Enslaved (9 page)

“Come on. Up you go. It’s time for your training session. But first, your punishment.”

“Put this on.” Sam held out the black leather corset, unhooked and unlaced. Rae stared at it as if she’d never seen one before. He’d had her remove the towel and her hair hung wet and loose to her shoulders. She took the corset uncertainly and held it in her hands, her expression one of confusion and distaste.

“Raise your arms. I’ll put it on you.” He dared her with his eyes to refuse. As she handed back the corset, she met his gaze but then looked away. Slowly she lifted her arms. He secured the corset around her narrow torso, forcing her full breasts up over the top. He hooked it along her side, cinching in her already slender waist. He pulled the leather laces in the back, tightening it still further.

“I can barely breathe,” Rae gasped.

“Did I ask you a question?” Sam replied tersely.

“No…Sir,” she muttered, barely bothering to disguise her frustration.

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m beginning to think you like to be punished, Rae. How else do we explain your constant breaking of the most basic rules? Perhaps a full day with a ball gag in your mouth will remind you of the very simple rule of keeping your mouth shut, hmm?” She didn’t answer, but he recognized the question could be interpreted as rhetorical and let it pass.

He moved in front of her and pointed toward the five-inch heels he’d set down by her feet. “Step into these,” he ordered. He watched as she eyed the stilettos dubiously before inserting her pretty feet into them. They were a perfect fit, forcing her into a Barbie Doll arch and accentuating the line of her long, lovely legs. She tottered slightly but managed to find her balance.

He let his eyes travel slowly up her body, lingering hungrily on the bare cunt, gliding over the soft, black leather that hugged her lithe curves, resting on the creamy white breasts jutting over the top of the bustier, the dark pink nipples perking invitingly toward him.

“You look like a perfect whore,” he commented, pleased and amused as the color stained her cheeks and throat. He’d never seen her blush during their daily interactions, but since she’d come to his dungeon, she seemed to blush as easily as a schoolgirl.

“So, whore,” he continued, savoring his power. “Your punishment this morning is to stand between these two walls.” He led her to a corner of the dungeon. Just beside her was a stool, upon which sat an egg timer. “You will keep your nose pressed in the corner, like so.” He directed her head until her nose touched the seam of the adjoining walls, “and your hands up like this.” He lifted her arms, pressing her palms flat against the walls on either side of her head.

“Spread your legs wide.” He kicked lightly at her left ankle with his bare foot, and then at her right until he was satisfied with her stance. “Now, stick out your ass and, no matter what I do to you, you better maintain your position, nose and palms against the wall, ass out.”

He reached for the timer and turned the dial to five minutes. It began to tick off the seconds. It was, he knew, in her line of vision. “Your punishment lasts only until the timer rings. But if you fuck up,” he warned her, “we start over, got it?”

“Oh, Sam! I—”

Sam reached for the back of her neck and gripped hard. “I said, got it? That’s a yes or no question, Rae.” He squeezed tighter.

“Yes…Sir,” she said in a tiny voice. He let her go and stepped back, stroking his cock through the thin fabric of his pajamas as he admired the full round globes of her small but perfect ass beneath the tight leather binding of the corset.

Soon he would have her at his feet, his cock stuffed down that pretty throat. But not yet…she hadn’t earned it yet. Instead he went to the toy cabinet and returned with a riding crop, its long rectangle of red leather pretty against her pale skin. He smacked her right ass cheek lightly, watching the supple flesh jiggle in response. She kept her position. He smacked the other cheek, quite a bit harder. She gasped but still stayed in place. Good girl.

He licked his right index finger and reached between her legs, pressing the digit into her softness. She grunted and shuddered but, to her credit, still kept her palms pressed flat, her nose to the wall. He moved his finger inside her, savoring the hot clamp of muscle and the moistening flesh. She could protest all she liked—her cunt didn’t lie.

He smiled cruelly and pulled his finger from her, reaching to cup her mons from behind. He pushed his palm against her, moving in a slow, grinding circle over her spread pussy. He stepped closer, reaching around her to find and roll a nipple between his fingers, enjoying its swell as it hardened beneath his touch. He bent and kissed her shoulder, biting lightly, just a nudge of his teeth to let her know his power. She shuddered again, arching against his palm, but otherwise remained still and quiet.

Stepping back, he lifted the crop again, letting its working end land with several sharp cracks against her bottom. He cropped her steadily, methodically covering her ass and thighs. He saw she was clenching her hands, the palms no longer flat against the wall.

“Palms flat,” he reminded her. “We start again.” He waited until she uncurled her fingers and pressed her hands again against the wall. She shifted a little on her heels. Her feet were probably tired by now. When she was still and once again in proper position, he reset the timer.

Sam wasn’t one of those men with a particular fetish for stiletto heels and corsets, though he had to admit they did create a lovely picture. But for him, it was more about the punishment—the confining of his slave in apparel that restricted and limited her, reminding her of her place and position. The fact that Rae looked gorgeous in the outfit was just an added perk.

Sam slapped at her thighs and calves with the crop. She yelped and pressed herself into the corner, as if she could get away from the stinging leather. He struck her ass, alternating between cheeks, watching the skin redden.

Stepping back, he aimed carefully and smacked her between the legs, catching her delicate labia with a satisfying thwack. Rae screamed and jerked her legs closed, reaching down with one hand to cup her cunt.

Sam smiled behind her, having expected this. “Oh dear,” he said with mock sympathy. “You seem to have fallen out of position. I guess we’ll just have to start over.” Again he set the timer for five minutes, waiting patiently while Rae resumed the proper stance. She had begun to whimper and her legs were shaking, but she placed her palms flat against the wall and again buried her nose in the corner.

Sam couldn’t help but stroke his cock, hard as bone beneath his pajamas. If she’d been his lover he’d have fucked her then and there, pressing her against the wall, impaling her from behind with his cock.

Instead he forced himself under control, and gave her fifty swats on each cheek. She stayed in position, though she continued to whimper and shake. Three minutes left.

He stepped back again, watching her. Reaching between her legs, he stroked her labia, flicking the bud of her clit with a light but persistent touch. He felt a tremor move through her body. He pressed two fingers into her wet heat.

She expelled a sudden breath and stifled a small moan. He withdrew his fingers and used them, now slick with her own juices, to rub and tease her erect clit, moving in concentric circles over her cunt until she began to tremble in earnest, small breathy cries signaling an impending climax. He knew he could send her tumbling into an orgasm with just a few more strokes.

The timer dinged.

Sam dropped his hand and stepped back.

“Punishment’s over.”

~*~

It took Rae several seconds to realize what had happened. She’d been on the edge of a powerful orgasm, ready to slide over, in spite of her stinging flesh, in spite of her awkward position and aching feet. Why had he stopped? She wanted to beg him to continue, to let her come, but she snapped her mouth shut before any words slipped out. She’d be damned if she gave him the satisfaction. Instead she let her arms fall slowly to her sides. She turned back, keeping her expression as neutral as she could while she struggled to catch her breath.

“Please, Sir,” she ventured, “may I speak?”

He nodded, cocking one eyebrow with ironic amusement. Jesus, she wanted to smack his face. Instead she said, “May I take off the heels? They’re hurting me.”

Again he nodded and she bent down to reach for the shoes, barely able to move in the constricting corset. Giving up, instead she managed to push them off by using the toes of one foot against the heel of the other. She ignored her throbbing cunt, focusing instead on the relief as she flexed her toes.

She didn’t understand it, but somehow Sam was able to drag these incredible, huge orgasms from her, climaxes so powerful she couldn’t resist them, even if she’d wanted to. What the fuck was that about?

With most men, most of the time, Rae faked orgasm. It was easier than having to work for it, and men were so easy to fool. A few moans and sighs, some rapid breathing, a sudden tensing of the body and then…”Oh, John (Hank, Robert, Jake, fill in the blank here), that was sooo good. Oh, you are the best…”

They would puff with pride, preening at what they fancied was their unique ability to really satisfy a woman. She would wait until later, once they’d gone home, or she’d left their place and returned to her own bed, to take her pleasure.

In point of fact, Sam was one of the few men who had made her come—she hadn’t had to fake a thing. What was it about him? Surely it wasn’t the rope and chain and the arrogant swagger? At the time, she’d chalked it up to her being especially horny that particular night, so horny she’d managed to come in spite of his weird kinks.

But if that were the case, how did she explain her reactions now? Why was her body, usually immune or at least indifferent to a man’s touch, so orgasmic, in spite of the horrific things he’d done to her? What the hell was going on? Was she losing her mind?

Sam led her to the bed and she sank gratefully onto the mattress, turning to her side as the sheet chafed her tender ass and thighs. “Lift your arms,” Sam said, as he reached for the long line of sturdy hooks that held the corset in place. As they sprang free, Rae heaved a sigh of relief and drew air gratefully into her expanding lungs. Sam rolled the corset and took it, along with the high heels, to the cabinet along the back wall.

Returning to stare down at her, he said, “You rest while I get our breakfast.” He turned and walked away, climbing up the stairs. She heard the snick of the lock in the door. Rolling gingerly to her back, she looked down at herself and cupped her shaven pussy, exploring the smooth skin with her fingers.

She’d been so close to a really powerful orgasm when that stupid timer had gone off. Maybe she’d just finish the job herself. She licked her fingers and touched her inner labia, stroking the folds and seeking the hard button of her clit.

Again she recalled his admonishment that she wasn’t to touch herself when alone. Well, he shouldn’t have denied her that orgasm, then. She needed to come, to take the edge off. Fuck him, anyway. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, or rather, her.

She closed her eyes, moaning very softly as she stroked herself. The ache he’d left by stopping her just before she came bloomed at once into a hot, urgent need. She rubbed herself fast, aware she might only have seconds before he came back. She gritted her teeth to keep from making any noise, aware he might be eavesdropping on the stupid baby monitor.

She arched upward into her hand, shuddering in a series of small climaxes that eased the ache, but left her wanting more. Left her wanting the kind of intensity that somehow only Sam was able to give her.

She lay still, legs akimbo, her hand still buried in her cunt, drifting lightly along the edge of consciousness. When she heard his tread on the stairs, she snatched her hand from her pussy and closed her legs, reaching for the sheet.

He entered the room, a tray in hand, the smell of coffee preceding him. Rae pulled herself upright against the pillow and swallowed, suddenly starving. Sam set the tray down on the nightstand. She saw it contained a plate piled high with scrambled eggs and bacon, as well as several slices of buttered toast and two cups of coffee.

“You take yours black, right?”

Rae nodded, surprised he remembered, since she was always the one who brought the coffee when they met at his office. She looked again at the tray, noting there was only one fork. Sam took it and scooped up a large bite of egg, which he placed in his mouth.

Rae’s stomach rumbled as she watched him. He looked at her, answering her unspoken question. “You may hold your own coffee cup, but I’ll feed you. You haven’t yet earned the right to eat by yourself.”

Whatever the fuck that means,
Rae thought, but she kept her face blank and simply nodded. She reached for the mug, inhaling the moist, scented steam before taking a sip. It was delicious, strong and hot just like she liked it. She took another sip, hungrily eying the crisp bacon and buttered toast.

Sam lifted the fork, laden with egg. Feeling a little ridiculous, but too hungry to worry overmuch, Rae opened her mouth. The eggs were perfectly cooked, fluffy and moist. He followed with a piece of bacon. Eagerly Rae accepted the food, ravenous.