Carnal Slave (11 page)

Would he say that if the tables were turned? For some unknown reason, the question calmed her a little. She was his to play with, teach, and punish. That didn’t mean she had to drown in every pit he threw her into.

She’d panicked over the thought of being reamed in the ass, but that wasn’t any worse than being chained down, butt-plugged, and flogged. Maybe it would be better.

“Position,” he said. “Position. Vital to your training. Pleasing to your owner. Something to take pride in.”

He struck her every few seconds so she found a cadence in the blows. Much as she craved the outlet that had come with screaming, she vowed not to lose control like that again.

Master Damek was taking her mind and body where it had never been, restraining her in ways she’d never thought possible. Because she couldn’t stop him, she’d do the only thing left to her.

She’d live in the pain. The humiliation. The ass plug, heavy collar, splayed legs, dangling breasts. Become one with the unwanted world.

Survive.

“Let’s see if you can do it again.”

Willow stood under yet another of the large room’s endless hanging chains. Master had hobbled her, cuffed her hands behind her, and connected them to the chain. That done, he’d pulled up on the chain until her arms were as high as they’d go and she was bent over. Once he’d had her where he wanted her, he’d placed leather straps over and under her breasts which squeezed them together. As if that wasn’t enough, he’d forced a large rubber ball into her mouth and secured it under her chin, against her cheeks, even the top of her head. He’d fastened the back of the head harness to the overhead chain so she could barely move her upper body.

Some five or six feet away, one of the other women stood tied much the same way.

Despite her own situation, Willow couldn’t take her eyes off the silent, nervous creature. Did her eyes mirror the same helpless expression?

Helpless, not hopeless. Don’t ever forget that.

“Restraint comes in all forms, slave,” Master told her. “It’s limited only by an owner’s imagination. I touched on this issue earlier. No master is interested in a slave who has lost her fear of him. Men the world over live constrained by their society’s conventions. They have responsibilities. They may work for someone else or run their own businesses. They need to keep a roof over their and their families’ heads, if they have them. Only the rich who truly comprehend what large amounts of money will give them have access to the outlet a great many men crave.”

He was talking nonsense again. At least she told herself it was. She didn’t give a damn about some man she’d never met—unless he bought her.

Bought. That word again.

“Men might turn to drugs or alcohol, but those things are crutches. They don’t give the same power. In fact they take power away.”

Judging by her expression, the other woman was trying to follow what Master Damek was saying. Her trainer had left after getting her in position, and Willow wondered where he’d gone and what would happen when he returned.

Master waved a slender paddle in front of Willow’s face. “Your father believed in corporal punishment, right?”

Too deep in dismal anticipation to wonder how he knew that, she tried to nod. “Did he ever use something like that?”

She shook her head. Her father had preferred his belt, maybe because he’d never taken the time to look for anything else.

“And you always knew why you were being punished?”

She had the vague feeling he’d asked her this or something like it before. Wincing from the effort, she again shook her head. Looking at the other captive would be easier than concentrating on Master, but she didn’t dare lose focus.

“You pretty much hated your old man, didn’t you? Unfortunately for you, your fear of him was stronger than your hatred. He sensed your weakness and used it to his advantage.

Punishing you for reasons known only to him was part of his methodology. He couldn’t afford a human possession, but he could and did control you.”

Master Damek was saying her old man had had a lot in common with him and the other trainers. What had her mother’s role been in the way she’d been treated? Had her mother had the same need to dominate or had she blindly followed her husband’s lead?

“Thinking about what I just said, are you?” Master ran the paddle over her belly. “Given your current situation, you don’t have much choice.” He demonstrated his point by forcing his fingers between a leather chest strap and her flesh. “Back to the present, slave. Several times you’ve failed to follow the rules. That won’t be allowed, understand. Ever. Absolute compliance on your part is essential. As for what I’m going to get out of it—“

He cupped a breast and pushed it against her chest wall. “I’ll closely observe you to see if you start to slide into sub space. A little of that’s allowed, but I intend to dictate the timing and duration. Also—“ He pointedly looked at the ceiling. “I want to give your audience something to look at.”

My audience
.

“Sex is the ultimate intimate act. Until now the only sex you’ve experienced is with someone you trust. You view it as a pleasurable activity. Climaxing is a primitive function, and Carnal doesn’t deny its slaves that release for reasons I ascribe to completely. However, it’s vital for slaves to never confuse their sexual satisfaction in bondage with what takes place in a relationship between equals.”

Frowning, he studied her then glanced at the other bound woman. “I do have a tendency to slip into teacher mode.” His features suddenly grim, he grabbed her left nipple and twisted it. She cried out. “We aren’t equals, are we?”

Determined to do whatever she needed to so he’d stop, she shook her head.

“That’s right. Here’s another demonstration of the gap between us. You need punishing.

I will provide it. End of discussion.”

What discussion? She couldn’t speak.

Looking at someone whose restraints pretty much mirrored hers forced home the essence of what he’d just said. Then Master Damek stepped back, released her nipple, and struck it with the flexible paddle. Just like that she stopped thinking.

Not long ago he’d tattooed her legs and buttocks with the whip. In contrast he now focused on her breasts and belly. He occasionally hit her mons but left her legs alone. Time after time he flogged her vulnerable breasts. The various straps and bonds on her body confused her. She couldn’t think how to move so hung there as if she’d lost her will. The other woman stared at the ground.

Blow after blow landed on her obscenely offered breasts, the sound like a ripe watermelon being thumped. When he adjusted so only her right breast received punishment, she instinctively turned away trying to protect it. Unfortunately, her tightly tethered feet couldn’t respond, leaving her twisted at the waist.

“Fear me, slave. Fear every man with the right to wield a whip or flogger on your body.”

Maybe he’d intended to turn her this way. Maybe he only wanted to see what she’d do.

Whichever it was, she’d trapped herself. Her right breast became a mass of pain. With each blow, agony pushed deeper into her. She shrieked and cursed but didn’t cry. The gag muted most of what she was saying, seemed to force the sounds back inside her. She lost touch with her limbs, could no longer see.

Suddenly he stopped abusing her breast and started massaging it. Utterly confused, she refused to look at him. Despite herself, she was grateful for the unexpected kindness.

“Pleasure and pain,” he said. Using her nipple as his handle, he drew her back around.

“More pain now followed by whatever pleasant sensations I decide to grant you.”

She should have known he wasn’t done punishing her, but her mind was in too much turmoil to focus. Only one thing came through—the paddle had found her left breast.

“Feel my power. Never doubt what I’m capable of, slave.”

He said other things, but her world again revolved around unrelenting pain. He’d restrained her head so she couldn’t look down at herself, not that she had the courage for that.

In her mind’s eye, a cage had closed down around her, squeezed her smaller and smaller, reduced her to nothing.

Agony circling her like a vulture.

She again tried to protect her breast by twisting away only to lose her balance. She all but hung by her upraised arms until she managed to get her feet under her again.

More broken sounds shot past the ball gag. Sweat streamed off her. She drooled and lost bladder control.

“Beg me to stop, slave.” He repeatedly stuck the top of her swollen, throbbing breast.

“Promise me anything, not that there isn’t any part of you I can’t take.”

That she wouldn’t do! She couldn’t hold back the guttural cries, but she refused to break down before him.

The blows weren’t as painful as they’d been at the beginning, either that or her breast was becoming numb. The rhythm remained the same. Relentless. He struck her, struck her, dropped her back down into the deep, dark cage.

“Who am I, slave? What’s my name?”

“Ma-ther.”
Oh please, Master. Don’t kill me.

“Who do you belong to?”

Flames licked through her beaten and helpless breast. “You, Ma-ther.”

“What would make me stop?” The paddle landed on her nipple. Yelping, she reared back and again lost her balance. He let her hang. “Say the God damn words.”

Until now he’d sounded in control of himself which, maybe, was why she’d been able to hold onto a little sanity. The new note in his voice deeply chilled her. He spanked her left nipple once, twice, three times more, then did the same to the right.

The other captive shrieked through her gag.

Master Damek stopped with his arm uplifted. His breathing sounded nearly as labored as hers did. He opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. After a few seconds, he dropped the paddle. He wiped sweat from her sides, then stepped back. Groaning with every breath, she waited.

Their eyes met. Lost and frightened as she was, she took note of his changing emotions.

He was pulling himself out of his own cage, laboring with every step, not understanding himself.

How could that be?

Maybe he realized what he’d given away because he closed his eyes and jerked his head from side to side. His breathing still took work.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck.”

What had happened? Who had he become?

“They want to see the whole picture,” he said long seconds later. His expression neutral now, he pointed at a spot on the ceiling to his right and behind him. Dreading what she had to do, she looked up. A small lens was trained on her. The longer she stared at it, the more she wondered who might be watching. One thing she had no doubt of—whoever it was might eventually buy her.

Master Damek positioned himself between her and the lens and faced it. “She can take a hard beating. Almost anything you want to dish out, she’ll weather it.”

No, she wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

If there was a part of her body that didn’t hurt, she hadn’t found it. Her legs and buttocks still stung from the earlier abuse he’d subjected them to. Far worse was the searing pain in the breasts she couldn’t see.

“Poor little body.” He patted her belly, prompting her to suck in a breath. “What a shame I have to abuse it, but if I don’t, you won’t learn.” His fingers inched toward the space between her legs. “You know what’s entailed in an education. I trust you understand the process we’re going through. Coming to accept your role as a sex slave is a complex process.

Fortunately, I’m ready and, yes, eager, to get you to the point of being able to graduate.”

Hot, sweaty fingers touched her labia. She lacked the strength to try to do anything about it. If only she could pass out.

Or free herself.

“I’ve taken you to the edge in one direction. Now we’re going to turn around and go the other way.”

He stepped out of her line of sight, giving her little to do except wait. Because she’d had so little of it as a child, she now valued her privacy. Having it ripped from her in the form of forced nudity, restraints, and an all-seeing camera eye took a huge hunk out of her. She’d vowed not to break down, but she might not be able to live up to the promise.

“Hmm. Ahhh.”

The sound of a feminine voice broke through her tumbling thoughts. The other captive was trying to say something. Desperate to connect, she struggled to reach out, but the words all ran together.

“Look at that,” a man said from behind her. He laughed. “The animals are getting along.”

“You’re sure about that?” Master Damek asked. “I can’t understand a word they’re saying.”

“It’s not like it matters.” The man stepped into view. He carried gleaming nipple clamps with a long connecting chain. “I’ve got some strong interest in this one.” He rubbed the woman’s breasts. “Her big boobs keep turning him on. If he buys her he wants her nipples pierced.”

What? No!

Master Damek suddenly appeared by her side. To her relief, he seemed more interested in the conversation than in her.

“So what’s this?” Master Damek indicated what the other man was holding. “His request?”

“Yep. And since money talks—“ He lightly slapped one clamp against the captive’s breast. “he’s going to get his wish. He also wants to hear what she thinks of his little idea.”

The woman’s eyes had widened the moment she spotted the clamps. If anything they became even larger as her handler began unbuckling her gag. She spit it out but didn’t speak.

“We’re making progress,” the man said. “Three, four days ago she would have been caterwauling by now. All right, slut, what are you supposed to say?”

She licked spittle off the corners of her mouth. “Thank you for removing my gag, Master Stoker.”

“Hmm.” He glared at her. “I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

“I’m sorry, Master Stoker.”

“You’re going to be even sorrier in a moment.” He looked over at Master Damek. “If I’d known how stupid she was I wouldn’t have taken her. Fortunately the interested party doesn’t give a damn about that. Okay, let’s give the customer what he wants.”