by Diana Hunter
But he ignored her sex and the rope for the moment, instead kneeling beside her and pulling her hands back to her ankles. “Grab your ankles,” he instructed and she did so. The familiar snick of the lock informed her she was stuck in a kneeling hogtie. A modicum of awareness had returned and she tested her bindings wanting to be sure she could not move. A few tugs convinced her that her wrists were firmly attached to her own ankles.
Phillip stood before her, again examining his willing captive, her pussy lips swollen with desire at the point where the rope disappeared between them. Did she understand how great an aphrodisiac her blind obedience was to him? How his body thrilled to see her tied and helpless, completely dependent on him for release? No. Not yet. She was a submissive and might never understand the other side. Bending once more to check the rope and reposition it right over her clit, he indulged himself for a moment, slicking his fingers with her wetness.
“Open your eyes, slave.”
Sarah saw him, down on one knee before her, his fingers held before her face, dripping with the cream he had scooped from her. She watched as he slowly licked his fingers clean, obviously enjoying her own salty taste. Her lips parted as she bit her lower lip, wanting to suck those fingers of his—anything to show him her servitude.
With a satisfied smile, Phillip saw that look of longing and knew she was almost ready. Reaching up, he pulled down a rope that ran through a pulley in the ceiling, and fastened it to the rope around her waist. It was the work of a few moments to attach the other end of the rope to a small cinch attached to the table. A manual affair; as he turned the handle, the rope wound up on the cinch and pulled at her waist rope which in turn tightened in her pussy and on her clit.
Bit by bit she felt herself pulled up, helpless to stop the rope now biting into her ass and pussy. The tension on her clit was almost unbearable. Almost. He seemed to know when to stop—the right moment just before she screamed. He let her hang there a moment, feeling the pressure from without build the pressure within.
Again he knelt beside her. “Look at me,” he commanded. Her look was colored with pain and desire, but otherwise clear. “I am going to give you the bit again. You will again be able to spit it out if you want. Or do you want to use your safe-word now?”
For a moment she thought. How much more could she take? Her desire to serve warred with her desire to be freed. She shook her head. “No,” she said, the word strangled with her passion. “No safe-word. I want to please you. I’ll take the bit.”
Now he was on dangerous ground and knew it. She couldn’t use the safe-word, even if her body cried out to her that she should. But she also had a need to please and wouldn’t be happy if he now pulled back from what he’d promised her. He placed the bit in her mouth and without another word, fastened a clamp on first one, and then the other nipple.
Tears now fell unbidden. Her head fell back and she pushed her breasts out further then tried to wiggle the clamps off. But the wiggling caused the rope to burn in her pussy and after a moment, she was still.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded gently. He wanted her to see what he was going to do to her next—if she weren’t prepared for it, the sensation could take her too much by surprise.
She opened her eyes and saw he held a glass of ice. Reaching in, he took out one ice cube and ran it around her sore nipple. She gasped at the relief it gave her, knowing the rope between her legs was thoroughly soaked with her juices now. He set the glass down when it was obvious this was pleasurable to her and took a second cube, running it around her other nipple as well.
After a moment, he slid the melting ice cube down along her belly, running it around her navel. The cool water dripped down along her stomach, reaching her thighs and her crotch cried out for the same relief.
And he gave it to her. Taking a fresh cube, he traced around her mound, soaking the hair there. He ran it along the rope, stopping where it disappeared into her flesh, coming back up to her mound. She moaned into the bit and tried to push her hips up to him—she wanted that coolness on her pussy.
The ice cube was smaller now and he ran it along the rope from her navel straight down, this time gently pushing through her pussy lips and running it all the way around to her ass. The cold water gave relief to her hot skin while heightening her desire. Her chest heaved as her breathing grew more and more heavy and the nipple clamps made her aware of every breath.
He saw the change in her breathing and that her head had fallen back once again. She was ready. Taking a fresh cube, he ran it along the rope and stopped for a moment at her asshole, listening to her muffled whimpers. The cube melted quickly and he brought it back up to her pussy. Separating the lips of her sex with one hand, he pulled the rope aside just enough to slip the small piece of ice inside her vagina, to melt there. Keeping her lips spread, he bent down and gently blew on her clit.
And she exploded. Her body jerked to a rhythm of its own making—and each movement sent new signals to her brain. The clamps pulled at her nipples, the rope burned her clit and her ass and the ice melting in her pussy, the awareness that she was totally his and that he could do anything to her that he wanted, all combined in her mindless pleasure.
Sarah couldn’t think. Her mind drifted among the clouds, reaching ever higher as each wave pushed her along. Blue and lavender and rose-colored clouds sailed beneath her as the waves of her orgasm deepened to royal blues and dark purples. She knew she screamed into the bit, but she could not hear her own voice as her climax crested, then ebbed, the colors returning slowly to pale pastels.
Phillip watched as she came, his own sex hardening at the sight. He had driven her to this—he controlled her body—and increasingly, her spirit. The power he held concentrated itself, coiled and tense and immensely satisfying.
After several moments, her body slowed, then stopped and hung loosely. But for the crotch rope pulled up tight by the pulley and winch, she would’ve collapsed onto the floor. He undid her arms from her ankles first, then lowered her body to the floor, one hand on the winch, the other arm guiding her down.
Perception of the world outside her own being gradually came back to her and she followed his movements absently—as if he were dealing with someone else or she were far away. Lying on the floor while he untied the long rope from her own simple rope harness, she brought one hand up and removed the bit. Licking her lips, she swallowed hard a few times, but said nothing.
He stowed the longer rope and came back to her with a bottle of water and a straw. “Here, drink some.” Lifting her head, he guided the straw to her lips and saw her take a long swallow.
“Ready to sit up?” She nodded and he helped her to a sitting position. The rope still bit into her, she was wet from the ice and the clamps still bit into her nipples, but her head was clearer now.
“You are doing well, my slave.” His words of encouragement made her smile. He smiled in return and the world lit up for her. “Stand now.” The command was gentle, and she obeyed simply because he’d asked.
He led her to the table and helped her onto it so she could lie down. He spread her legs a bit, but did not fasten her down in any way. Instead, he untied the rope that encircled her waist and her sex, gently removing it so it would not burn. Quickly he inspected to be sure there had been no damage—there was none. Her pussy lips, clit and ass were irritated and red, but would recover quickly. The sensitivity there would fade as well, and he wanted her to come when he did.
His voice gruff again, he commanded, “Stand now, slave, and face the table.” Trembling a bit, she did so. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take and the clamps were really starting to hurt. “Lean over.” She leaned over the table, her elbows bent and taking most of her weight. “Spread for me.” Her face burning at his tone, she did so.
She didn’t need anything more to get her ready to take him, he could see that right away. Stripping himself of his garments, he stood behind her and entered her pussy with one thrust. She cried out and almost immediately s
tarted pushing back against him.
This was what she wanted! The feel of his cock inside her made her tremble all over. She hungered for it and pushed her pussy back on him, wanting to take all of him—eat all of him with her pussy. Her movements guided by nothing but pure animal lust, she rutted with him until they both exploded in a geyser of passion. Tremors shook their bodies, shuddering through them as they rode each wave; the two moving in unison for one long, eternal moment.
And then it passed. Slowly it faded until time and memory returned. Together they lay, spent, on the tabletop, until Phillip gathered the strength to reach around and take off her clamps; she groaned with their removal. Massaging her breasts to lessen the pain, he felt himself soften inside her and stepped back, slipped out. His juices, mingled with hers, dripped down along her leg.
Scooping her up, he took her to the bedroom. Drowsy with sex, she clung to him, caring about nothing in the world. He put her down and crawled in next to her, covering them both with the blankets. Nestled together, they slept until early afternoon.
Chapter Four
Punishment
Phillip awoke with Sarah’s body still spooned into his—his arms wrapped around her, holding her. For a moment, he buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply the scent of her. She slept on, exhausted from their morning activities. Gently, he unwrapped himself and stood, gazing upon her sleeping form.
She had been so compliant in everything so far—except for the food that morning. He would try that again later. He wanted her for his sub, his slave. Her enthusiasm to serve him with her body gave him hope she would be willing to serve in other ways as well. But he wanted that servitude only if she were willing and only with her spirit unbroken.
He went to the dresser and quietly pulled out a drawer, taking out a present he had bought for her. Laying it beside her on the bed, he tiptoed out, letting her rest. He’d try her enough in the hours to come.
Upon awakening an hour or so later, Sarah discovered she was alone in the bed. Rising, she made her toilette and cleaned up from their earlier lovemaking—although a week ago she never would have coupled anything so violent with the act of making love. And yet, they were compatible.
Since her cuffs were still in place, she did not shower, but simply used a washcloth to clean and make herself presentable. Her stomach growled loudly and she remembered she hadn’t eaten breakfast. The clock on the dresser read 2:15—so she’d missed lunch as well!
It wasn’t until Sarah went to straighten the covers on the bed that she found the lingerie he’d laid out for her. Holding up the bra, she saw that, although the material was black, it was sheer and hid nothing. There were sheer black stockings as well, and a garter belt to hold them up. She’d never worn real stockings before, only pantyhose. A little experimentation with the clips on the garter belt, however, and she figured out how they worked.
There was a small scrap of cloth left on the bed and she picked it up as well, turning it about to figure out its purpose. “Oh!” She covered her mouth and checked the door to see if he’d heard her surprise as she realized what it was. In her fingers she held the smallest pair of panties she’d ever seen—and realized it was a G-string.
But she couldn’t wear these! She’d feel like…well, she’d feel very naughty in them, that was certain. She put on the bra to see what it looked like. It was the right size—a fact which was not lost on her. How had he known? She colored as she realized her clothes had sat on the chair all last weekend and he must’ve looked. The fact that he’d gone shopping for her this week, and lingerie shopping at that, made her smile with delight.
Eagerly, she pulled on the G-string, stockings and belt, fastening the front clasps easily enough. The back ones were a little harder to reach and she twisted around several times trying to catch one. She giggled as she realized she must look like a dog making his bed turning around and around like that. Finally catching it, she fastened the back of her stockings and stood to look at herself in the mirror.
And the word popped into her mind again. Slut. Standing there in such sexy garments—garments she never would’ve had the courage to purchase for herself, her pert nipples made the sheer fabric stick out. Her pubic hair showed around the tiny scrap of the G-string and she remembered his request when she was tied. He wanted her to shave. Could she? Her hand ran through her soft hair and toyed with it a moment. Could she actually do that? Swallowing hard, she knew she would. Briefly she remembered the incident about breakfast and how she’d determined she wouldn’t be back next weekend. And here she was actually contemplating fulfilling an action he wanted her to do outside of their time together.
She turned to look at herself from another angle and knew, dressed like this, she looked the part. She was a slut—a slave for his use. She needed to look those words up in the dictionary when she got home. Was there a difference between slave and slut—or whore? There was suddenly so much she didn’t know.
Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she realized he wanted her dressed this way. It was how he expected to see her when she went to him. It was her master’s will that she look this way. Sarah had to sit down on the bed as the thought took hold.
Phillip wanted her to look like a slut. What must he think of her to want her to dress like this? By buying her these clothes and putting them out for her to wear…were they like a costume? Was this a part she was to play? Or did they represent something more—something he wanted from her. Yes. Her heart beat hard. That was it right there. The relationship they were developing was not a game to him—he wanted a slave—a real slave who would do what he wanted when he wanted without question and without hesitation. If he needed a cleaning lady or a cook, he could command her to be that. If he wanted a slut, then he expected her to dress like one, to act like one, to become one.
Her head reeled with the implications. Images of the morning flashed before her inner eye—his mastery of her, and her need to be mastered. There was no doubt her body responded to his manipulations. In fact, that was why she’d come back this weekend. She liked the way Phillip controlled her. And she liked pleasing him. His cheeks would get this cute little dimple in them each time he smiled and she liked getting him to smile.
Standing again, she took another look in the mirror. Was he right? Was there a slut hiding inside her? Throwing her hands up in frustration, she slapped them on her thighs and sighed. Well, she wasn’t going to find out here. Only time with Phillip would give her that answer. Taking a deep breath, she turned from the mirror and went out.
He was spread out on the couch, his face buried in the newspaper he had bought that morning. For a moment, she hesitated. He hadn’t called her; how should she approach him? Finally she walked around to the front of the couch and simply knelt in her customary position, waiting for him to notice her in her new finery. Putting her hands behind her and spreading her knees put stress on the fabric and she closed her eyes briefly against the sudden thrill.
Hearing the rustle of the newspaper, her eyes flew open and she looked straight ahead as she’d been taught. He set the paper on the low table before him and commanded her, “Stand, slave.”
She rose, keeping her hands behind her. “Put your hands at your sides and turn for me—show me your new clothes.”
She relaxed her arms and began a slow turn for him, a smile playing about her lips. Tossing her head, Sarah shook her shoulder-length hair at him, hiding her self-consciousness at being dressed in this manner. Glancing back at him as she turned, she saw that dimpled smile and giggled. She was actually enjoying showing off for him! The G-string up the crack in her rear only accentuated the fact that her cheeks were bare. Continuing her turn so that her back was to him, she did not realize he had risen until he put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her.
“Very nice, slave. I like seeing you in the clothes I have purchased for you. Do you like them?”
Her voice was unsteady with the desire to please him and to find out about herself. “Yes, Sir—I like them v
ery much.”
His hands slid down off her shoulders, along her arms, coming to rest on her butt cheeks below. His mouth nuzzled her ear. “Do you like them well enough to wear them this week for me?”
Her head spun for a moment—wear underwear like this to work? A flush started at her neck and colored her whole face as she whispered, “Yes, Master. I would wear these to work for you.” And she would—she could hardly believe it of herself, but she would. Her stomach fluttered in nervousness at the thought. She would shave herself and she would wear sexy underwear, simply because he’d commanded it and she wanted to please him.
Phillip smiled behind her. He had no intention of letting her wear them to work; she needed to be able to concentrate on her job. All he’d wanted to know was how willing she was to please him outside of their weekend agreement. Her answer pleased him a great deal. She was starting to discover the hidden side of herself.
Moving around in front of her, Phillip simply commanded, “Follow me,” and she went along behind as he led her to the room they both were starting to call the dungeon.
The furniture in the room had been shifted. The large, covered object from the corner was now pulled out to the center, still hidden behind its blue cloth. With a deft tug, Phillip revealed the cage beneath. It stood almost to the ceiling—a good two and a half meters tall at least. But it wasn’t very wide or very deep. He opened a door on its front and gestured to her.
Images of The Pit and the Pendulum crept into her mind and she almost balked. But she glanced down at the cage he had put her in last week, now covered and in the corner. That hadn’t been too bad, not after she’d gotten used to it. Biting her lip, she stepped inside.
The door slammed behind her and she flinched. The lock went home and she knew she was trapped. In the tiny space she had, she turned around quickly to look at him, fear in her eyes. She swallowed hard and calmed, seeing him still there, smiling gently at her.
