Indentured (6 page)

I’d been afraid he was going to fuck me then, right after all those injections that had sent my body into panic and pain. My fears proved unfounded, though.

Instead, he put me back in my metal underthings, preventing anything or anyone
, including me, from touching my insanely sensitive parts. He took the cock gag out of my mouth and brushed my teeth. And then he put me down on my hands and knees, and pulled my leash until I crawled after him from the bathroom.

I followed him on all fours through the winding halls of the penthouse, shivering and shuddering at the things I saw
in those moments I dared to look into the rooms we passed. Finally, we arrived back in the massive room we’d started in. He led me to one of the many oddly shaped pieces of furniture. After unhooking my leash, he connected my collar to a metal hook on the furniture, forcing me to stretch up high on my knees. Then he drew my arms behind my back again and pulled my ankles up, using handcuffs to connect my right wrist to my left ankle and vice versa. That left me with nothing to use for balance other than my knee caps and the tiny bit of assistance I got from the collar.

Once he had me situated how he wanted, he climbed over me to plop down onto the leather chair. It had him in a reclining position, with his legs spread out on either side of me so that my face hovered right over his insanely big, hard cock
that seemed to still be growing before my eyes.

Instead of forcing my head down so I had to suck him off, though, he grabbed me by the hair and pulled my head up and back so I had to look at him. His eyes bored into mine, penetrating all the way down to the depths of my soul, it seemed.

“You’ve done well today, slave.”

“I have a na—”

My argument was cut off by a sharp tug on my hair and a slap to the face.

“Your name is slave.”

His voice was always soft, never full of anger, no matter how roughly he handled me in a physical context. I marveled at his control, his seeming lack of emotion, even as I fought back tears and another retort.

“If I give you permis
sion to speak, you may call me Sir,” he continued, calm as you may please, but firm. Always firm.

Sir
. Not a name. I still didn’t know who he was or where we were. I just knew he’d pumped us both full of sex chemicals that he’d created, and now he thought I was going to answer to
slave
for the next five years. Not gonna happen.

“Wha—”

He cut off my question with a sharp tug on my hair again, and I hissed in a breath.

“You are
slave. I am Sir. You will obey my commands to the letter, instantly and without question or hesitation.”

With his free hand, he stroked the side of my face…just as he’d licked away my tears earlier. The sudden shift between
the domineering, pain-inflicting badass and the soft, sensual lover was throwing me for a loop. I couldn’t get my bearings. Especially not with the throbbing pain in my knee-caps, the near-constant churning and cramping and aching in my sex and ass and breasts.

“You exist to please me. You will do so by allowing me use of your body in any and every way I see fit. If I wish to fuck you, I will fuck you. If I wish to
punish you, I will punish you. If I wish to deny you pleasure while taking my own, you will be denied. Is that understood?”

“
Yes, Sir,” I somehow managed to say, though I would have rather told him to go fuck himself.

“Excellent. Now, as a reward for doing so well today, you may suck my cock while I watch the news.”

Sucking his cock was supposed to be a reward for
me
? He seemed to have that backwards.

He reached beside him for the remote control and flipped the TV on without waiting for me to get started. I was half tempted to bite him, but that didn’t seem like such a great idea, considering I was
tied up and he had an entire penthouse full of torture devices at the ready.

Glaring at him the whole time, I stretched my head forward and opened my mouth, seeking the smooth, bulbous head of his cock. He didn’t help me in the slightest, focused instead on sorting through the on-screen guide to find his program.

It took me a minute, but finally I was able to reach his dick. I used my tongue to change the angle of it so I could more easily blow him, even as some newscaster was talking about a sex trafficking scandal in Hong Kong. Ha ha. Hong Kong. I wanted to scream out that it was taking place right under their very noses, but what good would that do?

As I wrapped my lips around his cock and moved it deeper inside my mouth, I had to marvel at the size of it. I’d only thought it was huge when he deep throated me at the auction. Whatever that shot was, it worked
better than I ever imagined.

That thought led to some very unpleasant other thoughts about the shots he’d injected in me and how effective they might be.

My lips were nearly forced to stretch to accommodate him, and after only a couple of minutes of back and forth, up and down, licking, slurping, sucking action, my jaw hurt from being forced open so wide.

I let out a little inadvertent moan from my discomfort.

He shifted his hips closer to me and put a hand on the back of my hair, pulling me down onto him so far that my eyes watered. The head of his cock was bumping against the back of my throat, flirting with my gag reflex, and my instinct was to rear back…but the way he had me strapped in and with his hand on my head, that wasn’t a possibility. He couldn’t seriously expect me to take him into my throat again, could he? After he’d used that shot, and he was so big I could barely handle sucking him?

Some obnoxious music from a commercial came on, like a dance club sort of thing, and he lifted his hips up off the chair to thrust into my mouth. I started to gag
, unable to control my response, as he delved deeper into me. My jaw revolted against the attack and I accidentally bit down on him somewhat.

His hand fisted into my hair and he jerked my head back so fast and hard my collar tightened around my throat. I gasped for air, and he slapped me hard across the cheek with his other hand.

“No teeth.” Still, there was no emotion in his tone. “If you use teeth on me again, I swear to you, you’ll regret it. You will not enjoy your punishments, slave.”

I was crying and still trying to catch my breath when he slammed his cock into my mouth again and started thrusting with all the fury that was lacking in his voice. Both of his hands held my head down, and even though I gagged, I somehow r
efrained from biting him again.

“Swallow,” he commanded after several minutes of his incessant pace, finally slowing.

I tried to swallow, working the muscles in my throat even though they didn’t want to cooperate. His head pushed into my throat, stretching the walls to the limit. He kept pushing and kept pushing, and I continued to swallow even though I was sure my throat would burst open at any moment. It wasn’t made to handle something that size, that much was for sure.

My lungs were on fire and I was getting frantic for air, but still he kept pushing into me. Somehow, and I swear I still don’t understand it, I managed to accept him.
All
of him.

He held tight to the back of my head with one hand, keeping my nose pressed into his groin
, his balls tight against my chin. With his other hand, he massaged my throat. “Keep swallowing. It squeezes my cock in a delightful way.”

Despite my lack of air and the tears pouring freely down my cheek
s, I kept working my throat muscles around him. It did eventually get somewhat easier, but it never felt natural.

When he finally pulled out, I gulped in as much air as I could just before he pressed all the way in again.

“Now suck,” he ordered.

It took me a few tries to determine just how on earth to suck when his dick was filling me like that, but I finally figured it out.

I’d been deep throating his cock for longer than the longest blow job I’d ever given in my life, alternating between the swallowing and the sucking, when I realized it was no longer news I was hearing, but some sort of porno. He pulled out of my throat and fucked my mouth in that frenzied pace he had used earlier.

We kept alternating between the two, fast face fucking and deep throating,
back and forth, back and forth through not only one porn movie, but three…and still, he hadn’t come. Good god, that shot he gave himself was insane. My jaw felt like it was locked into this permanently open position, I’d never felt more pain than I was experiencing in my knees, and I had been crying so hard and for so long that I was sure half of the moisture coating his cock was a combination of my own tears and snot more so than saliva.

Finally, he turned off the TV. Putting both of his big, strong hands on either side of my head, he thrust his hips up into me fast and hard. I felt the tightening of his sac and the lengthening of his cock just before he shot stream after stream of cum down my throat.

I swallowed as much of the thick, salty stuff as I could, but there was so much that it dribbled out of my mouth and slipped down my chin. Finally, I could work my jaw and relax the muscles.

“You will practice this every night until you please me,” he said indifferently.

I’d never felt so infuriated by anything someone had said in my life. After all that, I hadn’t pleased him? My eyes shot up to him, fury surely evident in my glare. “Maybe if I wasn’t in so much pain I could satisfy you better,” I grumbled.

The back of his hand came across my cheek so fast I couldn’t prepare myself for it. “Slaves do not decide the conditions of their service.
If I want you to experience pain, you had better believe you will experience pain.”

I fought back the fresh wave of tears fighting their way forward, but not without a massive effort.

Moments later, he was undoing all the locks and latches holding me in place. My body collapsed to the ground once I was no longer held up by my bonds, but I wasn’t granted long in reprieve.

He hooked the leash back onto my collar and stood, then tugged, pulling me awkwardly forward so I was forced to crawl or be dragged through the room.

“Time for bed, slave.”

Bed. Sleep. Rest for my weary, aching muscles and joints. The lure of such a promise was so great that I crawled more quickly than I thought I’d be able to in following him through a different hallway.

He turned twice, and then opened a door at the end of what felt like a mile-long hall. A gigantic bed filled the center of the room, easily a California king set low to the ground on a platform. Luxurious, black silk bedding covered it, and my mouth nearly watered at the thought of spending the night in such decadence.

He pulled me fully inside and shut the door behind us, and only then did I take a look at the rest of the room. More crazy-looking chairs and lounges were scattered strategically around, but it was the contraptions situated along the wall of windows that caused my heart to stop. In the center stood a wooden cross. To its left was what appeared to be a variation on a saw horse like you might find in a wood workshop. On the right, though, was a metal cage—like a dog crate—but with bars bent and twisted in such a way that there would be no room to wiggle at all.

It was the cage he led me toward. He unlatched a series of locks and lifted the top free, setting it on the floor beside him. Then he pulled on my leash until I stood.

“Step in,” he said.

When I didn’t immediately comply, he took a fistful of my hair and jerked me forward. I lifted one foot in and then the other, settling them where he directed me to. I’d barely gotten them into place before he was pushing me down, forcing my body into place.

He tugged my arms down and forward, settling them into caged tunnels before flipping a lock into place over my wrists.

Next, he pulled up hard on my collar, forcing me to elongate my neck. He released the leash and immediately replaced it with a new lock that was part of the cage, keeping my head up and back. A new gag was pushed between my teeth and locked behind my head.

I expected him to put the top of the cage over me then, but I should have learned not to have expectations.

A steel bar came down over my waist, pushing it down and forcing my back into a horrible arch. I couldn’t lower my hips at all because of the shape of the curves. One at a time, each of my legs was lifted up and out and back, until my knees were once again lower than any other part of me, bent at a crazy angle. Metal restraints locked over my thighs, keeping them wide enough for a solid fucking session if it wasn’t for the metal underwear, then my knees and ankles.