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Part 6
Two weeks after that I was completely healed, even the scars on my back had fresh and delicate pink skin growing. In light of that, I hesitantly approached my master.
“Master?” I wondered as he finished his coffee on one rare Sunday he didn’t have work. He smiled gently at me, encouraging me to continue. I noticed, after our little debacle, that our paradigm had shifted. No longer did he cringe from me calling him Master, he encouraged it, required it. I don’t know if it was a psychological response to my disobedience, requiring him to take a more dominant role or simply that it was the more natural order. Whatever it was, I certainly was more comfortable with him as Master than David, the subservience was too far ingrained.
“I am well healed and fit and I was hoping to return to classes tomorrow.” I asked quietly, I wouldn’t have said anything at all but the college had a strict attendance policy and another absence would put me over, even then, it would not prompt me to such liberty but I didn’t want him to have wasted the tuition. He looked appraisingly at me and sipped at the muddy water I’d refilled his mug with. It didn’t look like he was making a decision so much as weighing his thoughts. Finally, he spoke.
“Of course you can.” he assured me and put his mug back on the table with a light clink. He paused, so as to say he was moving onto a separate subject entirely, “I want us to play in the basement today.” I knew he had a dungeon of sorts in the basement, he went down there occasionally for supplies but he’d never brought me down or even alluded to it.
“Am I to be punished, Master?” I wondered as politely and innocently as I could.
“Not a punishment pet, just pleasure, I swear it.” he smiled. I smiled back, reassured and followed him down to where I hadn’t been before.
It was nice. Functional to be sure and very obviously exactly what it was named but nice nonetheless. Clean, brightly lit, with a variety of items that fair shocked me. It was a large rectangular room with cold stone floors and walls shined to a near polish. One wall was covered with hooks and shelves holding a vast array of implements of both pain and pleasure. Another wall had anchors of all shapes, sizes and at every height imaginable. A couple movable tables and benches littered the floor and there was a small bed in the corner along with several trunks. I shivered but it wasn’t fear, as I had expected, I was excited. I trusted him, if he said we were here for pleasure, I could well imagine how pleasurable it could be.
He noticed the slight trembling and took me in his arms.
“Are you okay, pet?” he wondered kindly smoothing my hair.
“I’m excited, Master.” I admitted and he smiled kindly.
“We will take it easy today, just an introduction.” he promised. He took my hand and lead me over to a particularly movable table. He kissed me hard and guided my ass to the very edge and when he leaned back to draw breath he pushed me down to lie half off the table. He pulled a belt over my waist and cinched it tight to the table, almost too tight. Two straps went cross-wise over my chest, leaving the breasts perfectly exposed. Two almost separate boards at my shoulders were where my arms were strapped, at the end was a small leather pouch for my hands, as if I could have done anything with them. One strap went at my neck, thankfully not that tight. He left my head then and went down to my legs. I watched him curiously, the edge of the table was digging into the middle of my ass where the rest hung off the edge. He operated a lever right under my ass and two boards sprang up and out like stirrups but solid. Guided by the level of discomfort displayed on my face, he moved the boards out and up more until I whimpered, then he retracted a bit, locked the boards and strapped my legs in place. Completely immobile, I just watched and waited.
“I’m going to take most of your senses, I just want you to feel.” he whispered into my ear before producing a blindfold, earplugs and muffs and a nose plug. Gently he put all in its place until I was in darkness and silence, an ocean of nothing, not even the familiar spicy smell I associated with my Master. He tightened one last strap over my forehead and vanished from my knowledge.
My whole self was keyed up and on edge, waiting, waiting. His finger brushed my collarbone and I sighed. A gentle touch to my toe, a caress of my calf, a stroke of my stomach, a pat on my shoulder; he was driving me mad. Suddenly, a vibration hit my very wide and exposed pussy. I gasped but it came out a low moan. Unlike the little touches, this vibration didn’t go away, in fact once it was lined up to my vagina it began to enter. I was so ready it slid in without hesitation. I gripped it desperately with my muscles and it stayed pulsing gently. I enjoyed it but it certainly wasn’t enough to push me over any cliff. Then those teasing fingers were back tracing unknowable patterns on my skin. Just when I might have begun to be bored, the vibrations in my vagina began to move, out and in, out and in very slow but gaining in speed, out and in out an in, and then the vibrations knocked up a level, outandinoutandin, and the vibration kicked up a few dozen levels and there was something new pressing on my clit. I was moaning, loud and true and I hadn’t noticed the fingers had vanished until . . .
A blinding pain cut through my temporary bliss and I screamed. It didn’t reoccur, maybe my reaction had convinced him to start lighter. I was back in riding the high in a moment and just as the peak hit me and everything tensed, there was another blinding searing pain on the inside of my thigh. It couldn’t stop the high and I rode the wave down only vaguely aware I hurt. The, I assumed it was a fucking machine, slowed down for a moment to give me time to catch my breath but it started up in barely a moment, harder and faster than it had before. Inandoutinandout until I peaked again, then a third and fourth time in rapid succession since the machine didn’t slow down again. Then, it took a turn, we had reached the junction where pleasure was becoming painful, I was breathing hard, throat sore from screaming my delight, and the machine was cooling off again, I assumed we were done. I was wrong. Without, even as much time as I got the first time the machine was off again, harder and faster even, I didn’t think it could have gotten harder or faster. My vagina hurt from the rapid thrusting and my clit was so supersensitive tears were beginning to soak my blindfold from it being touched. Another climax rocked my body and I began to beg for the end. Finally, the machine slowed and stopped and was removed and I cried in relief. Until something very cold and very large touched my oversensitive vagina.
“No, please Master no more.” I sobbed but my pleas were ignored. The machine was lined up and turned on and I screamed as the giant cold thing slid into my overused pussy. It was so unimaginably huge it was only going in slowly, with difficulty even in my over slicked canal. Finally, it was all in and the vibrations started. I cried. It wasn’t even remotely pleasurable anymore. I struggled uselessly against the bonds and tried to make my muscles expel it but it was a loosing battle and before long the strokes began anew. In and out, in and out, in and out in and out inandoutinandout, I had long since lost my voice from screaming then the vibrations kicked up to high and a small prong vibrated at my clit. I felt like if it fell off I would be so happy. Then the flogger hit skin.
“Please, Master, you promised, what have I done? I’m sorry.” I cried, it was garbled but understandable. The cry was ignored and the flogger continued to fall. It was many tailed but a firm one and it didn’t fall just the once, it hit over and over again in rapid succession until my consciousness gladly fled from over stimulation.
I woke to the smell of ammonia from smelling salts. Gently, my Master removed the strap from my forehead and rubbed out the mark from my straining against it. The one at my neck was next and I sobbed as his fingers brushed over a welt. The noseplugs came next and I was too distraught to notice the smell. The earmuffs and plugs went next and then the blindfold and I was looking, slightly accusingly, up at the greasy man from Chrome. I gasped and struggled a bit.
“Master?” I wondered, searching as much as my prone position would allow.
“Shh, slave, calm down, I am your Master now.” he assured me, I was far from assured.
“No, Master David!” I called as he released my arms and chest. It allowed me to sit up most of the way and look between my legs at the most painful sight I had witnessed. My Master, the man I loved and thought loved me was being pleasured, thoroughly it seemed, by three of the silicone sisters. One was vigorously deepthroating his cock, one was massaging his neck and shoulders and the last straddled his lap and laving his nipples. He had his head thrown back as ecstasy overtook him and he breathed deep. I threw myself back on the table with a gut-wrenching sob as the man silently unfastened the rest of the belts.
“I’m afraid, girl, he’s sold you to me for a few of my girls, turns out eight is just too many, and I love a challenge. He helped me to stand and I tried to run but only one step brought me to the ground hard, sobbing in pain both emotional and physical.
“Now there, none of that.” he tsked and whisked me off, up the stairs and into the trunk of his car with drugs coursing my veins without even a moment’s pause.
I woke, dazed and confused with a killer headache, sitting propped against a stone wall on a stone floor. My wrists were chained to opposite ends of a bar above me and there was a steel band around my neck. I knew better than to struggle; my Master would let me out when he was good and ready and not a moment before. The truth hit me like a fist to the gut and I would have doubled over in pain if my wrists were free. My Master sold me to the greasy-souled club owner. My Master sold me. Had he been planning it or was this in response to my request to return to school? My vagina and skin still hurt from the fucking and the flogger, had that been planned or had his fury at my betrayal overwhelmed him? Before I might have dismissed the idea, he would never hit me in anger, then again, he would never sell me either. Could I be mistaken, was this forced? The pleasure on his face didn’t look forced. Why would he sell me? On and on my mind spiraled into a black despair, and just when I thought I would just be left there to suffer, the man showed up.
“Now little one, do you understand your place, can you tell me what I want to hear?” he wondered.
“I am a free-woman, you have no right to hold me here.” I recited coldly, it was technically true, David had said I was free to come and go as I pleased.
“No bitch, you are nothing, you are property, a slave, fuckmeat.” he said, not cruelly, just matter-of-fact.
“I am a free-woman, you have no right to hold me here.” I repeated, in the same flat tone.
“Alright then, bitch, tell me when you change your mind.” he sighed. He did not say ‘if’ and I felt a stab of fear as he bent down and clipped a chain to my ankles, which I just noticed were shackled together, and drew the other end through a loop and then clipped it to my collar. With a crank of a lever, my arms began to rise and me with it, I scrambled to stand but the chain wouldn’t let me stand straight I was left, bent over completely as my hands continued to rise. Finally, it stopped and he left, closing the door behind him before I got a glimpse of the dimensions of the room. I didn’t know until then and I’m not sure if he knew or just guessed or if it even mattered, but I am claustrophobic. Terrified of being shut into a small space and not just shut in, because if you’re shut in you can just open the door, I was terrified of being locked in. The only reason I wasn’t screaming at the moment was that I didn’t actually know how small the room was. Don’t misunderstand, my phobia was hardly that reasonable and a considerable part of me wanted to start screaming but the stubborn side wouldn’t let it. He wanted to break me. He wanted me to beg and plead and cry. I wouldn’t. Not until the last grain of sense had left my body. Of course, I didn’t really take into account the crucifixion. I had already figured out what the eventuality of my position was. My legs would give out, sooner or later, they would cramp then just give. You see, the chain forced me to either crouch or bend, the former restful for my aching back and the latter for my acing legs, but given an excess of time, both would give and I would be hanging from my arms, which would slowly compress my chest and suffocate me, the very definition of crucifixion.
I lost track of time completely down there. A second lasted for an eternity, a minute was longer than I could track. At first, I tried to keep count but as my legs and back started to burn and my eyes began to adjust, I lost track. It was apparent they were prepared to keep me there as long as it took, there was an IV in my arm keeping me hydrated and fed I assumed. I heard things down there, scuttling, snuffling, awful sounds I can’t even describe. Sometimes I imagined that something had brushed past me. It could have been real but I told myself firmly it was my imagination. Then I saw the walls. My eyes had adjusted just enough to make out where the floor seemed to end and the wall began. They moved a lot, and I knew that was all in my head, I couldn’t actually see the walls at all but my phobia became to overcome my sense and my stubbornness and the latter two eroded. I tried to scream, but I wasn’t getting enough air. I settled into a mantra of almost incoherent pleading. That grew more desperate when the walls got closer and quieted when the moved back a bit. My legs gave out completely and I hung from the ceiling by my wrists. My mouth was still forming those pleading words but I wasn’t getting enough air to say anything. Just when I expected my ticket punched, he came back.
I hadn’t heard any lock open but he opened the door the light rushed in and blinded me. He undid the fastenings on my wrists and lowered me to the ground gently so he could undo the rest of them. He pulled me out into a brightly lit, almost surgical room, and looked at me as my breathing returned to normal.
“Are you ready to say and do what I want?” he asked quietly. I nodded and sobbed and kissed his feet. He kicked me off him and growled, “Then say it.”
“I am your slave.” I cried, nearing the very fringes of my sanity.
“Who am I?”
“Master.” he nodded and pulled his cock from his pants.
“I think you know what to do.” he motioned his cock coldly. I took it into my mouth, filled with self-disgust and loathing, and gave him what might have been the best blow-job he’d ever had. He certainly had no complaints and he pumped into my throat and loosed his load. I swallowed it all and gently laved his cock until it was clean then held it in my mouth waiting for the next order. He chuckled, pushed me off his cock and stuffed it back in his pants.
“I’m glad you are a quick learner.” he snapped his fingers and one of the silicone sisters came at his call, “Take her, clean her and get rid of all that troublesome hair, laser after so we don’t have to do this again, then get her suited up and prime the pumps, I’ll check back in an hour. You’re going to behave for my slave.” it wasn’t a question and he left. That was it, it seems like such a foolish thing to be the last straw but it was. My Master who I loved and who I thought loved me sold me to a kidnapper who had so easily broken my defenses and now I was to permanently loose all of my gorgeous red hair. Maybe it was the permanence that hit me, everything thus far could be undone, but laser hair removal was final.
I followed the slave docily into the shower room and she shaved every inch of my body, excepting my eyebrows, although she trimmed them to bare lines. She took a powerful shower head and instructed me to soap myself then sprayed me down, and again just for good measure. Then she dried me and took the laser to every inch, bald, everywhere, permanently. That’s when it happened, the break, that was it. Oddly, she then put her mouth to my breasts and sucked hard, stopping after barely a moment. When she went to get several leather goods I didn’t even notice, I didn’t even fidget. Over my head went a leather hood that she tightened with laces at the back to press hard against my skin. It was open at the eyes, nose, although there were inserts and mouth, closed at the ears but I could still hear. Once it was tightened properly it was locked in the back to the collar that was still about my throat. Overtop went a head harness with a large bit gag, like a pony harness. It was tightened and closed my teeth and lips forcibly against the bit. It locked again in the back and the lock that held my hood on was closed finally. My wrists were enclosed in steel cuffs with soft lining and they were locked to each side of my collar and my feet were cuffed to either end of a four foot spreader bar. Next came a black marker to my chest and she moved me to the mirror so I could see it.
MILKSACKS
She moved the marker to my mound then showed me:
FIST HOLDER
She went around the back and scrawled across my shoulder blades:
WHIPPING POST
Then over my ass cheeks:
FUCK HOLE
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I saw the hard black lines and he came back just in time to see me cry.
“Beautifully done, slave.” he smiled at the girl who bowed low and raced out, “Now Bitch, you will understand your place by the end of the night.” he clipped a leash to my collar and tugged just as my will reasserted itself. Understand my place indeed! I was a freewoman! I struggled a bit but I was too far bound to do much and he smiled at my struggles, “Now then, you’ll entertain my costumers in however they want and I suggest you enjoy yourself tonight, it will be your last opportunity to do so for a long time.” He led me up the stairs by the leash. It was only then I noticed my breasts were larger than usual. I reflected back to the slave sucking on them and noticed they were leaking, horrified I glanced up at the man who grinned, seemingly waiting for me to put two and two together. I was lactating. Apparently, glucose and water weren’t the only things in that IV.
I can’t even describe the horrors that night saw on my flesh. The marked labels on my flesh were taken as wrote and treated as such. I was lucky no one had a whip or cane that night or I might have bled to death. As it was my pussy had never had a fist and there was tearing and blood, my breasts had never produced milk and individuals were not gentle with their collection, and even less once the tap dried so to speak.
They took me back to the dungeon once I collapsed taking two men, one fisting one fucking down with me. I was in bad shape by the time they began seeing to me, certainly, in no shape to entertain the next night, much to the greasy man’s fury. I was cared for gently that day but as night drew closer, the greasy man formed a plan. He wasn’t willing to let my suffering effect his cash flow so he developed a plan.
“Lets get a hood and paint her.” he growled at two of the sisters. They snapped too immediately and another hood was fit over my face, this one had a breathing apparatus because there was no holes for me to breath through and it was airtight. They posed me then, with my legs far apart and my body bent at the waist, displaying my cunt and asshole. My arms were put behind my head as if displaying my breasts which were hanging low due to their new weight. I then felt the brushes as a tar-like substance was applied liberally to my body. It wasn’t simple paint, or even anything like liquid latex. I still don’t know exactly what it was but it hardened like rock. The only parts of my body left uncovered were my pussy and asshole. It was another dreadful night but not as bad as any before. I wasn’t able or required to participate, I couldn’t move and the coating didn’t allow for stretching so they put a vibrator in my pussy so no one would shove their fist in me and damage me. I was just ass-fucked all night, and after the first couple, it was nothing. Since I couldn’t let myself be introspective and still hang onto my sanity, I began to listen to what was going on around me, luckily the hood was not sound-proof at all
“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, I hope everyone is enjoying our statue-ass.” he said, forcing the joke. Some people laughed politely but mostly I heard crickets. I grinned in my head; “The sisters have a fantastic show planned for you tonight. The first eight to the sales desk with the normal fee will be included in the show and be able to take your own sister to the dungeon for an hour afterward.” there was a little movement. I wondered how these people would feel if they knew they were using and abusing genetically formulated shells. I wondered how people could possibly enjoy doing anything to those creatures that probably have no reaction to it. I wondered if the greasy man orders them to give certain responses. I wondered if they could have orgasms, or if their orgasms were anything more than biological. I wondered how much it cost for an hour with one of the eight silicone sisters. Then I stopped wondering. What might have been the last living spark in my mind ignited a fire that had me struggling against the rock paint. Eight! How could there still be eight sisters? They sold three to my master! I began to feel lightheaded, the adrenaline that rushed into my system on that discovery was forcing my heart to pump faster but the breathing apparatus was not designed to speed up and slow down. I forced myself to calm down and think carefully before I passed out.
I was right all along. My master would never sell me; he loved me. I flashed back to the dungeon when I was taken. It had looked then as if he was slumped in ecstasy, but it could just as easily been unconsciousness. I flicked mercilessly through the knowns and unknowns in my mind. He would never let his slaves perform every night and anyway he wasn’t interested in mindless slavery, or even forced slavery. He hadn’t touched me for weeks because he wasn’t sure I was willing. Then my mind paused and an evil voice whispered, Are you sure? What if I was wrong? What if Mort was wrong? What if he had been looking to get rid of me since day one? But that chain of logic snapped easily. If he wanted to be rid of me he wouldn’t have come after me, he would have left me to the tender mercies of Chrome and its manager. My mind flashed to that night and to the revelation the week later when I was well enough to stand. The runes on my back, property and love. He would never sell me.
At peace with this, my mind worked furiously to plan. David hadn’t sold me; he was in danger. He hadn’t sold me so I was stolen and David wouldn’t have willingly let that happen. He was there, presumably unconscious, when I left so he either was left, under guard, or killed. My mind shied away from the later, I wouldn’t survive if they’d killed him, it was bad enough thinking he didn’t want me. They could have surprised him and taken him down before he knew who they were but I doubted that. Even were it the case, David was smart enough to figure out who was likeliest to do it and they probably posted my arrival on their website. All that was left was he was under guard at his own house or he was in the dungeon here. There is no way they would leave him in his familiar surroundings, give him the chance to retaliate or escape. He was here. My heart soared. I would find him and I would kill anyone that got in my way.
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