Her Submission (23 page)

“
If you were a fully trained sex slave, you wouldn’t have tried what you did.” He again stung her breasts. “It wouldn’t have occurred to you because you would have seen me and all men as your absolute masters.”

Sex slave.

He wasn’t really hurting her. The strikes were like mosquito bites, quick to make their impact only to fade from her awareness. The awful thing was how he kept after her. She became a hooked fish being reeled in by a man in no hurry to end the battle. When he occasionally stopped lashing her, she imagined he was letting out enough line so she could continue to fight. Then he started hitting her breasts, belly, and thighs again, reeling her in until his boat loomed over her.

And he talked.

Whether he was wielding the whip, sipping his drink, or just studying her, he continued his story. He’d been employed by Carnal Incorporated as a sex slave trainer for some ten years. At the beginning he’d worked under the tutelage of men long accustomed to molding female minds and bodies, but even back then he’d been no novice. He didn’t tell her why Carnal’s management had initially taken him into their program and of course she couldn’t ask.

Carnal was an international organization with training facilities located in the United States primarily so top management could keep an eye on the operation. About half of the slaves came from this country while the rest were flown in by well-paid private pilots. As a secret operation Carnal paid no taxes. In more than twenty years of existence it had never been investigated because the right palms had been and continued to be greased.

“
When powerful, wealthy men place orders for a certain kind of woman, other trainers or I go looking for one that meets our customer’s demands. Locating a potential subject doesn’t take long. What’s time consuming is determining how much risk is involved in grabbing her. Unless a woman is physically, socially, and emotionally isolated we won’t bother with her.” He leaned forward. “You met that criteria.”

Was he saying she was already bought and paid for, that he’d taken her for profit and not his personal use?

“
At present there are five Carnal training facilities.” He lashed one thigh, then the other. “If I wanted to, I could take you to any of them. They’re each unique and yet they have a number of things in common. They’re absolutely secure. No slave has ever escaped. The budget we trainers work with is generous. Within reason we can order anything we believe will enhance the training experience. We’re always experimenting.”

Maybe he wanted her to think about what he meant by experimenting, but she couldn’t because he’d increased the whip’s tempo. Dizzy from trying to twist away, she shook her head trying to clear it. He concentrated on the outside of her left thigh until she turned her back to him. Then he switched to her buttocks.

He was spanking her, treating her like a misbehaving child.

Taking her into a place where—where what? Making her float.

“
I’ve long been in favor of cages over other kinds of restraint. I often put a naked new capture in a four by four foot enclosure. She can lie down but not stretch out. Whether she stands or sits is up to her. There’s nothing but bars to look at, nothing except metal to touch. The lock is larger than it needs to be and makes its own impact. In time I give her a bucket to pee in. She can drink but only by sucking out of the bottle I hold. If she wants to eat, she has to wait until I place the bites in her mouth. A few days of that, of seeing only me—it makes an impact.”

Of course it did, maybe the same as what he was doing was changing her.

“
Think about what’s going on with you right now.” He struck her ass, paused, teased her there again. “There aren’t any cages here, no guards, no pictures or videos being sent to your eagerly waiting owner.”

At first it didn’t register that he’d stopped detailing Carnal slave training and was talking about her again. When it did, she tried to pay close attention, to catch a warning before it was too late but the attack on her buttocks was so intense.

Erotic.

Awash in another wave of helplessness, she faced him. The whip snapped an inch from her left nipple.

“
I nearly lost it when you tried to hurt me,” he said and leaned back again. He placed the whip on the floor within easy reach. “If it had been a few years ago—other trainers have had to pull me off slaves who made me angry.”

She tensed and tried to move away when he stood, then stared after him as he headed into the bedroom. Something had happened to her mind and body that went beyond what he’d told her and done to her. Her existence revolved around this place, this man, the current spinning through her.

Master knew her, showed her a new way to be. To experience.

Maybe even to trust.

Was that possible?  

He was both gone too long and back too soon—carrying the digital. “Rotate. I want to record this from all angles.”

Not wanting to anger or disappoint him, she slowly did as he commanded. She was becoming Master’s beast.

Instead of recoiling from the thought, she held it in front of her. With her arms high over her head, she had to keep her legs together to lessen the strain throughout her body. As a result, her thighs were sealed together, her sex trapped and hot.

Needing more. Needing him.

At length he’d recorded what he’d turned her into to his satisfaction. After draining his drink, he picked up the whip and walked around her, striking her as he did. The insect sting sensations landed everywhere, seemingly leaving no part of her untouched. Her breathing grew ragged.

Master’s sex slave.

“
Even if Carnal Incorporated is shut down, another will take its place,” he said, “because there will always be men with the means and desire to own human flesh.” The whip clattered to the floor. “And because there are enough submissive women to feed that need. Some are converted from the independent women they were. Some, like you, come to it naturally.”

With him behind her, she was hard-pressed to concentrate on what he’d just said.

“
You smell of submission. It oozes from your pores.”

She was still trying to find the lie in what he’d said when he reached around her. His too-large hand spread over her collar so the leather bit into her throat. There was nowhere to go except into him. His chest rubbed against her shoulders while his cock ground into the small of her back.

“
One reason I often place a slave in a cage—“ His other hand snaked around her hips and then between her legs. “is because that way she isn’t touched for a while. She has no doubt that sooner or later I’ll start manhandling her. The waiting—the waiting helps break her down. You didn’t need that.”

He hadn’t kept his hands off her. From the beginning they’d roamed over her body, just as he was doing now.

If he asked what she was looking at she wouldn’t be able to say, not with his strength sealing her to him, his hand heating the collar against her throat and his fingers between her legs.

Scared and excited, she surrendered to the primal need to give him as much access to her sex as possible. Even as she widened her stance, a part of her demanded an explanation. Didn’t she have any pride? Any modesty?

Pride belonged to women with clothes and freedom of movement.

Women without submissive needs.

Master was no longer whipping her or taking her picture. Instead he was fingering her because he knew how much she loved it.     

Loved? Yes, that.

The pressure against her throat ended, and he started working on the knot that held her gag in place. When the rope loosened, she pushed it out of her mouth. He hadn’t given her permission to talk so she focused on working feeling back into her mouth.

“
In time,” he said, “you’ll reveal everything about the thoughts, images, and needs that turn you on. I already know a great deal about them. Having your fantasy man be in charge touches you on a deep level. You don’t know why and that occasionally concerns you. As an independent woman you should want to be a man’s equal so why do you envision yourself on your knees?”

Damn him, he was right.

The hand between her legs had stilled while he was talking. When it started moving again, she squirmed but didn’t try to break free. A muscled forearm pressed against her right breast, and he closed his fingers over her left, effortlessly trapping both. Claiming them—and her.

“
Go back in your mind for me, slave,” he muttered seductively. “Take me into your past and tell me about the events that formed the woman you turned into. Start with the parents you didn’t want to talk about.”

Caught off guard by his command, if that’s what it was, she tried to separate herself from what he was doing to her body but couldn’t. She was on Master’s deck, in his chains and ropes, surrounded by him. Giving into him.

“
Why do you care?” she whispered around her tumbling thoughts. “Isn’t—isn’t controlling my body enough?”

He didn’t immediately answer. “No, it isn’t. Otherwise I won’t know if you’re keeping things from me.”

No, he wouldn’t. But she’d held so much locked inside for so long, been so alone. “My parents are alcoholics,” she blurted. “That says a lot, doesn’t it?”

“
They drank all the time you were growing up.”

She’d barely opened the window to the past and already his insight rocked her. The fingers against her sex stroked and caressed while the hand over her breast cradled it. Surrendering to the living blanket around her, she rested her head against his chest.

“
I, ah, I haven’t seen them for a couple of years. The last time I did, the change in their appearance shocked me. They looked so old, wasted. They were living together then but that could have changed. Again.”

“
So they sucked as parents. When did you leave home?”

Even though his question hadn’t taken her into the most painful part of her life, strangely she wasn’t ready to leave the subject of her childhood.  Even as she tried to decide how much Master deserved to know, the strain on her up-thrust arms made it impossible for her to focus entirely on the gift of his body and hands. To take strength from him.

“
A sensitive subject,” he said. “I wondered how many I’d find. Let’s try another approach. How did you lose your virginity?”

“
What? With Mickey.”

“
Was the idea mutual?”

“
Yes.”

“
How old were you?”

“
Fifteen.”

That’s fairly young. Did you know what you were getting into?”

“
I ah, my old man—I started developing early and he, you know.”

When Master didn’t press her to continue, she silently thanked him. An all-knowing finger slipped past her clit hood and settled against the center of her ability to feel pleasure. Along with a shot of arousal, she felt—protected.

“
My folks didn’t care if my brothers and I saw when they were having sex so I had—“

“
You thought you knew what sex was about.”

“
My old man talked about how I was turning into a cock tease. I wasn’t sure what he was getting at so when he tried to climb into my bed…”

“
Tried? You weren’t able to fight him off?”

Were they really having this conversation? Maybe the greater question was what had he done to make her existence revolve around him?

Not taking time to judge the danger in what she was saying, she handed him the details of the nights when her drunken father had tried to rape her. She wasn’t sure how many times he’d waved his limp penis in her face while straddling her before he gave up. Disgusted as she’d been by the sight, she’d eventually stopped resisting. He rubbed himself all over her while she tried not to throw up, but he was never able to produce an erection. Finally he told her it was her fault. No man would ever want such an ugly bitch.

The words
ugly bitch
knotted her stomach. All those years later and they still hurt.

“
Damn him,” Master muttered. “Some men should never be fathers.”

Was he speaking from personal experience? Would he ever reveal anything of his own past?

Please, I want to know.

“
There’s much more you’re going to reveal, but I don’t want to go at it like this anymore.”

His tone made her wonder if he was confused but that couldn’t be. Master was in charge of everything that happened between them as witness by how effortlessly he’d kept her suspended between arousal and discomfort. When he loosened the rope holding her arms up, her belief in his take-charge personality took another forward step.

She couldn’t help but groan as blood began to flow back through her arms. She didn’t know what to do with them—or the rest of body. He was standing apart from her just watching her, learning what about her?

Anxious and eager, she studied the rope dangling from her handcuffs.

Master’s possession.  Wearing his collar.

Rocked anew by the thoughts, she lifted her head. Master wasn’t handsome. There were too many rough edges to him with dark whiskers blurring his jawline. Too many scars.

And yet…

“
Tell me something.” He folded his arms. “How do you feel now that you told me about what your father tried to do?”

“
Exhausted.” But it was more than that. Even though the shadows had lengthened, she still felt warm. She couldn’t remember when she’d last talked to someone else let alone seen another human being. Master had become her world.

Master’s gaze moved to her breasts. “Do they still sting?”

Despite the quick conversation change, she kept up. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to answer as honestly as possible, just that she did. “They feel alive.”

He nodded and sat back in the chair. His leg probably ached. Would a massage help?

“
Why do you think that is?” he asked.