She’s so fucking gorgeous. She only affords herself a moment before she opens her eyes and turns to face me, waiting for her next command.
I let her stand under the spray as I open a bottle of lavender and vanilla body wash and pour it into the palm of my hand. I slowly lather it, thinking about which inch of her I want to wash first.
“Spread your legs,” I say and barely breathe the command, but she instantly obeys.
I crouch down, the water pouring over my back as I massage her calves and work my way up her body. I keep moving in slow, soothing circles. As I rise and my fingers inch closer to the insides of her thighs, she closes her eyes, nearly falling backward and reaching out to steady herself by gripping my shoulder.
She almost pulls her hand away once she’s straightened herself again, but I hold her hand down and look into her eyes as I kiss just above her wrists. “Stay.”
With her breath coming in quickly, she nods her head and says, “Yes, Master.”
I continue my ministration, working the lather over her body, teasing her sex slightly and grinning as her eyes heat with lust. She stays still as I massage her ass, taking great care to make sure she’s healing nicely, which she is. I suck her nipples, my dick hard and pressing into her soft curves. But only for a moment. I just want to see them reddened from my touch.
“Rinse and then get on your knees,” I give her the command while I pour the shampoo into my hand.
I massage the shampoo into her scalp while my dick brushes against her lips.
It’s a tease. Her lips slowly open until the head of my cock is being licked as I move slightly.
I shouldn’t allow her to tease me back. But I fucking love it.
“Lean back.”
She does as I ask, and the water rinses her hair clean. My fingers spear through her thick blonde locks.
I do the same with the conditioner, but I allow more of my cock to enter the heat of her mouth. She closes her lips around my head and gently sucks, a tingle of need shooting through me as her soft tongue runs the length of my slit accompanied by the soft vibrations of her moan.
As I pull her hair back slightly, she releases me to rinse the conditioner from her hair, and our eyes lock.
“Your turn, kitten,” I tell her reaching a hand down to help her up from her position.
She takes her time, grabbing the bar of hard milled soap and looking over my body. She’s aroused, but taking her task seriously. She lathers the bar, large suds covering her hands, before gently caressing my body.
I close my eyes, enjoying the strong motions from her small hands.
She works her hands over my shoulders as she stands on her tiptoes, and then moves them down my back and over my ass. I have to smile as she hesitates to move lower.
She moves in front of me, her eyes focused on my hard cock and quickly lathers her hands back up, and runs them over my chiseled abs. The look of desire reflected in her eyes makes me want to take her against the shower wall right now, but I stay still.
She moves lower, making her circles smaller and smaller until her hands wrap around my cock.
I let her stroke me a few times, loving the feel of it.
“Enough,” I say and admonish her.
Her eyes fly to mine and she stills, but nods her head and continues washing my legs.
I love both her desire and her obedience. And she’ll be rewarded for it soon enough.
It doesn’t take long until we’re both cleaned and I can turn the water off.
I grab a towel off the heated bench and pat her dry in the stall, opening the glass door to let the cooler air in.
Satisfied with her being patted down and quickly drying myself, I take her hand and lead her to the front of the sink.
Without speaking, I put her chain on her, kissing her neck. And then I attach the leash with the clip at the end, and fasten it to her clit. It’s tight enough to stimulate and stay attached, but not nearly anywhere near tight enough to cause any pain.
I tug it gently, outward from her stomach, watching the pleasure on her face as the chain round her neck pulls away from her, clinking softly and then pulls at her clit. Sending a bolt of pleasure through her body.
“You’ll wear both of these and nothing else in this house.”
My dick is nestled in her ass as I speak. The sight of her in my chains, even if they are thin and more like jewelry, makes me want to spill my cum deep inside of her.
But not yet. There’s one more thing, one very important addition.
I stand behind her, splaying my left hand on her lower belly and pulling her closer to me. “This is for you.” I hand her the gift bag with my right. “But you’ll need to put it on yourself.”
She turns to look at me over her shoulder, hesitantly taking the bag.
“Put it on now,” I tell her.
She quickly set the bag down on the counter, pulling out the large, black velvet box. She opens it slowly and then runs her fingers along the crystals.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.
“It’s for your ankle,” I tell her. Her body tenses for a moment, and recognition flashes in her eyes.
“You and you alone will put it on and take it off.” I swallow thickly, hoping this is going to work for her. “I’ll throw it away the moment you leave it. You can only take it off when you shower.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If you need to wear this at night, then you must wear it all day as well. If you don’t wear it, I’ll throw it away.”
“It’s a shackle?” she whispers.
“It’s yours. It’s whatever you want it to be.”
I give her a moment to let the rules and the meaning of the anklet to register. “Put it on,” I tell her.
She bends down and clasps it into place. It’s a little large on her and slips down, but firmly stays in place.
Once she stands, I pull her closer to me and kiss her neck, running my fingers through her folds. She’s no longer wet. But I’ll make it up to her.
I pull the chain at her stomach, reminding her of the chains she’s wearing that are mine. “This is how I want you while you’re home, unless I tell you otherwise.”
I kiss along her neck and nip her ear, looking between the soft curve of her neck and her pale blue eyes in the mirror.
I tug the chain again and I’m rewarded with a sweet moan of pleasure and arousal moistening her pussy.
I lead her with the chain to the large whirlpool tub in the middle of the bathroom, loving her soft whimpers. I sit on the edge and turn her so she’s facing away from me. The anklet clinks as I pull her down on top of me roughly, her back to my front, my dick hard and ready to be buried in her heat.
“Do you think you were a good girl today?” I whisper against her ear. My lips gently caress her sensitive skin and cause a shudder to go through her body.
“Yes, Master,” she answers with lust in her voice.
“You were,” I admit as I slam my hips up, shoving my cock deep inside her. She tries to buck forward out of instinct, but I keep her close to me, fucking her roughly and tugging at the chain.
Rewarding my kitten.
And sating us both.
“Katia, what does being a Master mean?” I ask her as she crawls under the covers.
“It means you have complete control over someone.”
“Is that what it means, kitten?” I ask her.
She clears her throat, looking as though she’s questioning her response. “There’s more to it than that,” she finally says.
“It’s very simple, kitten. Soon you’ll know.” Her eyes flash with disappointment as she takes in a heavy breath.
Sleep well, I tell her before turning off the lights and leaving her alone. Wearing my chain and contemplating what it truly means for me to be her Master.
Chapter 22
Katia
I step into the steam-filled bathroom, dressed in my flimsy gown, my skin prickling from the inner fire inside the pit o
f my stomach, my body on edge. I’m sweaty and dirty from crawling on my hands and knees all day, obeying every wish of my Master and now he’s ordered me to take a bath and to let him clean me. And if I’m good, he’s going to let me bathe him.
I couldn’t be happier to oblige. I hunger for his strong hands on my body, giving me the pleasure I so badly crave and he’s tempted me with all day. It’s hard to even think of myself as a Slave when I feel more like Isaac’s pampered pet. It’s definitely not what I was expecting going into this relationship, but I fucking love it. It feels like I’m living a fantasy.
I’m his fucktoy, his kitten, his everything. But what he does to me, what he commands me to do only makes me feel desired and cherished.
I catch sight of the faint scars on my shoulder and my mind drifts back to earlier today, to one of my training sessions that left me appreciating him even more.
“I want you to paint your scars,” Isaac told me as I sat on a leather training bench. He grabbed a bowl of whipped cream and strawberries off a stand nearby and held it out to me. With the bowl in his left hand, he held the long stem of a large, fresh strawberry and dipped it in the homemade cream.
“Open,” he commanded me. “Stick your tongue out flat.”
I did as I was told and he traced a line down my tongue with the point of the berry and then around my lips, teasing me. “You’ll paint them with the cream for me to lick off.”
He pulled it away from my mouth and I responded as I knew I should. “Yes, Master.” I’ve learned to love those words. I love pleasing him. He makes it so easy.
Obediently, I took the strawberry from his hands, and only then did I really register what he’d told me to do. I didn’t know why he wanted me to paint my scars with cream and fruit, but I knew I shouldn’t question him. Everything he makes me do is for my own good.
My skin pricked with his eyes on me as I carefully dipped the strawberry into the cream in the bowl and began painting my scars, slowly and deliberately. My eyes watched my movements in the trifold mirror from the vanity he’d placed me in front of. The vanity was from my room, but the bench was in his. I started with my neck first, covering all those ugly marks I so hated, before moving to my collarbone and then my shoulders.
I remember how I got them. How my old Master would chain me to the bed and let the whip rip across my back. Occasionally it would break skin, but that’s not what made the scars, it was the tips of the braided tails. In the beginning, when I wasn’t perfect, he’d attach the punishment spurs. They’d stick into my skin and when he pulled back… I closed my eyes, hating the memory.
The second I shut my eyes, I felt Isaac’s strong hand between my legs and his tongue licking along the faint bit of cream painted over my scars.
I gasped with pleasure at the sensation, reveling in the feel of his warm wet mouth, and had to fight the urge to wrap my arms around his neck and keep him in place. I knew I could only accept what he gave me, and nothing more.
He moved up to my neck, kissing away the cream, sucking on my neck.
Isaac continued kissing and sucking on my neck until all the cream was gone, and when he pulled back I was so fucking out of breath. I’d never experienced having food literally licked off my body, and the sensation of it had been incredible. The places where he licked me felt alive, tingling with sexual energy from his hungry lips and tongue. God, I had felt so good.
“Master,” I breathed, panting, my chest heaving and my pussy clenching uncontrollably. Seriously, I almost came just from that. “More. Please.”
Isaac responded by grinning at me and standing tall in front of me. “Be careful what you wish for, kitten.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant until he walked away and came back with a buzzing object. A huge fucking vibrator. Grinning, he placed it on the bench, making the tip of the head barely touch my pussy lips and clit. I instantly shivered at the sensation, so turned up already and wanting so badly to cum.
Smack!
I cried out from the pain and pleasure stinging my ass as Isaac drew back the riding crop he’d picked up from the side of the bench.
“You’re not to move,” he told me. “You’re to stay perfectly still while that vibrator teases your pussy and the only thing I want to see move is your arm as you cover your scars with whipped cream again. Understand?”
I was breathless, wanting to protest. I needed to cum so bad. I was so turned on it was unreal. But I did as he commanded.
“Yes, Master,” I replied.
The session went on to last another hour, and I was whipped several times for moving, but each time I didn’t, Isaac rewarded me with his mouth and a bit of pleasure, licking and cleaning my scars. By the time it was over, I’d gotten better at being perfectly still and I was rewarded with one of the hardest fucks Isaac had given me.
My eyes flicker back to the mirror, to the scars on my body. Scars that now have a different memory. My heart clenches in my chest. This isn’t what I thought it would be. It’s so much more. Submitting to Isaac makes me feel liberated.
My past is losing its grip on me. And it's all thanks to Isaac.
As if summoned by my thoughts, a terror that constantly haunts me, one of the recurring images that has viciously torn me from my sleep and kept me a captive to my past for years, rages in my vision.
I can see my old Master's sick smile as he hits me, delighting in the perverse pleasure my pain brings him. I can see the scene unfold as if I'm having an out-of-body experience, and I see myself cowering in the corner as he beats me over and over again, the back of hand slamming against my cheek, splitting my lip open and filling my mouth with the metallic taste of blood. Unconsciously, I raise a hand to my face, touching where he struck me.
But there’s no pain there. No bruises.
It’s not real, I tell myself confidently, shocked at how little I’m affected by that horrible image, just a fading memory.
“You need a bath, kitten,” Isaac says, breaking me out of my reverie.
I take in a sharp breath as I see him standing in front of the beautiful garden tub, cloaked in steam, his dress shirt unbuttoned and rumpled, his black dress pants doing little to hide the huge bulge in his pants. My nipples pebble, my mouth waters, and my pussy clenches with need as I think about how he will soon be cleaning me himself, his hot hands roaming every inch of my body. I want it. I want him.
“Yes, Master,” I say obediently, a feeling of warmth lacing with my desire. I feel so safe in Isaac’s presence. I could not have asked for a better Master. But I’m starting to feel a little lightheaded from the steam. Today has been such a long day, and I’m tired. Taking a warm, steamy bath will hopefully help me relax.
He gestures at my robe. “Take that off.”
I do as he says, letting the pink robe slip off my shoulders and fall to the floor. I don’t miss the flash of desire in Isaac’s eyes as he surveys my naked body, my hardened nipples, my flesh riddled with goosebumps, and the chain attached to my clit. Exactly how he likes me.
His eyes burning, he walks over to me and places a hand on my abdomen, tracing his name he’s written across it before taking the chain off from around my neck and then unclipping the other end from my clit. The action makes my back bow with the sharp release on my tender throbbing clit. My head falls back and his fists my hair at the base of my neck. “Good girl, kitten,” he whispers, kissing my exposed neck and releasing me. I glance down at my midsection where his name is scrawled, feeling a sense of pride. Every day he writes his name on me, reminding me that I belong to him… but I want so badly to ask if I can write my name on him. I haven’t, afraid it might displease him.
He’d probably let me if I ask, I tell myself. As much as I want to please him, my happiness matters to him. It’s obvious to me now.
“Take off your anklet, kitten,” Isaac orders next, his voice heavy, his eyelids hooded with lust. He never touches the anklet. It’s truly mine. And so far, it’s helped at night. The weight mimics the shackle. But the w
ay Isaac looks at it makes me uneasy.
I’m quick to bend down and remove it for the shower. Just like I’ve done every day.
I know where the clasps are and I lean against the wall, still feeling exhausted and weak from the day and unhook the first, and then the second.
My heart stops short as the metal falls over my ankle.
So much like before.
I’ll always be your Master. I hear his voice, and see his cruel, smiling visage. My heart races, and the room starts spinning around me. Oh my God. Not here. Not now. I feel like I’m going to throw up as a crushing weight settles on my chest and my whole body begins shaking. Fuck. I can’t catch my breath as my heart pounds out of my chest, and my vision begins to narrow into a tiny little dot.
I can’t breathe. My fingers grip the anklet, but I don’t feel the studded Swarovski, instead it’s the rough cast iron. I lean against the drywall of the luxurious bathroom, but that’s not where I am. It’s the hard, rough concrete walls of the small room he kept me in.
He’s dead. My Master’s dead. I can feel the key in my hand as the shackle falls to the ground with a loud clank.
Did they hear? My heart races faster. What I have I done? Fear grips me. I have to run. I need to run. They can’t find me. I can't let that happen.
The metal slips from my hand as I cover my mouth and feel paralyzed, knowing if I can’t escape, they’ll kill me. Slowly, painfully, for nothing more than their enjoyment.
As the floor rushes up to meet me, the last thing I see is a blur rushing at me and deep voice yelling, “Kitten!”
Chapter 23
Isaac
Fuck! My fingers dig into Katia’s waist as her knees buckle and she nearly topples forward. I saw it happening in slow motion. I’ve been waiting for something, anything to come of the anklet, but I didn’t think it would be this.
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