Carnal Slave (17 page)

“I don’t want to be like that.”

“Yes you do.” Only half believing what he was doing, he brushed her hair back from her face. “Otherwise what are you?”

Mouth open, she stared around at the world he’d forced her into. At length her gaze settled on the closest camera.

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “Master.”

He didn’t want to feel sorry for her, damn it, didn’t want to spend a single second wondering what was going on inside her, but it was too late for that. He’d had conversations with other trainees but they’d followed a prescribed route. He’d demand they do and say certain things and they’d comply. Sometimes, particularly early in their training, he’d insist they call themselves animals. They had no choice but to do so.

“Then this is the right place for you to be,” he said at length. “I’m giving you structure and rules to obey. You don’t need anything else.”

Still not looking at him, she slowly shook her head. He tightened his hold on her nipple, but she didn’t seem to notice. After the better part of a minute, she sank down so her buttocks rested on her heels. “Maybe I don’t need more, Master.”

Turning her into a finely trained slave wasn’t this easy, but today they’d taken a huge step in that direction. If he had a regret, and he wasn’t sure he did, it was the impending loss of her ability to think for herself.

Once again the lines of her body caught his attention. Her back was slightly bowed, her flanks and hips a smooth tanned flow despite the abrasions. Her hair needed attention and her pussy needed another shaving. Those things gave her an untamed appearance. Unlike a perfectly trained sex slave, imperfections etched her and made her human. If she was his he’d pierce her breasts and hang golden rings from them but leave her otherwise untouched. Most of the time he wouldn’t hide her long neck under a collar—unless he wanted to dive deeper into his role as master.

The way she now watched him, he wondered if she knew what was going through his mind. If she did, how was she reacting?

Maybe, and he completely understood that, she lived to escape his harsh treatment.

Maybe he was preferable to the unknown.

As she started rolling her shoulders again, pain contorted her features. He undid her wrists’ restraints. Nostrils flaring, she brought her arms forward and shook them.

“Thank you Master.”

She’d slipped back into the role he’d been forcing on her, as should he. Why then was he stepping behind her, straddling her feet, and massaging her neck?

The way she sighed, he half expected her to start purring. If Carnal management happened to look at this particular film they might call him in to explain his actions—which right now he couldn’t do.

“Thank you,” she repeated. “That feels so good.”

To the best of his recollection, no slave had ever said that to him but then he didn’t think he’d ever given one reason.

“So you’re grateful, are you?”

“Yes, very.”

“Be specific.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. No apprehension clouded her features. “If you want sex I’ll—I shouldn’t say that because you can take me whenever you want. Maybe you aren’t interested in—I’m sorry.”

He’d been doing this long enough that he’d bragged he could sense an aroused female from across the room. Placing his hands around her neck from behind, he massaged the tendons there. Her fingers fluttered over her thighs.

“Don’t touch your pussy. Let it talk to you.”

“Master?”

He waited until she was looking forward again. “Tell me what I did to you a few minutes ago. What about your ass?”

“You, ah, put something in it.”

“Something?”

Her head started to droop. Then she lifted it. “The whip handle. You moved it around inside me. You also made it vibrate. And your fingers—you fucked me with them.”

“Did you come?”

She started running her hands over her thighs, paused. “I was so close. I’d started to—then you stopped. How did you know when to do that, Master?”

The
Master
had been tucked on, an afterthought.

“I know women,” he said when the truth was he knew their bodies far better than he did their minds. Stepping closer so his cock pressed against the back of her head, he reached around and trailed his fingers over her breasts. She held her breath then let it escape.

To his surprise he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Damn it, he could write the book on forcefully pushing a female’s buttons, but seduction was something else.

Seduction? Hell no.

“Master?”

She shuddered and tried to twist to the side. He belatedly realized he’d started raking her breasts. Just like that the well-paid slave trainer he’d been for longer than he wanted to think about reasserted himself. He knew how inflict pain, punish, and force. To train for monetary gain.

“Hands and knees,” he commanded. “Ass up.”

At least she knew enough not to question the sudden shift. He hadn’t gone into today’s session with the goal of fucking her twice. Truth was he was no longer a randy buck. He needed recuperation time.

But not now. His throbbing erection was calling the shots.

Careful not to risk distraction by studying her, he planted himself behind her ass, roughly pulled her cheeks apart, bent his knees, and plugged her still-dripping hole.

“Ah, yes,” she muttered. “Thank you.”

Trainees didn’t willingly say that, damn it! Experience warned him to remind her of her lowly place in the pecking order, but his cock didn’t heed the message. He’d just housed it in a warm, soft, wet cave and it wanted to stay there. Instead of hard need, he felt relaxed. Slave training was more physically and psychologically demanding than anyone on the outside would ever grasp. There was no such thing as bringing less than his A game if he wanted to remain employed. Emotions didn’t belong.

Neither of them moved for long seconds. Then he started massaging her spine. Blowing out a long breath, she pushed herself against him.

He responded by sliding deeper into her. A few of his fellow trainers—mostly the new ones—plundered their trainees’ orifices from the beginning. Not taking advantage of captive naked female flesh took tremendous self-control, but he’d always delayed sex as long as possible. Hell, twice he’d delivered a slave for sale without having personally fucked her. Truth was, surrendering his cock to a vagina, mouth, or ass was more than a little disconcerting. What if he lost himself in one of those openings? What if she somehow wrestled self-control from his grasp?

The questions tried to assert themselves today, but it was too late. He was inside her, pieces of his mind breaking off while primal beast strengthened and grew.

Don’t fight. Enjoy. Be man.

Grateful for a sense of direction, he began rutting. She held herself firm and ready with her head down and limbs braced for attack. In contrast to her straining muscles, her pussy pillowed and blanketed him. Made him feel as if he was coming home.

Wanted. Sweet damn, she wanted him!

More of his intellect splintered as he thrust wildly. By turn her sex tightened around him and relaxed so his cock slid free and hot.

Nothingness surrounded him, sucked him deep. His hands were on the move over her, his legs burning. The roaring in his ears matched his harsh grunts. There was no
quit
in him, no command over his body. Deep, ever deeper. Hunting joy and release.

Finding it.

Hearing her scream.

And when he was done and his discharge leaked from her, wondering what the hell had happened.

Telling himself it never would again.

The days and nights melted together in Willow’s mind. She hadn’t been beaten for a while for which she was grateful. If only she could get enough sleep so she could pull her thoughts together, but Master Damek never left her alone long enough for that. Even if he wasn’t with her, someone else was there to make sure the other captives and she didn’t slack off on their exercise. As her muscles strengthened and her lung capacity grew, she fantasized about using her newly-strong body to escape, but every time she imagined herself running free into the surrounding wilderness, her bonds brought her back to reality.

Leather always circled her neck as did the metal bands now locked around her wrists and ankles. Sometimes Master Damek left her in her stall with just the collar and bands, but she only had to look at or touch proof of her slavery to be reminded of how easily he could restrain her.

And restrain he often he did—a leash as he led her about, leg hobbles that reduced her to awkward shuffling, her arms behind, in front, or above her.

Other than to command, he no longer spoke to her. Every morning began with a cold shower. He still tied her so her legs were spread but instead of shaving her pubic hair himself, he commanded her to do it while he watched and the relentless camera recorded her every move. The first time she’d been so embarrassed she hadn’t been able to lift her head, but now she no longer cared. The watchers weren’t real, and if they were, they couldn’t touch her. Yet.

Lesson followed lesson. She was taught how to gracefully kneel with her legs widespread, her breasts out-thrust, and her mouth open for use.

She serviced Master orally until her jaw ached. He never said whether her efforts pleased him, but if they didn’t wouldn’t he punish her?

Because begging wouldn’t have changed anything, she remained silent each time he filled her ass with a plug and strapped her into it. He kept subjecting her with a larger one, saying only that her master might want her well-spread.

Having both her ass and vagina filled was disconcerting, especially when she had to step onto a treadmill and hold to a trot until sweat streamed off her. Hard as she tried not to let him know how much the twin sensations excited her, his expression left no doubt that he did.

“Your master will want you in heat,” he’d explained. “That way he’ll have your full attention and occasionally your gratitude. This insures the condition.”

She hadn’t been allowed to climax since the day they’d had sex. Yes, it had been sex and not rape, she admitted. She’d wanted to fuck as much as he had and they’d come at nearly the same instant. Several times daily Master Damek took advantage of her mouth and frequently climaxed, so why didn’t he use her pussy? Was it because he intended to keep her frustrated or was something else—something connected to his emotional distance—responsible?

And why did she care?

Today he’d come for her at dawn and they’d gone through the ritual that left her pussy-clean shaven and body shivering. He’d taken her into the training room and ordered her to crawl onto a mattress on the floor. Then he’d cuffed her hands behind her and locked her ankles together. Just before leaving, he’d placed her food bowl on the floor near her. She’d managed to swallow about half of it before the hopelessness of her situation overwhelmed her and she lay on her side, defeated. For the first time in nearly week her ass and/or pussy weren’t filled. Without the distraction and no one else in the room, she stared up at the barred window where freedom waited.

She should hate Master Damek but she didn’t. She wanted to, yet her feelings where he was concerned were too complex for that. Much easier was mentally cursing whoever had told Carnal Incorporated about her. Was that person or persons watching, curious about what she was thinking?

Let them wonder. Her mind was the one thing they couldn’t reach.

The curtain was pushed aside and two men walked in. She recognized her master but hadn’t seen the other one before. Was the stranger contemplating buying her?

“She isn’t bad,” the newcomer said. “Not outstanding, but we seldom get stunners.

Think she’ll be ready?”

Master Damek punched the other man on the shoulder. “Will yours? How about you worry about your bitch, I’ll concern myself with mine.”

“Not a problem. I just wanted to get an idea what this one might bring.”

“More than the cow you brought with you.”

“Cow?” The newcomer knelt beside her and rolled her onto her back as if she was a piece of merchandise. He grabbed her breasts and squeezed. “Mine has bigger knockers. Firmer too.”

Don’t talk about me like that. I’m a human being.

Wasn’t she?

“Because your slut bought hers. Too bad she didn’t get her money’s worth.”

“Yeah. Well, there’s not much I can do about that.” The way the muscular stranger ran his hands over her breasts, she had no doubt he knew what he was doing. This man wasn’t just groping, was examining. “Good density here. I’ll have to give you that. I’m surprised you haven’t ringed her. That never lowers a slave’s price.” He made his point by pinching her nipples and moving them in a circle.

Ringed. Ringed. Pierced.

“I’ve thought about that.”

Despite her fear of what the men might do next, she stared at her master. Something in his tone reminded her of the day when, briefly, they’d been equals.

“Yeah?” the other man said. “Big decision?”

“None of your damn business. So are we going to do it or not?”

“Sure. I’m just enjoying some of the real stuff. Almost forgot what it felt like.” His hold let up, but she didn’t dare relax. “Something about what you said during our last conversation made me think this one’s a little different. Am I reading you right?”

“Maybe.”

“In what way?”

“Enough with the shrink talk. Are we going to do it?”

“Of course.” After releasing her nipples, he stood. Fortunately his grip hadn’t been that painful, either that or even her breasts were adjusting to her new lot in life. “So, to spell out the guidelines and to celebrate my and my slave’s arrival, here’s how the wager goes. I decide what paces I want you to put your slut through. Then when you’re done, we bring in my bitch and you give me a task. Winner buys all the drinks between now and the auction.”

Lifting his foot, Master Damek rubbed his shoe over her middle. “Go for it. For the record, slave, Reno and I have known each other since we signed on at Carnal. Our methods aren’t exactly the same but we get the necessary results.”

She barely took note of the other man’s name. If he wanted to, Master Damek could badly injure her by applying more weight, yet she saw nothing of a threat in his expression. It had to be her imagination making her think he was trying to connect with her.