The training of Ophelia (Masters of the Mansion Series) (3 page)

“I’m going to fuck you O
phelia, does that you scare you? Does it excite you? Does the thought of knowing that you were taken by a stranger excite you? Does it excite you knowing that you are once again under my control, Ophelia?”

“No!” I hissed.

“Liar,” I calmly answered. “Leave your shoes on Ophelia and crawl over here. If you don’t obey me; I am going to turn you over my knee and wear your ass out.”

I knew that he would
do it; so I made my way over to him crawling on my knees. 

“I am a sadistic man, Ophelia;
so you would do well to obey me……..in all things………”

My face
flamed with embarrassment. The bastard was getting excited humiliating me.

I wrapped my fist in her
hair, pulling her head back and forcing her to look at me. “You will address me as Master—in my bed chamber!”

I began begging and immediately I could feel the liquid literally pouring down my inner thigh.

“I’m going to fuck you, Ophelia. I’m going to fold your legs back and plunge into that tight little hole of yours; while I stare you down and listen to your cries for mercy. Get your ass over on that bed”

I scurried to get up
, when his voice cut through the air, “Crawl Ophelia!”

I swayed
; crawling and conscious of the fact that I was totally exposed to this man who was now proclaiming,
ownership
of me.

I looked away
, as he undressed.

“Look at me!”

I meekly eyed him as he stripped, neatly placing his tailored suit over the chair that he had been sitting in.

***

I stroked myself, eyeing her and listening as her begging ensued.

“Please don’t hurt me; I promise that I will be good.”
I had no intentions of getting on this guy’s bad side—at least until I could get a read on him and figure out just how far that he would go to maintain control. I had no intentions of crossing him for
now
—I was biding my time.

There was also a part of me that knew that
I could take what was happening to me and use it as research. As kinky as things were in the mansion; safe, sane sex was practiced and the rules were followed with strictest discipline—I was actually in a safe environment to experiment sexually. Ironically enough I couldn’t be in better hands as far as being taken care of and kept from any manner of danger.

“Say I will be your good girl and
then put your legs back—do it!”

I commanded
her harshly once again, when I noted her resistance.

***

My fingers trembled as I spread myself open and began to beg for mercy. “Please don’t hurt me, I’ll be go
od; please. I’m sore from last night.”

He lowered his head between my leg
s and began lapping as I ran my fingers through his raven hair. I had no idea that under normal conditions Master Richard Baron would have corrected a slave for touching him without his permission.

Over and over
, he brought me right to the edge of orgasm and stopped.

My whines had now become cries of agony for release.
I knew from research that I had done that Masters and Doms use orgasm denial as a form of gaining control. It is unlike any other experience and unless you have experienced it, you don’t understand how a person can be brought to the point of begging. Once that you have experienced being brought to the edge over and over, you understand the concept of it—and why it is such a powerful tool in the hands of the Dom or Master.

***

Listening to her beg me—like I knew that she had never begged any other man, made me feel like attacking her and consuming every single bit of her; body and soul.

But when I saw the tears streaming down her face; I gave her what she cried for and
I licked, lapped, and sucked, until she was a quivering mass of submission.

I slid over her and huskily whispered i
n her ear, “Pin those legs back. You better keep them pinned back, or you’re getting that sweet little ass of yours whipped black and blue.

I watched her eyes roll back in her head
as I pushed into her. She immediately began begging me.

“Please, please, don’t hurt me; it feels like your tearing me open.”

I leaned down and tenderly took her breast in my mouth suctioning and flicking my tongue o
ver it and the fluid in her between her legs began flowing.

“Oh
, you make me feel so good; I’ve never, I’ve never; ahhhhhhh, ahhhhh, soooooooo fucking good.” She was crying out to me.

“Cum for me baby,” I commanded
as I plunged in and out of her. Her contorted face told me all that I needed to know.

Man
, she was so tight, like a vice gripped velvet glove—and she was mine…

Ophelia

I sat on my bed with my laptop trying to write an article for the magazine that had hired me.

How in the hell was I supposed to write an article
on, ‘The training of a slave;’ when I was the ‘slave’ that was being trained?

Not the same way that these women were being trained
; to be sold off to some Master. Was this even legal—I mean seriously?

Maybe that was the reason for the whole
cloak and dagger mystery
. Hell, I didn’t even know Richard’s surname. And the worst thing of all was that I was suffering from ‘writer’s block,’ an affliction that I never suffered with.

I was one of the rare Author’s that never suffered from the dreaded plague of being
‘blocked up;’ with no flow of words. Richard was not inspiring me, he was hindering me and that wasn’t going to work for me. I would most certainly be letting him know about it too. If he thought that he was going to intrude on my creativity, screw him and his job, he was probably ‘bluffing’ anyway.

Nobody was that powerful—w
ere they?

Master Richard Baron

Richard leaned back in his chair and let his mind drift back to the nig
ht before. The look on her face as she cried out begging him for mercy; was priceless.

He felt a stirring in his loins
immediately. This girl brought out something in him that he had not experienced in a long time.

He wanted her
, in the worst sort of way; the kind of way that would not take no for an answer.

He thought back to the first day that he seen her. Her long
, tall, and full busted figure filled out the suit that she wore. Her long layered blonde hair had a wild, but yet classy look to it. She had addressed that room full of men with no fear and by the time the meeting was over, she had them eating out of the palm of her hand.

She was everything that intrigued him, a strong and in control woman. She was beautiful, smart, indepe
ndent, but more than anything—she was a challenge. She was a challenge and by the time that he was done with her, she would submit to no other man but him. Or so Richard thought…

Ophelia

“I have seen enough, now have one of your cronies come and pick up the story.”
I spoke into my phone with courage.

I was feeling good, in fact
, quite confident—over the phone that is. I had it all figured out, if I could just stay out of his presence, I would be fine.

“So when are they coming
? I have things to do.”

“Oh
, they will be right over, Ophelia.”

I should ha
ve known that it was too easy—just too fucking easy.

I had sorely underestimated my opponent.

Master Richard Baron

I opened the door and my face fell. There stood Richard in all of his glory. The proverbial, “If looks could kill,” took on new meaning with this man
. He was pissed and his coal black eyes literally permeated with the heat of that anger.

“
Get in the fucking car now, Ophelia! And you won’t be coming back here!”

“I need to pack an
overnight bag,” I screeched, as he pulled me along.

“An overnight bag my ass!” He hissed
, as he commanded the driver that accompanied him to lock my door and give him the keys when he finished.

Geez, does the guy think of eve
rything? Now he has got my keys

Little did I know that those
keys would be the least of my worries.

***

“Richard, Richard, Richard, please
, I promise I’ll be good.”

Telling him that ‘I would be good’ seemed to be the only thing that worked with him—so I told him what I thought that he wanted to hear.

I walked up behind my little victim and growled in her ear, “Don’t you dare turn to look at me.” I watched, as she shook her head up and down.

I stood trembling and crying
, as he growled into my ear. “I am very disappointed in you.”

“I, I,
I’m,” was all that I was able to stutter.

“Shh, I did not give yo
u permission to speak, tsk, tsk, you are on speech restriction, young lady.”

I circled my little victim as I spoke. “Now Ophelia, I bet that you are wondering why I have you subdued outside with metal pipe straps.”

When I tried to answer, he viciously grabbed me by the hair of the head and growled through clenched teeth, “What part of speech restriction don’t you understand? But……. There is always the ‘dental gag’ method.”

His words hit me like a brick wall. I had done enough research
on BDSM to know I wasn’t saying anything else and fucking up my $15,000.00 porcelain veneered mouth.

“I
thought so; being that you invested so much money into that mouth of yours.” He hissed.

“How the fuck, did he know that?” I thought.

As if reading my mind he continued speaking, “I have access to much more than your dental records, sweetie.”

Sweetie my ass,
I am not your baby, sweetie, honey or anything else!

He leaned in like we had a secret and facetiously said, “It’s because I’m going to cane you. Remember that little secret that I told you about me having a sadistic streak? That is a rhetorical question by the way—one not in need of an answer.” He continued in a matter of fact tone as if we were discussing the weather, a ball game, or some trivia fact.

Al
l the while I was in panic mode. I had researched enough to know how badly a cane hurt.

I couldn’t talk and I kept tryi
ng to think of ways to
get out
of this ass whipping—that he was describing in such detail. It all came back to one thing: I needed my mouth to speak. Shit! This was NOT good!

His voice cut through my chaotic thoughts.

“Well, I think that when I informed you of my sadistic nature, that you probably would have done well to listen.”

He got right in my face a
s if reading my mind and stated, “You crafty little bitch, you underestimated me didn’t you? As professional as you are you underestimated your opponent. Shame on you.” he wagged his finger in my face for emphasis—which only served to infuriate me.

I began to struggle ag
ainst the metal and he chuckled, “Someone is going to have ligature marks in the morning.”

He reached in his pocket and removed what appeared to be a switch blade and flicked it open.

***

Oh the look on that bitch’s face: when I flicked that blade open; priceless!

“Oh don’t worry……… I‘m not going to cut you……….deep
ly…..”

***

A sadistic chuckle ensued and he began tediously shredding my clothing from my body until I stood nude, in only thigh highs and heels.

***

I grabbed a handful of her hair pulling her into my mouth as I held the knife to her throat and kissed her trembling lips. She began to whimper and whine as tears streamed down her face
. I was so hard that it hurt and I was just getting started. There was no doubt that this girl—brought out the beast in me.

I seductively le
aned into her ear and whispered, “Now, I’m not going to lie, this is going to hurt.”

She immediately began to panic,
twisting, turning, frantically whining; due to her
speech restriction
.

I stood in front of her smiling
as I flexed the cane in my hands, prolonging the agony, just because I was going to make sure that she understood she was not going anywhere. She was going to move into my mansion, period………point…….blank!

***

That first strike hurt so bad
ly, that I pissed on myself a little bit and the
Master of the mansion
did not miss it; because he proclaimed, “This will be a discipline session that you will not soon forget!”

Over and over he struck me
with that cane, until something happened and I quit fighting. I just gave in to the pain. I don’t even remember his releasing me.

I remember him pulling me into his arms and my head falling against his sho
ulder. I remember being laid on a soft bed and gently and tenderly, being made love to, as orgasm, after orgasm, racked my endorphin drugged body.

I remember being bathed in a tub ful
l of suds that smelled of violet and vanilla; in a dimly candlelit bathtub.

I remember a Master who
washed my hair and bathed my body with great care—as if I were his child, his porcelain doll, or his wife.

I remember that my life changed that day
, and I will never be the same…

           Something happened to me that day. I guess that it would be equivalent to what the
vanilla
world (those not involved in the BDSM lifestyle) terms as
falling in love
. As ironic as it is, we bonded that day. I am not talking about some superficial bonding process—I am talking about a deep core connection. I have never had anyone who touched me in the very core of my soul; the way that the
Master of the mansion
did that night.

I have to go now
, my Master awaits me…