Her Submission

by Vonna Harper

  While waiting for him to free her, she’d half convinced herself he’d want sex again. The possibilities were endless: he might spread eagle her on the bed and pump her helpless body, he might order her back onto her hands and knees and take her from behind, maybe he’d command her to suck his cock again but she hoped not because she needed his weapon in her pussy.

  He studied her from the doorway much as he’d done when he’d first returned to the bedroom. His relentless stare unnerved her. At the same time, having his attention locked on her heated her veins.

  She didn’t want to be like this! To have her existence revolve around him. To be so vulnerable.

  Yes she did.

  “Where were you born?” he asked.

  She blinked. “San Diego.”

  “Where did you grow up?”

  Don’t let him in. “We—my parents moved around a lot. They, ah, they weren’t always together. When they were separated my mother took us to be near her aunt.”

  “How did you feel about the way you lived?”

  Old resentments reasserted themselves. At the same time she wished she could find a way to change the subject. Knowing he was interested in her past, her emotions, scared her. Wasn’t living in the moment with this man emotionally unnerving enough?

  “I, ah, I didn’t think about it much. It was just the way things were.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  He’d seen through her attempt to avoid painful issues but was that surprising? After all she stood before him naked except for his restraints. Even though she hadn’t looked at the cuff again hanging from her wrist since he’d returned, she couldn’t ignore its impact.

  “What do you want me to say?” she asked.

  “The truth. About everything.”

  Not fair! She wasn’t ready for this, couldn’t imagine ever being. And yet it had been so long since anyone had cared about her. “I didn’t like having to change schools, but that happens to a lot of children so it’s hardly remarkable.”

  “We’re not talking about other people, this is about you.” He stepped into her space, gathered up the loose cuff and slipped it around her free wrist. Just like that he’d handcuffed her again, reinforcing his mastery of her. “What about siblings?”

  “Two older brothers.”

  “Are you in touch with them?”

  Maybe he was trying to determine whether they’d look for her. She could lie, try to convince him that keeping her was dangerous, but what—when—if he learned the truth? That might anger him and the fragile connection she believed had begun between them would be shattered.

  “Hardly ever. They joined the military as soon as they could.” She studied the floor. “They couldn’t wait to leave home.”

  “Is that what you did? You packed your belongings and took off?”

  “No. I…”

  “What?”

  As irritated as he sounded, she should tell him what he wanted to know, but he was asking so much of her.

  Just do it.

  “When I was sixteen, I was found guilty of a crime and taken to a juvenile detention center.”

  “You were hauled out of your parents’ home? Did they try to protect you?”

  The question was laughable. Somehow he’d seen deep into her, seen scars she’d hoped no one ever would. The more he learned, the more vulnerable she’d become. She’d have no defenses left, nothing to keep away from this man who believed she belonged to him.

  Own. Belonging.

  “Answer me! Did your parents come to your defense?”

  Her mouth worked but nothing came out. She felt backed into a corner.

  “Answer!”

  Suddenly, irrationally, she launched herself at him. Lifting her arms, she tried to jam the cuffs’ chain against his throat. He grabbed her and spun her around. Then, to her surprise, he let go.

  “Go on, try to get away!”

  “No!” she screamed. Lowering her head so it was aimed at his middle, she charged him. She must have caught him unaware because she hit where she’d intended. He grunted and stumbled back a step. Determined to push off him, she braced her arms against his chest. Before she could, his vice-like fingers clamped down around her forearms.

  Forcing her arms over her head, he started to back her away from him. She kicked out and connected with his left leg. A hissing groan escaped him.

  I’m sorry.

  “Damn you! God damn!”

  She wasn’t sure how it happened, but he levered her so her back was to him. He again hauled her tethered arms over her head and, holding onto the cuffs, marched her toward the bed. The way his breathing labored, she had no doubt he was still in pain.

  When he shoved her, she landed face down on the bed. Desperate as she was to get away, fear of angering him even more than he was slowed her. Before she could decide what to do, as if she had any options, he hoisted her onto the mattress and rammed what she guessed was his good leg against her. Her arms remained over her head and with his hand over the back of her neck, she couldn’t lift her head.

  “I’ll teach you to try to defy me.” Every word stuck her like a blow.

  I’m sorry. Master, I’m sorry. Despite her dread of him, however, she couldn’t make herself apologize. Not only was it too late, she needed him to understand what had compelled her to do what she had.

  “You will tell me what I want to hear.” He spat out the words. “That’s what this lesson is about, you being honest about everything.”

  Because that’s how you’ll demonstrate your mastery over me.

  Understanding how important keeping the upper hand was to him distracted her from what he was doing. Besides, she couldn’t stop him.

  After shoving down on her neck to make it clear that he expected her to stay in place, he uncuffed one hand, drew her arms behind her, and re-secured her. To her surprise, he started massaging her buttocks. Expecting a tirade, she held her breath but he only kneaded. Despite herself, she started to respond. Then he pulled one ass cheek away from the other and ran his nail over her rear opening.

  She moaned and squirmed.

  “What are you saying, slave? That maybe you don’t want to run away?”

  “Yes I do!” Why hadn’t she called him Master?

  “Don’t lie to me, or yourself.”

  He kicked her legs apart, planted his hand against her pussy, and began stroking. She stopped trying to get out from under him. No matter how upset she was by his ability to control her responses, she lacked the will to do anything about it. It shouldn’t be like this! She’d spent years living on her own. The last thing she’d ever do again, she’d repeatedly told herself, was let a man have the upper hand. Once had been enough. Once had nearly destroyed her.

  “Don’t, please,” she begged when a finger entered her drenched opening. “I don’t want—“

  “Your mind hates what’s happening, but it isn’t in charge, slave. Something baser is, something I know a great deal about.”

  She knew better than to believe he was no longer angry at her. Any moment he might start punishing her, but right now his finger was working in and out, pumping her sex hole, making it weep in anticipation. Tearing her apart.

  “That’s right,” he all but crooned. “Give up. Let it happen. Embrace your submission.”

  I don’t want to do this, I don’t! Why then were her cheeks on fire? Why did she ache with the need to have his cock inside her?

  Because—because he no longer was holding onto the back of her neck. Instead that hand had moved to between her buttocks. His thumb pushed against her bung hole. His other hand remained at her pussy so now—oh damn yes now two fingers filled her.

  An image expanded to fill what was left of her mind. Master had claimed ownership of her ass and cunt. Robbed of use of her hands and face down on the bed that smelled and felt of him, she had no voice in what was happening.

  Could only experience.

  Rubbing, invading and retreating, Master’s breath hot on her bac
k and both of his legs now against her thighs. Attacking. Taking her down.

  Tearing her apart.

  Fulfilling her.

  Anticipation grew until despite her attempts to remain silent she started bleating. Every time he withdrew his fingers from her sex hole, she wailed in fear of being denied only to whimper when he again plowed into her. She hated and loved being plundered.

  A lifetime ago her teenage sex drive had nearly destroyed her. She’d spent so long denying its power while carving out an existence she could handle. Today Master was teaching her how futile those attempts had been.

  Sexual need ruled her.

  Master ruled her.

  “Please, please, please,” she whimpered.

  “Please stop doing this or make you climax?”

  Not let but make. That should be her warning, her call to action. Why then was she allowing him to demean her?

  As her body softened and heated, her mind went back through the years to when a clanging door signified the end to freedom. At first she’d screamed and kicked the door but once she’d exhausted herself, a measure of sanity had returned. She had no choice but to endure.

  That’s what she’d do now, endure.

  Not lose herself in pleasure.

  Somehow.

  Despite the hot pressure in her pussy and commanding thumb pushing past her puckered flesh, she forcefully gathered bits and pieces from her past. Stern looks from those whose job it was to teach her the error of her way, writing her parents but never hearing from them, begging to be allowed to contact the man/boy she’d been in love with only to be given a letter from him saying he was moving on, getting married.

  Realizing what a fool she’d been.

  “Where’d you go?” Master turned her over and pulled her off the bed. Her legs shook, her pussy still dripped, and everything felt empty. “How did you manage to check out?”

  Even when he took hold of her chin and forced her to face him she didn’t answer.

  “I don’t understand you, slave, but I’m going to.”

  Chapter fourteen

  A few minutes later Kaci stood on the second story deck outside Master’s bedroom. Seeing the trees standing guard around his place brought home their isolation. She’d barely had time to note the sloping ground and thick shade before he pushed her breasts-first against one of the vertical support pillar. He unfastened her cuffs, spun her so she faced him with her back pressing into the pillar and re-secured her arms in front. His expression was neutral and yet she noted both darkness and determination.

  If only she was on the ground! Could run.

  Before bringing her out here, he’d ordered her to stay the hell where she was. Then he’d gone downstairs and returned carrying the familiar red rope, a slender whip, and a short glass of dark liquid. He’d taken those things onto the porch and spent too much time out there doing things she couldn’t see, could only imagine.

  Now he pulled her away from the pillar and under a rope he’d looped over a beam above her head. He tied one end of the rope to the chain between her wrists. That done, he took hold of the other end of the rope and walked with it to the railing. When he pulled, her arms lifted.

  Up and up they went, reaching for nothing, forcing her to stretch as much as possible without standing on her toes. He secured his rope end to the railing and stepped away from it.

  “Keeping you in place,” he said unnecessarily.

  It was late afternoon. The day was still warm but it would soon start to cool. Did he intend to keep her outside all night? If he did she’d scream, take her chances that someone would hear. Maybe she should cry out now.

  He stepped behind her, prompting her to look back at him. She shuddered when he picked up a length of rope from a small table near a substantial handmade wooden chair.

  “You’re going to listen to me for a while,” he informed her as he doubled the rope. “Then when I’m done, you’re going to answer my questions.”

  There’d been no give to his voice, no hint that what she wanted meant anything to him. This was how things were going to be.

  She didn’t try to draw away as he placed two red strands in her mouth and tied them behind her head. The rope gag hadn’t completely cut off her ability to make a sound which maybe was what he intended.

  After positioning her so she faced him, he sat in the chair he might have made and sipped from his drink. After a few swallows he put the glass down and picked up the whip. At the end were a half dozen thin leather strips.

  “This—“ He snapped the whip at her. The strips stung her belly. “Is to make sure I have your full attention. You weren’t able to escape earlier because you’re hardly the first woman I’ve taught the meaning of helplessness.” He indicated his bad leg. “If it had been earlier in my recovery, you might have.” Several lines of pain bloomed over her breasts.

  “If you were a fully trained sex slave, you wouldn’t have tried what you did.” He again stung her breasts. “It wouldn’t have occurred to you because you would have seen me and all men as your absolute masters.”

  Sex slave.

  He wasn’t really hurting her. The strikes were like mosquito bites, quick to make their impact only to fade from her awareness. The awful thing was how he kept after her. She became a hooked fish being reeled in by a man in no hurry to end the battle. When he occasionally stopped lashing her, she imagined he was letting out enough line so she could continue to fight. Then he started hitting her breasts, belly, and thighs again, reeling her in until his boat loomed over her.

  And he talked.

  Whether he was wielding the whip, sipping his drink, or just studying her, he continued his story. He’d been employed by Carnal Incorporated as a sex slave trainer for some ten years. At the beginning he’d worked under the tutelage of men long accustomed to molding female minds and bodies, but even back then he’d been no novice. He didn’t tell her why Carnal’s management had initially taken him into their program and of course she couldn’t ask.

  Carnal was an international organization with training facilities located in the United States primarily so top management could keep an eye on the operation. About half of the slaves came from this country while the rest were flown in by well-paid private pilots. As a secret operation Carnal paid no taxes. In more than twenty years of existence it had never been investigated because the right palms had been and continued to be greased.

  “When powerful, wealthy men place orders for a certain kind of woman, other trainers or I go looking for one that meets our customer’s demands. Locating a potential subject doesn’t take long. What’s time consuming is determining how much risk is involved in grabbing her. Unless a woman is physically, socially, and emotionally isolated we won’t bother with her.” He leaned forward. “You met that criteria.”

  Was he saying she was already bought and paid for, that he’d taken her for profit and not his personal use?

  “At present there are five Carnal training facilities.” He lashed one thigh, then the other. “If I wanted to, I could take you to any of them. They’re each unique and yet they have a number of things in common. They’re absolutely secure. No slave has ever escaped. The budget we trainers work with is generous. Within reason we can order anything we believe will enhance the training experience. We’re always experimenting.”

  Maybe he wanted her to think about what he meant by experimenting, but she couldn’t because he’d increased the whip’s tempo. Dizzy from trying to twist away, she shook her head trying to clear it. He concentrated on the outside of her left thigh until she turned her back to him. Then he switched to her buttocks.

  He was spanking her, treating her like a misbehaving child.

  Taking her into a place where—where what? Making her float.

  “I’ve long been in favor of cages over other kinds of restraint. I often put a naked new capture in a four by four foot enclosure. She can lie down but not stretch out. Whether she stands or sits is up to her. There’s nothing but bars to lo
ok at, nothing except metal to touch. The lock is larger than it needs to be and makes its own impact. In time I give her a bucket to pee in. She can drink but only by sucking out of the bottle I hold. If she wants to eat, she has to wait until I place the bites in her mouth. A few days of that, of seeing only me—it makes an impact.”

  Of course it did, maybe the same as what he was doing was changing her.

  “Think about what’s going on with you right now.” He struck her ass, paused, teased her there again. “There aren’t any cages here, no guards, no pictures or videos being sent to your eagerly waiting owner.”

  At first it didn’t register that he’d stopped detailing Carnal slave training and was talking about her again. When it did, she tried to pay close attention, to catch a warning before it was too late but the attack on her buttocks was so intense.

  Erotic.

  Awash in another wave of helplessness, she faced him. The whip snapped an inch from her left nipple.

  “I nearly lost it when you tried to hurt me,” he said and leaned back again. He placed the whip on the floor within easy reach. “If it had been a few years ago—other trainers have had to pull me off slaves who made me angry.”

  She tensed and tried to move away when he stood, then stared after him as he headed into the bedroom. Something had happened to her mind and body that went beyond what he’d told her and done to her. Her existence revolved around this place, this man, the current spinning through her.

  Master knew her, showed her a new way to be. To experience.

  Maybe even to trust.

  Was that possible?

  He was both gone too long and back too soon—carrying the digital. “Rotate. I want to record this from all angles.”

  Not wanting to anger or disappoint him, she slowly did as he commanded. She was becoming Master’s beast.

  Instead of recoiling from the thought, she held it in front of her. With her arms high over her head, she had to keep her legs together to lessen the strain throughout her body. As a result, her thighs were sealed together, her sex trapped and hot.