Her Submission (20 page)

They were once again in the room that spoke of male and masculinity. She was his tethered sex slave. He loomed over her, in charge.

Trembling, she turned and looked up at him. He needed a shave. “What must I learn, Master?”

Chapter twelve

What must I learn?
To the best of his recollection, none of his previous trainees had asked him that, especially so early in their lessons. Granted, Carnal rules stipulated that new captives not be allowed to speak until their transformation had begun, but he still believed this one was unique. He also didn’t think that plugging her rear hole and calling her a pony had been wholly responsible.

Within a few minutes of her question, he’d gone back into the kitchen for some cereal and had fed her one piece at a time. Keeping her on her hands and knees with the switch in her had undoubtedly reminded her of her place in his world. Reminded him as well. When, after toying with it for a while, he’d drawn the switch out of her, she’d immediately thanked him. She’d obviously hated kissing the moist base he pressed against her lips, but she’d done it.

Now as she stood beside him while he adjusted the water’s temperature in the downstairs shower, he tried to assess where she was on her journey to submission. It wasn’t going to be a smooth transformation but neither did he anticipate the kind of resistance he’d gotten from some of the subjects who’d come before her.

Subject or something more? Beyond a simple slave?

“
Wait,” he warned when she started to step into the shower. “We’re doing this my way. Hold out your hands.”

She hesitated which was long enough for him to get the unspoken message. She didn’t trust him.

When would she? Why did it matter?

“
Your body belongs to me.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew a key, and unfastened the cuff around her left hand. Then he spun her away from him and drew her arms behind her. She tensed but didn’t resist when he re-cuffed her hands. The hobbles were still around her ankles, and he had no intention of taking off the collar.

He pushed her into the shower and positioned her under the spray. As water streamed over her hair, she tried to look out from behind the wet curtain at him. He pulled off his shirt then hesitated. Once he got rid of his jeans, she’d see the still-healing scars which he’d intended to put off for a few more days.

To hell with it!

Naked, he stepped into the small shower and swiped her hair back from her face. Water sluiced over and between her breasts, flowed over her belly, disappeared between her legs. His cock responded.

He wetted the washcloth he’d brought in with him and rubbed soap over it. Maybe that, in part, was why he’d taken her, because he’d known it would take pressing against a naked female to remind his cock of what it was capable of.

As for other reasons—they had too much to do with solitude.

She stared at the thick spear jutting at her.

“
That represents a great deal of what our relationship’s about.”
But not all.
 

Was that a nod? He couldn’t be sure.

Done with trying to decipher her thoughts, he concentrated on washing every inch of her well-toned body. After that furtive look at his erection, she stared at the shower wall. Did she really think she could divorce herself from what he was doing to her simply by not looking at him?

He was her worst nightmare and, depending on a lot of things, he might become her most treasured reality.

With that possibility in mind, he pushed her still-soapy body into a corner and slipped the washcloth between her legs. She clamped them together.

“
No,” he warned. “Shit, you know better.”

Thinking to keep her off balance, he adjusted the spray so it was concentrated on the top of her head. Her hair covered her face, blinding her. He left her to try to get enough air in her lungs and turned his attention to something he could practically do in his sleep.

He’d often demanded that slaves describe what being sexually aroused felt like but even when they spilled everything, he knew he’d never be able to truly get inside their minds and bodies. One thing he was sure of, repeatedly rubbing her pussy would get to this one. Break her down.

Help her understand the meaning of Master.

It didn’t happen at first but little by little she relaxed. Her knees occasionally buckled forcing her to struggle to regain her balance. She no longer tried to shield her pussy from him. In fact, she’d opened herself to him. The back of her head now rested on the shower wall, her mouth sagged, and her breathing was ragged. When she pushed her pelvis at him, he planted his free hand over her belly and shoved. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her surrender, he wanted to make clear who was in charge.

For both of them.

She kept trying to look down at herself. When she wasn’t doing that, she lifted her head. With that much water plastering her hair to her face she couldn’t see much.

That was fine with him. Her attention should be fixed on something else.

He’d started giving her pussy a brisk rubbing because he wanted her to be as sensitive as possible there. Going by her body language, he’d reached his goal. Switching tactics, he let up on the pressure until the soft terrycloth barely grazed her swollen labia. He occasionally subjected her clit to a bit of attention but was careful to keep things brief there. He wanted her on-edge and hungry. As for granting her satisfaction, well, he hadn’t made up his mind about that.

When most of the suds were down the drain, he left her to pant and frown while he re-soaped the cloth. Instead of returning to what he’d been doing, however, he coated her breasts. Until now he hadn’t treated them to anything except abuse. After an initial whimper and a straightening of her spine, she sagged again. He concentrated on giving each breast equal attention. Just thinking about what it must feel like for her got him all hot and bothered again. He closed his fingers around his cock.

Good. So damn good. Like coming back to life.

The amount of time they’d spent in the shower didn’t matter until the hot water started to run out. Thinking to turn the handle all the way to H, he let go of himself. That was all it took to remind himself that right now was about turning her into something new, not treating himself to a hand job. Grunting, he ran his hand between her legs, swept aside her sex lips, and slid his middle finger into her. Continuing to stimulate her breasts at the same time took concentration but he was used to this particular maneuver. Most of the time he’d first gotten a slave into the
mood
via a liberal dose of pain but there wasn’t anything wrong with improvising.

With treating her differently.  

“
Feels good, doesn’t it? Good and a little scary. Your master can do anything he wants which means you don’t dare trust him, but you don’t want him to stop. Confused, you tell yourself you’ll live in the moment, take what pleasure you can.”

“
It—it’s getting cold.”

She was right. Fortunately for him, the spray was directed at her. Figuring goose bumps were her problem, he dropped the washcloth and fastened thumb and forefinger around her right nipple. He pulled down.

“
Master?”

“
Master what? You think I’m going to tell you what I have in mind? Ain’t gonna happen.”

He let up the pressure, even lightly massaged the trapped nub while pumping her hole.

“
Not fair,” she hissed. “Damn it, not fair.”

Of course it wasn’t. That had never been his intention. He stopped his assault on her sex long enough to turn off the water and then rammed his victim—victim, now there was an interesting word—into the corner. He stopped all pretense at arousal and went straight for assault. By turn he grabbed one breast and then the other, flattening them against her chest wall while kneading the full, rich mounds. When the hand between her legs threatened to cramp, he backed off but continued his attack on her pussy.

Let her experience forced sexual awakening.

Make her his.

“
You can’t, you can’t,” she chanted when they both knew he could and would and was. Her legs gave up the fight and she would have fallen if not for him. He was getting cold—and hungry for something he’d nearly forgotten he needed.

Make her pay for everything that had gone wrong in his world. Make her experience the depth of helplessness as he had. Finger-fuck her into unconsciousness if necessary. Take her somewhere she’d never been.

“
Master, oh, Master!”

She shuddered. The nearly graceful spasms increased. Her head thrashed and the muscles in her shoulders and arms knotted as she strained to free her hands. Staying with her, keeping her in hell/heaven, he watched as she climaxed. When she started to come down, he redoubled his attack and sent her to a higher level. She sounded as if she was dying, her muscles jumped and trembled.                         
 
   

Because he understood women’s bodies so well, he knew the exact moment she’d reached her limit. Her sex might continue to clench but she no longer felt anything. She wasn’t unconscious so much as emotionally overloaded. Responsibility for the helpless creature kicked in, prompting him to hoist her onto his shoulder and step out of the shower. He’d covered only a few feet when his damaged leg protested. Surrendering to the pain, he put her down and pointed at the stairs. “Up, now,” he commanded.

She gave him a drunken look. Cursing, he returned to the bathroom for the cuffs key and freed her legs.

“
Up,” he repeated.”

Saying nothing, she obeyed. He followed, not once taking his gaze off his slave’s body. “Onto the bed,” he commanded.

Shaking with cold and things she probably couldn’t define, she complied and stared up at him. He left her long enough to return to go into his private bathroom for a couple of towels. After throwing one over her, he dried himself. She curled onto her side and tried to burrow into the spread.

“
You…” She swallowed. “You made me…”

“
Climax? Yeah, I did. It won’t be the last time.”

A mix of dread and anticipation passed over her. Her attention settled on his erection. Now that he was dry, he debated doing the same to her but didn’t. Instead of getting dressed, he spun her around so her back was to him and unfastened one wrist cuff.

“
You’re my servant, not the other way around,” he informed her. “Get dry.”

The cuffs still dangled from her right wrist and got in the way as she sat up and started doing as he’d commanded beginning with her face. When she reached her waist, she slid off the bed and rubbed her hips, buttocks, and legs. He noted that she didn’t reach between her legs undoubtedly because she was too sensitive there. Finally she wrapped the towel around her hair. Her hands fluttered over her naked body.

“
Master?”

“
What?”

She stared at the floor. “May I speak?”

“
It depends on what you say.”

“
I—thank you.”

He hadn’t expected that. Slaves-in-training went to great lengths trying to hide how deeply climaxing impacted them. Instead of acknowledging how good coming felt they blamed him and the other trainers.

“
For what? Giving you a shower?”

Her mouth started working, giving rise to the suspicion that she was debating whether to agree with him.  He wasn’t she he wanted the communication to continue but he’d lived with silence for so long.

“
Not just that.” Her attention left the floor and slowly moved up his legs. That was something else he seldom saw in a slave. Most times they did everything they could not to acknowledge a trainer’s existence.

Instead of staring at his cock, her gaze locked on his scarred leg. He half believed she could see through the layers to the metal rods that would be part of him for as long as he lived. How would she react if she knew he’d nearly bled to death?

“
Don’t,” he warned. “That’s none of your concern.”

“
But—“

“
I’m not going to say it again. My scars are my business, not yours. What, slave, were you going to thank me for?”    

#

Tearing her attention off the still-red proof of several surgeries, Kaci concentrated on Master’s cock. She’d already grown accustomed to being naked while he remained fully clothed so seeing him in the same condition was something new she had to get used to. His nudity might not have made as much as an impact if she hadn’t recently survived the most out-of-control climax of her life. Just thinking of how his hands had commanded her helpless body kicked up her heart rate. If she relived the relentless race to the cliff he’d forced her over, she might find herself there again.

The damp leather collar he’d locked her into remained in place and it would be too easy for him to refasten the cuffs. Proof of his mastery touched not just her flesh but had seeped deep into her.

Was changing her.

“
You made me come,” she whispered still focused on his dark erection. “You—you knew how to make—I had no control…”

“
Get used to it.”

Get used to it.
But why would he concentrate on her sexual surrender when his sexual needs hadn’t been met?

“
I don’t know if I can. I never—I’ve had fantasies but they never…” Damn it, what was so hard about expressing gratitude?

Because
this
was real. Today wasn’t some crazy example of her imagination gone wild. Because of him, her existence had changed at the most fundamental level.

“
What kind of fantasies?” he demanded.

“
Nothing.” Why had she said anything? “I didn’t mean—“

“
Yes you did. Tell me about them.”

“
It was crazy stuff. Just—I don’t know.”

“
The hell you don’t. You sometimes turned to them to satisfy your sexual needs, the kind of needs I dealt with when I made you climax.”