Carnal Slave (6 page)

“Get up.”

She’d forgotten how wide the collar was. Now, as she awkwardly rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself to her feet, her inability to move her head scared her more than her useless arms did. Sick, she faced him.

She again drew comparisons between herself and a dog as he hauled her over to the middle of the room where a hanging chain with a ring at the end waited. He dropped the leash, picked up the rope, and threaded the two strands between her legs. Because of the damnable collar, she couldn’t tell what he was doing behind her until the ropes pressed against her crotch. Thinking to lessen the pressure, she placed her hands against her mons. The even-tightening ropes flattened her labia and pulled her hands between her legs. She had no choice but to lean forward and rise onto her toes.

When Damek appeared before her, she realized he’d tied her to the overhead chain directly behind her. The chant
this isn’t happening
continued.

“There. Now you’re where you need to be.” He unhooked the leash and tossed it behind him, then stepped back and studied her. “I intend to hear you scream because eventually you’ll say what you need to in order to survive. Some of my co-workers believe in spelling things out, but I’d rather force my subjects to think. Wait, let me amend that. The sooner you figure out what’s required of you, the sooner things will start going easier for you—except
easy
is a lie.”

He turned away and all but sauntered back to the cupboard. The way he’d tied her, she was off-balance and still on her toes. Maybe she’d have more control over her body if she could stop shaking. As a child, she’d had no choice but to go to church every Sunday and two nights a week. She read the Bible every night and prayed before every meal. No matter how much she’d wanted a stylish haircut or to dress the way most girls her age did, she knew better than to ask her fundamentalist parents.

It felt that way now.

Only worse.

Fighting waves of dread, she watched Damek return. He carried several whips she couldn’t bring herself to study. Instead, her gaze fixed on the powerful, dominant man. Her skinny father had ruled with threats of hell, a raised voice, and spankings. Insane as it was, she preferred Damek. He wasn’t handsome but confidence exuded from him. He had her exactly where he wanted her and had no doubt about the final outcome. No matter how much she resisted, he’d break through her layers, reach her core, and do what he wanted with her.

She’d long been looking for a take-charge man, but Damek had found her and now—now what?

“I want you to think about one thing while I punish you.” He held up each whip in turn as if asking her opinion. “This first time I’ll keep things simple for you. You and I will have a well-defined relationship. Neither of us will need to question the parameters of that relationship because we each understand our roles.”

Even with her heart racing, she acknowledged his intelligence. Unlike her simple, dogmatic father, Damek expected her to meet him on his level.

One by one he dropped the instrument of torture until only a duplicate of what she’d seen being used on the woman earlier remained. Terror threatened to overwhelm her. At the same time, she couldn’t help but admire him. She’d never be able to match his assertiveness. In truth, she’d never known such self-confidence existed.

“About your task.” He snapped his wrist so the whip cut through the air. “I expect you to demonstrate to me your understanding of your role.”

“Please, please.” She couldn’t remember deciding to speak.

“Begging is part of the agenda all right, but that’s not what I’m getting at. Concentrate.”

He again snapped his wrist, making the whip hiss. “Granted, comprehending your mission throughout the process won’t be easy, but it’s essential.”

He lifted his arm. A half-second later, the whip slashed her right hip. Screaming, she tried to escape. Humming, he moved a little to the left and struck her left hip. A second scream drowned the echo of the first.

“That’s a lovely and essential sound. Proof that I’m already getting somewhere.”

“Please, please, no.”

“Sorry, the operant word is yes. Yes I’m going to beat you.”

Her world became fire as the instrument of torture found her arms, breasts, buttocks, back, and calves. She shivered violently. No matter how many times her captured body refused to obey her desperate command to flee, she couldn’t stop trying. The rope, which had slipped between her ass cheeks, ground against her pussy while her pulled-down arms felt as if they were being pulled out of their sockets. Even though doing so abraded her labia, she repeatedly twisted from side to side. He didn’t strike where her bones were closest to the surface. Instead, he concentrated the punishment on her ass, thighs, and breasts. The blows were knifelike, laying down thin rivers of deep-reaching pain.

“Please, oh God, please, mercy!”

“There is no God.” Grabbing the collar ring, he pulled her toward him. “There’s only me, and I’m the devil. Your hell.”

Her parents had been wrong, she thought when he released her and resumed whipping her. The evil being her mother and father had preached about was nothing like the real thing.

“Why me, why me?”

“I ask the questions, slave, not you.”

Suddenly he was gone. Thinking he’d dropped to his knees, she tried to look down, but the collar made that impossible. Like a cow waiting for slaughter, she waited.

Just as suddenly as he’d left, he returned, or rather he stood up. The thin whip was gone and in its place a short, lightweight cat-o’nine-tails.

“I can’t, oh God, please, don’t.” When had she started crying?

“There. Is. No. God.” He struck her breasts in time with each word. “Only. Me.”

The devil. Yes, that’s who he was.

He again stopped talking and concentrated on aiming the cat-o’-nine-tails so it laid down a multitude of fire-trails. Spent, she stopped trying to get away. Simply tried to survive.

She whimpered and gasped and sometimes cried out, but she no longer begged her abuser to take pity on her. He’d told her to concentrate on something, maybe answer something, but her mind had shut down. Only outlasting him mattered.

In a vague way she knew that wasn’t possible, that he could and might go on hitting her until nothing remained of her. From what she could tell, he hadn’t drawn blood, but every inch throbbed. In some ways she hated her body’s ability to feel as much as she hated him.

She needed to be dead. That was her only reprieve.

“Getting to the end of your endurance, are you?” He violently struck her right thigh. “I think of this as past the point of no return.” He again slashed the same spot. “Diminishing returns for me. You can’t hurt any more than you do right now.”

What was he saying? Did he really expect her to understand?

He sighed as if weary. In contrast, the blows now raining down on her buttocks were as strong as they’d been at the beginning. She wanted out, to no longer be part of her body.

“Just before we started this exercise,” he said, “I advised you to concentrate on your role in it. The exercise has been going on long enough for you to feel familiar with it, to understand its purpose.”

The whip attacked her breasts. “Time for you to do more than experience and participate, got it?”

A question? Oh God, what had he asked?

The storm continued. Her breasts burned. “What are you? It’s a simple word, only five letters long. I’ve even handed it to you.”

He was going to hurt her until she gave him what he wanted, abuse her skin and nerves and drive her mad.

“Slave.” The word burst from between her clenched teeth. “I’m a slave.”
Am I?

Positioning himself in front of her, he again snagged her collar and forced her to look him in the eye. With his free hand, he beat her buttocks and the backs of her thighs.

“Then who am I?”

No no no! Not that!

“Your choice, slave. Either I continue demonstrating which of us is in charge or you spit out the word.”

He and the whip were everywhere, controlling the air she breathed and turning her body against her.

“My arm’s going strong.” His breath seared her forehead while the cat-o’-nine-tails clawed at her ass. “Believe me, I can do this longer than you can. Sooner or later you’ll say what you have to. Holding out won’t change the outcome.”

You’re right. Oh god, you’re right.
“Master.”

The blows didn’t slow. “Go on.”

“You—you’re my master.”

Willow was on her knees. Master Damek had drawn her arms out behind her at shoulder level and tied them to a couple of wall hooks. Her whole body was covered in sweat, a remnant from her beating of maybe a half hour ago. She might have a better grasp of time if he hadn’t said he was considering letting her have something to drink. He’d left her hanging with the rope digging into her crotch for a while after uttering those horrid yet true words, but eventually he’d let her down. She’d collapsed and huddled in a miserable ball until he kicked her and told her to follow him—on her hands and knees.

Another man walked in while she was crawling after this monster who’d become her master. Ignoring her, the newcomer removed the woman’s blindfold and released her restraints but left her gagged and with her holes plugged.

“You leaving?” Damek asked.

“Not yet. This one—“ The man slapped the woman’s cheek. “is horny. Time for her to earn a little pleasure. You get anything from yours yet?”

Reaching down, Damek roughly massaged her aching breasts. “No, but I’m looking forward to it. According to her ex-boyfriend she’s hot to trot.”

Boyfriend?
Willow tried to concentrate on what Master Damek had just said only to lose the thought, if she’d had one. Water. He was going to let her drink.

“Hey,” Master Damek pinched a nipple. “Are you listening? Just thought I’d let you know that your ex praised you. Given how things ended between the two of you, you’re probably thinking Mitch didn’t say anything complimentary about you, but you’re wrong. Would you like to know what it is?”

Confused, she nodded as best she could.

Smiling, he ran a finger over her throat just above the collar. “I haven’t used this model before. Now I can see why it’s popular. It forces you to look front and center, thus guaranteeing I’ll have your attention. About Mitch’s compliment, he spoke highly of your breasts.”

Despite her new master’s light tone, she felt chilled. She tried to look down at herself, but his hands were in the way. Even though her breasts were a solid C, her parents had insisted she wear B cups. They’d been old lady bras designed to conceal not celebrate. She now wore lace and underwire, or rather she had until this man had taken away her right to wear anything.

“You came up with the word I was waiting for when you called me Master, but you don’t really know what you’re saying. You don’t feel it in your gut which is what lesson number two is about.”

No more lessons, please.

Humming a maddening hum, he left her. Going by the sounds to her right, she guessed he’d returned to the cupboard. The other slave—how she hated the word!—was no longer near the X. Still wearing her gag and pussy restraint, she crawled after the man who undoubtedly was her master. They headed toward a sturdy, oversized sawhorse. Spotting the leather restraints on the sawhorse legs, Willow put one and one together.

“Wait a minute,” the other man said. “I just had an idea.” He pointed a finger at his slave. “I want you to give the new slave a glimpse of what the pussy harness I locked on you accomplished.”

The gagged woman had been staring at her master’s feet. Now she lifted her head and looked up at Willow. Willow didn’t want to know what the other woman was thinking, yet there was one thing she had no doubt of. Her fellow slave hated her existence.

“Go on,” the man snapped. “Show her.”

The woman turned around so her buttocks were to Willow. She widened her stance, then lowered her head to the floor. Reaching behind her, she pulled her ass cheeks apart. Even with the leather straps in the way, Willow saw how the two plugs distended her pussy and ass opening. Sex juices tracked down the sides of her thighs.

Watching Willow, the man stepped behind the kneeling woman and roughly pushed against the dildo. Groaning, the woman clenched her buttock muscles.

“You’re corrupting my trainee,” Damek muttered. “That’s probably the first adult pussy she’s ever seen.”

“How do you know? Maybe she—“

“Believe me, she only swings one way.”

“What if we cure her of that?”

“Maybe later. Right now I want her focus on me.”

“Your call. By the way, I’ve already had a couple of weeks to work with my slave. She’ll bring a lot more than yours.”

“In your dreams. Now get the hell to your corner. I have work to do.”

In some respects the banter between Master Damek and the other man were the same as what she’d heard at work. Raymont and his supervisors respected each other. At the same time they were competitive. The biggest difference between work and now was that Raymont had praised anyone’s success in cost cutting while this—this was what?

“Your knockers might be your greatest asset,” her master said, “but I never second-guess buyers. First order of business is to place focus on them. The sooner you realize what they’re good for, the greater value bidders will put on them.” He chuckled. “I was going to say men but given that Carnal doesn’t discriminate, a woman might buy you.”

Buy? Oh God, no!

But Master Damek had already said God didn’t exist.

He held up a length of red rope and a pair of nipple clamps connected to each other via a heavy chain. Remembering the clamps on the woman she’d seen being dragged from the training room, she shuddered.

“So you know what these are.”

Unable to stop herself, she shuddered again. The way he’d tied her with her arms stretched behind her prominently displayed her breasts. And she couldn’t get away.

“I asked you a question, slave.” He stuck her right breast with a clamp. “Tell me what these are for.”

“My—my nipples.”