to the sex we’d just had. I had thought that our previous bouts of fucking had been mind-bending but now? That? That had been fuck amazing. I had had a little fun with women before – handcuffs or a paddle in the bedroom – but never that. Never what Viv and I had just shared. Maybe Dark Angel was on to something, after all.
Which made me realize something I’ve been able to ignore thus far: I’m not entirely sure I want to put Viv up for auction. What if some asshole bids for her? I mean, I know that part of the Virgin Market’s work is to verify that the men doing the buying aren’t psychopaths or already married or habitually lock women up in their basements. They also verify that the women are actually virgins, and they verify that both parties are free of any STDs.
Either way, she should be fine, right? They’re not going to let some jackass buy her and beat her every night, all under guise of “training” her, right?
I push the thoughts away. Vivian is an adult. She doesn’t need me to babysit her or make decisions for her. If she doesn’t want to go through with this, then she can choose a different path.
Right?
I stride back into the apartment and over to my bed, where I lean over and scoop her up in my arms.
“Wha…what’s going on?” she mumbles sleepily, snuggling against my chest. I ignore the warm and fuzzy and protective feelings that this stirs up in me, and instead head for her bedroom, just down the hall from mine.
I lay her down on the bed and she looks up at me and stretches lazily. “Why’d you move me?” she asks around a yawn, already climbing in under the covers to get more comfy.
“Because, if you’re going to learn your place as my slave…this is your place. This is your bedroom, this is where you should be sleeping. You can earn the right to fuck me in my bed, but you haven’t earned the right to sleep in it.”
By the end of my speech, her eyes were wide with shock, but I didn’t let her respond. “Speaking of your place, no more doors for you.” I head out of her bedroom and down the hallway, to the storage room where I kept my power tools. I came back, carrying a power drill.
“What do you mean, no more doors for me?!” she asks, looking quite awake now.
“As my slave, you don’t get privacy.” I remove the screws holding the door in place – zip, zip, zip – as I continue, “I need to train you to be the best sex slave available, and that means learning your place in the household. No more doors for you.”
I left her with her mouth opening and closing wordlessly, and carried the door down to t
he storage room. I’d just keep the doors here for now.
Yes, I said doors. You didn’t think I’d let her have a bathroom door, did you?
“Where are you going with the bathroom door?!” she squeaks as I start removing the screws for it.
I just send her a grin over my shoulder as I work to remove the screws. “Don’t you worry, Kitten – you’ll be the best sex slave in the world by time I’m done with you, I promise.”
Which I’m not sure she appreciated my hard work on this topic or not, but really, that is besides the point. It isn’t up for her to decide. If I’m going to really train her to be a proper sex slave, I have to start acting the part of the dom starting now.
Vivian
“So then, he starts running this feather up my thighs and he won’t let me squirm or talk and it’s driving me cra-zay,” I snag another chip, dip it in the salsa, and pop it in my mouth, “and just when I think I’m going to break and start laughing, he switches over and starts kissing his way up my thighs. You guys, I have never had such wonderful sex in all my life. He is amazeballs in the bedroom.”
“Wow,” Lisa says with a sigh. “I wish Diesel would use feathers.”
“Maybe you could just have him pluck a few from that feather boa you have draped everywhere,” Ashley says with a teasing grin. Lisa sticks her tongue out at her, but I ignore it all.
Ten days. Ten days of heaven. Ten days of happiness. Ten days of pure fucking joy, in all the ways you can take that statement. It shouldn’t have surprised me that I’d love all the kinky stuff this much. I mean, I did read Dark Angel for a couple of years now. Kinky stuff is what I got off to for years…when it was just me and a vibrator and my imagination.
But between my blowjobs and the occasional ass fucking, it just never went there. The guys I was with seemed more focused on me wrapping my mouth around their dicks and sucking them off.
Which, we’ve been doing plenty of that too. I mean, getting his giant-ass schlong down my throat has been quite the feat, let me tell ya. He’s porn-star territory. In fact, I think if he were comparing dicks with a porn star, it’d be the star who’d be jealous of Victor.
The only thing I’m sad about? Not being able to do the “real thing.” I mean, I know that all other sex is just as real, but there’s a part of me that wants to beg him to fuck me and fuck me hard, and have him slide inside my vay-jay. Maybe it won’t be as amazing as ass sex has been. Maybe I’m building it up to be more than it is in my mind.
But I don’t know if I want to give up my vagina virginity to someone else. Is that making me clingy? I have to wonder if I’m just going to end up driving him away if I tell him that. I can’t risk it.
No, I have to stay away from that. He’s here to train me how to be a proper sex slave – nothing more. He probably wouldn’t want to do it with a virgin anyway – I mean, it’s okay to fuck me in the ass or go down on me, but when it comes to sticking it inside of me? He probably doesn’t want that any more than Johnny did.
It’s better this way – I can sell my virginity to someone who actually wants it.
I ignore a feeling of wistfulness as I hear my phone start to ring and I pull it out to check it. I’m a big girl; I don’t need anyone or anything.
I see Master Victor’s name pop up at the top, and then underneath, a simple message made to send me scurrying: Be better home soon, Kitten, or you’ll be in trouble. I feel my panties instantly dampen. Ohhhhh…I loved it when I got in trouble. Which isn’t to say that I won’t hurry anyway. Really, it’s a win-win situation.
I shove my phone back into my purse with a shit-eating grin. “Well, ladies, it’s time for me to hit the road. Victor apparently has some more…training for me, if you know what I mean.” There is a chorus of catcalls and whistles from the group, and I can’t help the slight – okay, brilliant red – blush that creeps up on my cheeks as I head for the door. I cannot wait to see what he has in store for me this time.
I’m already pulling up the Uber app as I walk outside into the cool evening air. The possibilities are racing through me – a vibrating ass dildo? Nipple clamps? Spanking me with his hand? I’m sure my need is so strong, people three blocks over are smelling it right now.
After a cab ride of painfully overwhelming desire, I pull up in front of Victor’s apartment, and I hurry, hurry, hurry, through the front doors and into the elevator. I can’t touch myself – not yet, it’s Victor’s rules – but I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be able to keep my fingers off my own clit. It’s just begging me to rub myself into ecstasy.
I burst through the front door, panting from exertion and from need, and find Victor on the couch, a taunting, sexy grin on his face. “Hi, Kitten,” he says, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. I close the door and lean against it, staring up at him as he advances towards me. I want to launch myself at him, but I don’t allow myself to do so. I have to keep myself in check.
“You sure took a long time,” he says in a tone of voice that tells me even if I’d somehow managed to get here 30 seconds after he’d texted me, I’d still have been “too slow.”
Oh yes, this is exactly what I wanted. On trembling legs, I walk towards him, head bowed, and say softly, “Sorry, Master Victor, I tried to hurry. I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your expectations.”
“Very nice. Very, very nice,” he says sexily. “And I don’t just mean how far you’ve come since becoming my sex slave. I also mean…” He snatches my arm and yanks me up against him, staring down at me and whispering, “Your ass in that skirt.” I grin. I did look good in this skirt.
With a lightning fast move that I didn’t see coming, he throws me over his shoulder so casually, I might as well have been a throw blanket from the back of the couch. “Victor!” I grunt in surprise as I “oof” down onto his shoulder. “You can’t carry me around like a caveman,” I protest, except I’m not sure how much of that he heard, as he casually spanks me and moves back towards the couch.
“I don’t believe you can protest,” he says, settling down on the couch and settling me down, ass-up, on top of him. “I do believe that as the master, I can do as I wish.” He pulls up my skirt, getting it settled in around my waist and as much as I’m squirming, worried that this will hurt, I’m also squirming with desire.
Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…
“Whatever” smack “I” smack “want” smack “to do” smack “I can” smack “because” smack “I am master.” smack
My ass is a brilliant red by now, I’m sure, and I don’t even care. Turns out, the pain is part of the pleasure. Or the pleasure is part of the pain. But what I do know is that I want it – I want it all.
He begins rubbing my ass in slow circles, soothing the pain away, and I relax down into him, my body like cooked spaghetti.
Until I remember.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” I say, flailing around on his lap, trying to reach my Kindle and failing. Finally, he takes pity on me and hands me the ereader. I slide it open. “Can we do what’s in Chapter 12?” I pull up my bookmarks and quickly get to the scene in question.
Yeah, I have the scene bookmarked. Don’t tell me you don’t bookmark your favorite scenes. Everyone has one (or seventeen) on speed dial for those lonely nights.
“Oh. Ohhhh…” He’s reading and his soft-on is quickly turning into a hard-on. “Oh, I think we can make that happen.”
Ohhhhh yeeeaaaahhhhhh…
Victor
I shake Michael’s hand as we sit down together to discuss the details. He shakes Vivian’s too, and then we get down to business. “I understand that you guys have questions on how this will work,” Michael says, looking at me and then Vivian.
A couple of days ago, Kitten had come to me in a panic. She just didn’t think she could agree to be sold off to a random stranger to be owned for 60 days, no matter how much money she would get out of it in the end. I’d talked it over with Apollo, and we’d decided that Apollo would just purchase
her. After all, he was rich enough that if he set a stack of twenties on fire every day, it wouldn’t make a dent in his fortune. He’d said that I’d done my part by training her how to be a sex slave and that I couldn’t be expected to pay for her, too.
Truth be told, I wanted to buy her, but I couldn’t tell Apollo that. I wasn’t ready to. I was just supposed to train her; I wasn’t supposed to get attached to her. I’m the one who fucked this up. I can’t screw it up anymore.
Apollo will buy her at auction, she’ll have the money to restart her life, and everyone will be happy.
Everyone.
Especially me.
“So, what happens if I do get bought, and also, what happens if I don’t?” Kitten blurts out.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from chuckling. That did seem to cover all the bases.
“If your virginity gets purchased, you are contractually obligated to spend 60 days as that person’s sex slave. They cannot do anything that would cause permanent damage or anything against your will, and they have to let you go at the end of the 60 days. If you’d like to set up a separate arrangement outside of that, that is between you and the buyer. Only the first 60 days is covered under your Virgin Market contract.”
“And if I don’t sell?” Vivian asks, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. I want to reach out and take her hand and soothe her fears away, but I don’t dare. She’s not mine to soothe, and this conversation should be the perfect reminder of that.
It was Viv who wanted to meet with Michael. No matter how many times I assured her that Apollo would buy her and that we were simply using the Virgin Market to do this transfer of money in the easiest way possible, she has still been worried about the what-ifs.
Then again, who am I to say that she shouldn’t worry? I’m not the one who has to go up on stage in front of strangers in a sex auction and just hope that my sister’s friend’s fiancé will pay $1.5 million dollars for me.
