Carnal Slave (19 page)

Standing there like some dumb creature with clamps and chains hanging from her.

Master Damek stood and started down the stairs. “According to the file given us by her former boyfriend, he never had the slightest difficulty turning her on. I’ve found the same to be true.”

He stepped into her space and placed his large hand around her collared neck. “She tries to fight her sensual nature. She hates that her body responds as it does. My suspicion is she struggled with the same tenuous self-control before she came under Carnal’s umbrella. Of course the nature of her relationship with Carnal has her constantly off balance.”

“Which is what all owners want,” someone pointed out. “My concern is that she’ll turn out to be lacking in emotional fire. What owner wants a completely docile possession? The battle of wills keeps an owner on his toes and adds to his sexual pleasure.”

She’d be more valuable if she constantly fought? Despite the reality of how she’d be treated if she opposed everything done to her, she wished that was part of her makeup. Until her capture she’d convinced herself that taking the route of least resistance was how she was destined to go through life, but the stakes had never been this high.

“It’s your call, Damek,” Reno said. “Spell out her personality flaws and risk not getting bids that make it worth your effort, or include a little creativity in your sales pitch.”

Knowing Master Damek would in essence act as a salesman during the auction made her sick to her stomach. The clamps continued to gnaw at her, but they weren’t enough to completely distract her from what was going on around her. Besides, the burning sensation in her pussy was accomplishing something she hadn’t expected. It was one thing for her vagina to respond to stimulation a dildo but why was pain having the same result?

Maybe it wasn’t pain so much as the latest twist in how completely Master Damek controlled her.

This moment was what being a submissive was about?

This moment followed by the rest of her life.

Master Damek cupped her left breast and lifted it. She felt the sensation clear to her other breast and on her trapped labia. His other hand went between her legs, and he pushed the clamps aside. He unerringly found her flooding sex opening. Two fingers slipped in. He stared at her. She did the same.

“What have you discovered?” Reno asked.

Master Damek exited her sex and held up his slick fingers. “That’ll up her sale price.”

“Shit. It sure as hell will.”

Didn’t expect to respond that way, did you?
his expression said.
I knew.

“All right, gentlemen, fun’s over,” Master Damek said. “The blood flow has been cut off to strategic areas long enough. I’m going to take her back.”

Reno shook his head. “Not yet. Let’s see how she reacts to you pulling off the clamps.”

“This can’t be over,” someone else spoke up. “The money men are going to want to see how she handles a beating. We want a preview.”

“That’s right,” Reno muttered. “Besides, old buddy, I want to see how you react.”

“Yeah,” Master Damek said slowly, “I’m sure you do.”

“You know why don’t you?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Not going to happen as long as there are slaves around to do the job.”

Master Damek’s hands had been on and in her during the terse exchange. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that the other men were closely watching. Not long ago she might have died from embarrassment, but she was no longer that woman. She’d been taught that her body had value as a commodity. No one cared what she thought or felt. They’d ridicule her whether she held her head high or stared at the ground. Gape at her nude, restrained form.

To them she wasn’t human.

The fingers again invading her most intimate place moved in and out. Caught in her nerves’ grip, she thrust her hips at him. Her breathing wheezed.

“Hell yes she’s a hot bitch. Multi-orgasmic?”

Instead of answering, Master Damek continued assaulting her. His palm pressed against her clit, stimulating and challenging. She slipped out of the dark world her body reluctantly lived in and entered a place ruled by sensation. Pleasure and pain, her master had drummed into her, pleasure and pain. How right he was.

A harsh stinging sensation slammed into one breast and then the other. She gasped, then silently rode it out the rest of the pain by concentrating on what Master Damek was doing to her sex. She guessed he’d deliberately distracted her from having the nipple clamps removed and wondered if he expected her to thank him.

His other hand joined the one already between her legs.

“Ready? Now.”

A lightning blast of pain exploded over her sex, and she screamed.

“Guess she isn’t dead,” someone said, but she didn’t care. The pussy clamps were gone.

Done with her. Only hot, hard waves and her master’s control of her sex remained to claw at her nerves.

Lowering her lids so she could barely see the world, she went in search of the release that would make everything tolerable. Master’s finger-fucking was slow and measured without enough heat and pressure to send her into space. Alarmed, she rocked her pelvis toward him while opening her stance even more despite the restraints digging into her ankles.

“Fuck me, fuck me, oh Master, fuck me.”

“Hey!” someone shouted. “What the hell is she doing?”

The burning sensation flowed through her. Tears squeezed past her now tightly-closed eyes. Everything hurt. “Master, fuck me!”

He planted his free hand against her belly and pushed her back. “The hell I will.”

More fury, bleeding into the pain caused by renewed blood flow in her breasts and sex.

“Damn you,” she hissed. “God damn you.”

The slave stared glassy-eyed at him. She’d broken a fundamental rule by cursing him. In the wake of those words, the other trainers had grabbed and further restrained her. Now it was his responsibility to teach her the error of her ways. Slaves were governed by harsh rules. What probably never occurred to them was that those in charge of their behavior modification were governed by even stricter standards.

Her handcuffs and ankle restraints had been removed and she’d been secured to a punishment post driven into the ground. She’d fought the several pairs of hands which constituted another infraction—and pleased those charged with punishing defiant slaves.

A high chain kept her arms over her head while another set at ground level tethered her ankles. Red marks from the clamps still showed on her nipples and sex folds.

Reno had silently handed him a switch.

“Teach her the error of her ways,” Stoker commanded. Several other trainers echoed him, not that he needed the reminder. “The dog needs to be taught to never again bite her master.”

The slave hadn’t tried to hurt him, but in Carnal Incorporated’s eyes verbal defiance was just as bad. Thinking back, he couldn’t remember whether he’d spelled that out to her because of her passive nature. He might have been remiss.

He wondered if she now regretted letting anger get ahead of the instinct for survival. If she didn’t, she soon would.

“They’re right.” He brought home his point by switching her breasts. She gasped, shuddered, and tried to turn away. “A slave must never forget who owns her body and mind, even the words she speaks. Her owner has paid for the right to do whatever he wants to his property.”

He waited until she’d stopped staring at her breasts and returned her attention to him before whipping them again. He swung his arm to the left then the right, striking the same place each time. Her arms jerked and she repeatedly tried to free her legs. In due time he’d teach her that she had no choice but to cease struggling and surrender to her punishment, but first he’d let her expend useless energy.

For reasons he had no intention of examining, he wished he was anywhere except here.

As a new trainer, he’d lived for the moments when the sense of power and domination became all-consuming. That usually came whenever a subject opposed him in any way. It didn’t take much for his temper to explode. A slave-in-training was raw clay in his hands. She
would
bend to his will. Nothing less than total surrender was acceptable.

Now, with years as a Carnal employee under his belt, he understood that ropes, chains, gags, and whips didn’t automatically sever a slave from what she’d once been. Remnants of life as a free woman remained. He didn’t care whether those remnants were ever completely destroyed, just that she kept them buried.

When whip marks covered her breasts, he began planting horizontal lines over her belly.

At first she thrashed about like a roped mustang but soon weak shudders replaced her frantic movements each time a fresh blow landed. Her mouth—her cock-housing mouth—hung open, and if not for the restraints, her arms would have fallen to her sides. He wasn’t hitting her hard enough to break the skin, but proof of what he’d done to her would last for several days.

More to the point, he’d make sure she never forgot the reason for her public beating.

“Think of what I’m doing to you not as punishment but as necessary lessons.” Lowering his aim, he snaked the whip over her hips. “You’ll soon leave this facility and be turned over whoever has paid for you. It’s a signature moment in the life of a slave. A time of true surrender. I expect you to do that now. You’re no longer a separate human being. You’ve become an extension of me. I’m beating you because you cursed me and because it entertains me to do so.”

Even before the words were out of his mouth he knew that wasn’t the truth. The more he tried to distance himself from what she was experiencing, the harder it became. Her attention remained riveted on his arm while her expression said she didn’t fully comprehend what was being done to her. She shivered from head to foot and had started to drool. Her breath huffed as if she was running a race.

“You’re teasing her,” Reno said. “Stinging her when her sin calls for corporal punishment.”

“That’s right,” Stoker echoed. “She better the hell learn to keep her fucking mouth shut.”

The two were goading him—and maybe testing his self-control. Cursing was a serious infraction, but it wasn’t as if she’d attacked him or tried to escape. After reminding her where her sin stood in the greater scheme of Carnal life, he moved the whip to his left hand and shook his right.

“What the hell would you say if someone put a clothes pin on your balls?” he challenged Reno. “Even if it was some God damn dictator and you were a political prisoner, you’d react just the way she did.”

“You’re losing your edge,” Reno shot back. He reached for the whip but Damek jerked it away. “Getting soft in your old age.”

“The hell I am. I know what I’m doing.”

“Which is what? The last time you and I worked together, I had to keep you from killing a slave. What the hell was that one’s crime? Whatever it was, you exploded. Now, even with all of us watching and judging, you’re giving this slave love taps.”

Love taps. Not in this lifetime.

He was aware of other eyes on him but right now only Reno’s mattered. Was this why Reno had come to the training facility as far in advance of the auction as he had? He wanted to be there in case his friend’s temper blew.

Wasn’t going to happen, was it? Hell no. He was in control. Determined to prove his point, he transferred the whip back into his dominant hand.

“Here’s a piece of advice, slave. Most owners get off on having a piece of meat that occasionally puts up a fight. The whole struggle thing can be a hell of a turn-on. That said, she better not win. If she does—if she angers him—he’ll punish her. Like this.”

Taking care to strike the fleshiest part of her thigh, he laid into her. His arm burned and his world reddened.

“Master, please!”

“What’s that I hear?” He began whipping her other thigh. “Done with cursing, are you?”

“Yes Master, oh yes!”

An inner voice warned him that he’d gone as far as he needed to. She’d been taught her lesson. His co-workers would be satisfied. However, a deep-rooted and less civilized voice spoke of power. He’d buried the unloved boy he’d been a lifetime ago. A man who needed to control had emerged.

“You’re going to suffer for me.” He switched both thighs in rapid succession. “And in the suffering, you’ll understand in the deepest way possible what you’ve lost.”

He was strong. Powerful. Man ruling slave. Cutting her into emotional shreds in ways she’d never recover from.

Back and forth. Left thigh, right. Moving to her side and striking what he could reach of her ass. Stepping to the other side and attacking her there.

“Huh, ah, oh—ah. Can’t—huh, I can’t…”

Something about her silence got through to him. He continued working her but not with his earlier energy. Much as he wanted to stay in that place where she existed only as a barely human creature, he no longer could. The longer he studied her twitching, overloaded body the more he understood what she was experiencing.

He’d hurt her today, actually broken skin twice. Now as he came down from wherever the hell he’d been, the whip again repeatedly kissed her. He kept up a pace that wouldn’t allow her a moment of recovery.

“Bury yourself in sensation, slave. Being punished lets you know you’re alive. If you ever stop feeling pain, you might as well be dead—except you’re still be a slave. Kept alive because your owner wants to use you. To degrade you. He loves power. Never forget that at the core of what makes a man want to own another human being is the need to feel strong. To rule.”

She rocked from side to side. Her restrained body continued its instinctive battle, but she was looking at him in a way that told her she was holding onto his every word. Trying to come back to sanity.

“That’s the only thing you need to understand, slave. That your master will do whatever he wants to teach his slave that he’s the one in control.”

Deciding he’d focused on her lower body long enough, he turned his attention to her up thrust arms. He made sure the whip didn’t strike her face or throat. He also held back so she’d feel sensation, not pain.

“This is constant.” He fell into a rapid but light rhythm. “Your body under never-ending assault. It doesn’t know how to deal what’s happening to it, or respond. Every second is about survival, every minute about endurance, each hour about what your master demands.”