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Bought and Paid For

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They fell into a type of routine. Her master had to work quite a bit, but he did not keep her locked up in the basement when he could not give her his attention. Instead, he kept her upstairs with a list of chores to do. She was allowed to come in and ask questions when she had to, but she made sure they were limited. He seemed to appreciate it when she came in and asked a slew of questions at once so he need only take his attention away from his work once. She didn’t really have all that much to do. Her master was a clean man who cared about his home. He did not make a mess and was happy enough to clean up after himself. If he took out a book he put it back. He put the remote back in the drawer. When he had a beer after he finished work for the day he would have her go to the recycling and retrieve a new one. He had her cook and clean the dishes, but often he would stand in the kitchen as she cooked, slowly sipping at a beer and speaking to her. He would sometimes go over rules. She reserved this time for any of the non-pressing questions she had. Mostly, he took the time to talk to her about his work. Annoyances and challenges, successes and excitement.

About three days after his promotion, he shocked her when he sat at the kitchen table as she stirred the sauce and asked her if she thought he should call his boss and complain about the H&R rep at the new Prague office. She remained where she was, staring down at the sauces she was preparing. He said nothing as she paused and she turned her head to look at him. He was seated at the table, picking his nails thoughtfully. She told him she thought that if he thought there was a serious problem he owed the company to report any misconduct. She told him it was hard for her to know, having not experienced what he knew, but if her master believed there was something wrong, that she thought he should trust in his intellect and business instinct and act on it. The next day he came to her as she began dinner with a smile on his face. He took a beer from the fridge, threw the cap in the garbage, and told her that the H&R rep had quit when it was announced that there would be a routine audit into his department’s expenditures. Of course, there was nothing routine about it. The CEO had initiated the audit at Max’s urging and the CEO was mightily pleased with his new CFO’s attention to detail.

In this time, her master did not let up entirely on her physical and sexual training. Though he was very busy, he still took the time to take her downstairs. He went over his rules and positions, would sometimes tie her up and take her roughly, whip her or spank her, say terrible things, but he always held her afterward and brought her back upstairs. Since his promotion, she had not slept alone. Sometimes during the day he would call her in and she’d be instructed to kneel at his feet or to bend over his desk. She did as he desired, bringing him to completion, and then he would send her on her way. She was now certain as well, that as long as she was obeying him and stroking his ego, she could get away with almost anything. Once, she did not want to bother him while he worked, she went ahead and poured herself some of the apple juice in the fridge. When he came out of his office that day she greeted him with a kiss and a smile. She complimented him as she retrieved his beer. Brought him a sample of the meatball she had made, and stroked his hair gingerly. When he went to the fridge to retrieve his own drink and found the apple juice opened, she admitted regretfully that she had drank some earlier in the day. She could see he wanted to be angry, but when she came closer and wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her naked body to his and played frightfully with the tag on her collar, he relented. He stroked her cheek and playfully scolded her, lamenting on how her big brown eyes did him in. That night, after she served him dinner, she gave him, what he called, “the best Goddamn head he’d ever gotten.”

And sometimes, when he seemed in a fine enough mood, she would refuse an order. Whether it was to get on her knees, to get on her hands and knees, bend over a table, lie down on the bed… His eyes would turn dark when he looked at her and he would reiterate the order. Only once did she give in and apologize. It was the inflection of his tone, instructing her he was not in the mood. His hand grabbed her hair so hard as he fucked her that night that the tears that pricked in her eyes were real. Still, she was more than willing to take the chance, for the times he did not make it quite clear any further refusal would be met with a harsh punishment, he took her with exhilarating passion and she could see the need in his eyes. He didn’t need to tell her to fight. She simply fought. Veins would pulse in his neck and forehead. His muscles would flex. The sound of his voice when held her down and whispered in her ear, yelled in her face. Sometimes, he would spit on her, on more than one occasion he slapped her, rather hard in her opinion, shocking her and frightening her when it was first happened, but he never really tried to hurt her.

Afterward, he would remain on top of her, either face to face or face to back, holding her throat and face and telling her that she belonged to him, that she was never going anywhere, and that she was born, put on this earth, to love him. Not serve. Not obey. Not pleasure. Not worship. She was put on this earth to love him. After her renewed subjugation and submission, she would repeat her vows to him. I serve you, obey you, please you, worship… oh Master, take me again… teach me.  She wrapped her arms around his neck the first time and pulled him closer. When he scooped her up off the floor and carried her to the bed, he plopped her down gently. As they went to bed he gripped her chin firmly and murmured to her, telling her she was a naughty girl, a bad little girl. He liked it when she begged for forgiveness, when she degraded herself in her desperate attempt to get back into his good graces. It was after that first attempt to keep him from getting bored, to give him the sensation he clearly enjoyed so much, of overpowering an unwilling woman, that he really began to show his affection for her with very little restraint.

About four days after his promotion, she awoke in the middle of the night with wet thighs and a terrible ache in her back. She slipped from his possessive grip, thought it was not difficult. He kept his arm draped over her middle, usually in a tight grip, but he often slept on his stomach, face pressed to the mattress just beneath the pillows, pointed in the opposite direction. When she walked into the bathroom and found her thighs coated in blood she was frightened. It took her a moment to realize she had simply gotten her period, but then she was struck with another realization. How long had she actually been with Max? She wiped her thighs clean the best she could, then panicked when she realized that she had ruined one of his expensive cloths.

She pattered into his room, dealing with a vast array of emotions, fear, and the terrible cramps in her stomach. She patted Max on the shoulder gently, drawing him from his sleep. He grunted, eyes fluttering open.

“Master,” she whispered into the darkness. “I’m bleeding.”

Suddenly he was awake. He jolted upward in bed. He touched her hips, asking her what was wrong. She told him and he chuckled tiredly, scrubbing a hand over his face and breathing out, “Oh, Gott sei dank.”

He lead her into the bathroom, cleaned her up, provided her with the necessaries, and sat her up on the sink as he dished out the anti-inflammatory.

“I thought you were pregnant,” he laughed softly. He scrubbed a hand over his face again.

“What would you have done?” she asked softly. He hesitated a moment, looking at her thoughtfully and then shrugged.

“So early?... I’d have terminated it,” he shrugged, unable to meet her eye, and put away the little first aid kit back under the sink. He patted her cheek and turned his pretty blue gaze back at her. “I just can’t trust you yet.”

She nodded and hopped down from the sink. He moved them away from the little spot of blood and they fell back asleep. It might have been the hormones, but when she awoke, she cuddled closer to him, moaning in pain softly and mumbling that she needed more pain killers. He rolled out of bed without a word, provided her with a few more pills. She took them happily and then sank into the mattress.

The next day, as she made him breakfast, she asked him if it had truly only been only a month since she was taken. She was nervous that it might anger him, but she now felt satisfied that she knew how to soothe his anger. He liked his ego stroked. Even when his anger seemed irrational, when she saw him beginning to work himself up into a rage filled frenzy, all she needed to do, most of the time, was to stroke his hair or face and remind him that he was in control, that he was the most intelligent, most handsome, and most masculine man she knew. Luckily, she did not need to try again now. He was seated at the kitchen table, flipping through a report he had printed. He did not even stop flipping through.

“It’s been close to three months now,” he answered. He paused a moment and looked up as he considered. “Before I left, you had a fever…. You were in a bad state for about a week. Normal… stress, malnutrition, exhaustion. During that time you spotted, but it was not a proper menstruation. Again… normal from my experience.”

She nodded and looked back to the pancakes. There was a few moments of silence and he was flipping pages when he spoke again.

“Does it feel longer?”

She considered that a moment.

“No… shorter,” she said. She looked over at him and he was looking up from his papers. “I feel like I’m missing whole chunks of time. Days or…”

“That is normal,” he said gently. “It was very traumatic.” He turned to look back into the file. “What you went through.”

She flipped the pancake and then put the spatula down. She walked over to him, dressed in his plain white t-shirt and a pair of his sweatpants. She touched his shoulders and he released his grip on the papers. A little smile came to his lips as he leaned back in the chair, letting her move into his lap, straddling him with spread legs. His hands slid underneath her shirt and slid up her back. Her hands wrapped around his neck, threading up through his hair.

She asked him softly, “what did you think… when you first saw me on the train?”

He smirked.

“I thought…that is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he answered. His hands tightened around her waist. Her heart fluttered. “Sweet and accommodating and submissive.” He leaned forward and kissed her throat. “And I knew I’d make you mine.” He nipped at her skin. He liked to bite. He had not bit her as he had the first time they had sex, but he enjoyed making her think he might. “I only pay for the very best.” His breath was hot against her throat. “You’re perfect, Jessica,” he breathed. “There’s no woman alive that compares to you.”

He kissed her hard on the lips. His hand gripped the back of her neck. They dug into her skin hard. When he pulled back from the kiss he reminded her not to burn his breakfast. She made it for him happily, his words ringing in her ear.

She was making breakfast a month after his promotion, her Master taking an uncharacteristic break in work and relaxing on the couch to watch the German national team, when there was a knock at the front door. She froze, listened, and then heard another knock. She walked into the living room to find her Master lounging on the couch still, his arm bent back as a pillow for his handsome head.

“Master,” she said, heart pounding. She had to be careful. If she reacted badly all his kindness and affection would be gone. She’d be in the basement again, in a cage, beaten. He’d be angry and disappointed and she’d be just like any other woman in his eyes. “There’s someone at the door.”

“Then go answer it,” he replied, looking back to the TV.

“But I – I don’t want to,” she answered. He lolled his head to the side, eyebrows elevated.

“That was an order,” he replied curtly. She stared at him, lip trembling, and then nodded. She walked through to the living room, pulling up her sweatpants and fixing them at her side. She walked through the hall, wondering what might happen if she told this person who she was. If she asked for help and asked them to take her away. Would he kill them? Would he kill her? Would he sell her? That was what frightened her most. She heard another knock, louder this time, and opened the door. She kept it cracked, allowing only her face to peer out at the newcomer.

“Well, hello there, Darlin’,” the man greeted kindly, voice laced with a thick southern drawl. Her lips twitched upward when she realized he was American. His smile was warm and friendly, eyes a pretty gray, twinkling brightly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest looking little thing. It is frightfully cold out here though, let me in, Sweetheart?”

“Oh, sorry,” she breathed and stepped to the side, letting him enter the home. He put down two suitcases on either side of him and removed a find pair of leather gloves. This was clearly a man of means, and by his lack luster reaction to the collar around her neck, she knew he was one of Max’s friends.

“Now who’re you then?”

“I’m Mas-Ma-Max’s Max’s girlfriend,” she said, suddenly unsure if he really was one of her master’s friends. She couldn’t risk him becoming angry with her. She wanted to make him proud.

“Well I’ll be damned, I can’t tell if I’m more surprised you’re American or that he has a girlfriend. Max! Did you know you had a girlfriend?”

“She wasn’t told who would be at the door,” her master said from behind her. She stepped to the side and her master stepped forward. The two embraced warmly, slapping each other warmly on the back.

“Good to see you, Monty,” her master greeted. “Thank you from coming.”

“Of course, it’s been too long and I wanted to meet this new girl you seem so fond of,” ‘Huck’ answered. He smiled, dimples popping from his cheeks. He looked a few years older than Max, and not what Jessica found attractive, but certainly a handsome and charming man. Tall, lean, and well manicured. He also seemed far friendlier than her master’s other friend. She only hoped she would impress him. “Besides, I was giving a lecture in Zurich and I will never say no to a few days in the Austrian Alps.”

He held his gloves in his hands, but made no move to remove his coat. Jessica waited patiently for an order, unsure what might be expected of her. Her heart pounded as she looked back to her master. Her throat hurt, but she was not terrified. I trust him. I trust him. I trust him. She kept repeating it over and over again in his head, and she believed it.

“Does she look familiar to you?” her master finally asked and those slate gray eyes were on her again. He looked at her a moment and this eyes fluttered closed, he tilted his head back, and he chuckled softly.

“Oh, Max,” he approved, eyes opening again. “When I first saw news break that an American girl had vanished on the streets of Eastern Europe, I prayed she was tied up in some man’s basement. You must have paid a fortune for her.”

“Belko had me by the balls – I had to have her.”

“Come here, then,” the newcomer beckoned. She looked to her master. He only stared back. Slowly, she moved down to her knees. Seeing the little lift to her master’s lips, she crawled toward the guest and placed her lips to his feet in greeting.

“She’s a good girl,” her master said. Her heart warmed.

“Up on your feet now, beautiful,” the southern man said. She got up to her feet in front of him.

“Help him with his coat, Jessica. Ask him what he wants to eat and drink.”

She moved around him to remove his coat, obeying her Master’s orders.

“How about a beer and I can wait till dinner. Ate on the train,” he replied. She held his coat in her arms, unsure where she was supposed to it. She looked at her master again.

“In that closet, go bring him in his beer into the living room. Hand it to him. Drop to your knees. Remove his shoes. Ask him if he requires anything from you,” her master directed. She obeyed and they walked into the living together. She entered again with the beer and followed direction. As she gently pulled at the laces of the newcomer’s black shoes, she gratefully noted that hygiene appeared important to him.

“Is there anything you require from me?” she asked, and then when he lifted his eyebrows, quickly added, “Sir.” He smiled softly at her.

“Just for you to remove your clothing now, darling,” he replied. Her heart stopped and her head whipped around to face her master. He stared back with a little tilt to his lips and nodded slowly. She nodded, stood, and gently removed her master’s shirt and sweatpants. When she looked back up, trembling, eyes misty, he was rolling up his shirt sleeves.

“My name is Doctor Elliot Easton Eldon Montgomery III,” he introduced himself with a wry smile. “I come from what you might call, ‘old southern money.’ I’m also a doctor. I’m a neuro surgeon, but I think I can still give a routine examination. If that’s all right with you of course,” he said. It took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her. She nodded rapidly. He had a kind smile and a gentle manner. She liked him far more than Ulrich. “Now, I want you to relax and I need you to be honest with me. Totally honest, or I can’t help any. Understand, sweetie?”

She nodded.

“Speak to him when he speaks to you,” her Master ordered curtly.

“I’m – yes, Doctor, I’m sorry, Master. I’m sorry doctor,” she rushed out. Doctor Montgomery was smiling as he rubbed sanitizer into his hands.

“She’s polite,” he told her master. “I didn’t need to tell her to call me doctor. Eddie’s girl didn’t call me doctor even after he told her to.”

“Eddie is an idiot,” her master responded. Doctor Montgomery chuckled.

“Might I bother extending another invitation to you for Christmas?”

“I uh,” her master responded, scratching his forehead and sitting down. “I’m considering it.”

Dr. Montgomery looked over in genuine surprise. He motioned for her to sit on the couch. He started with her neck, massaging the skin of her neck, looking for what she did not know.

“Really?” he asked.

“We’ll talk later,” her master responded. Jessica was disappointed. She wanted to know what they had to say.

“How’re you feeling?” there was a pause, his hands moved to the base of her neck. “That question is for you, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Doctor.” She looked at her master to see if he was upset. He was examining his nails. He did not seem to be paying attention. “I feel good, sir.”

“Aches and pains?” he asked.


“You have to tell him in the truth,” her master spoke. “I won’t be angry. You won’t see doctors often, when you do, and something needs to be addressed, you address it.”

“The cut, on my leg, it still hurts a little bit,” she answered.

“How long ago did she get it?”

“About two months,” her master answered. Dr. Montgomery nodded slowly and resumed his examination. He looked at her finger nails, listened to her breathing and heart, kneaded at her breasts and stomach. He was very professional. Not once did she violated, did he make an inappropriate comment, or lead her to feel inadequate. He spent a long time looking at the healing bit mark on her shoulder. He traced it, rubbed some cream from his bag into it, and had a short exchange with her master.

“You all but took a chunk out of her. Unlike you.”

“She bit me. I bit her back.”

The doctor chuckled.

“I bet you haven’t done that since, hmm,” he smiled. She shook her head. “Aren’t you a good girl.” He touched her chin. She liked his gentleness. “Stand up.”

She rose and stood before him. His hands went to her waist and pulled her closer. Her body pressed to his, but it was not overtly sexual. She glanced to her master, but he did not seem concerned.

“You’re a pretty little thing. Prettier than your pictures,” he complemented. His hands gripped her sides firmly but gently. He had the same air about him as her master. Powerful and domineering. She hated the part inside of her that wanted to please him, wanted his approval and praise. “Do you like being owned? Hmm?”

She nodded.

“Speak when spoken to like a good girl,” he scolded gently.

“Yes doctor,” she answered.

‘Oh,” he said and looked at her Master, a hand touching her cheek. “What I would not give to hear her call me daddy.”

Her master just smirked and chuckled.

“You can play with her some tonight, if you’re not too tired.”

She looked at him with wide eyes. His gaze caught hers. She said nothing. She made no protest. I trust him. I trust my master.

“What was that?” Doctor Montgomery asked gently. She only then realized she had actually spoken allowed, if only a murmur.

“Nothing, doctor,” she answered. His hand lowered to the small of her back and he held her closer. Her eyes fluttered closed. It was times like this that she realized just how vulnerable she was. She had somewhat forgotten the past week or so. The man seemed to know what he was doing and a smirk came to his face. He relished in it. She was at these men’s mercy. Whatever they wanted, she couldn’t fight them. It sent a tinge through her. His hand touched her chin and tilted her face up. He ordered her eyes open and she obeyed.

“I love,” he whispered to her. “A frightened woman.”

“I am not frightened, doctor,” she answered, but her voice trembled.

“Oh?” he asked with a lift of his eyebrows.

“My master will take care of me,” she said. He clicked his tongue together.

“Isn’t that sweet,” he cooed. “We will see if you still believe that when he lets me have my way tonight.”

He released her and almost immediately her master said, “endure.”

It took her a moment to realize what was being said, but she quickly moved into the indicated position. He took his phone was his pocket and began hitting buttons.

“I think we can start with a hundred,” her master said. He turned his icy blue eyes on her. “One hundred lashes from my friend here, to see if he can get you frightened enough. But because I am a kind master, every minute you hold that position, I’ll take one lash off. That is fair, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes master.”

Her thighs were already beginning to burn.

“Oh, that is pretty,” Montgomery said, raising his beer to his lips. His eyes raked over her. She was getting used to her objectification, but sometimes, like now, it hit her with an oppressive wave.

“Ready to begin, slave?” her master asked.

Begin? Her legs were already on fire. Her muscles were trembling.

“Yes Master,” she answered. Almost the moment she spoke her right leg buckled and she hit the floor. She grimaced and looked up at her master.

“Best get up. One hundred from my friend here is no easy task.”

She looked to her Doctor Montgomery. He had a smile on his lips.  She got back up onto her feet and screwed her eyes shut. Her legs ached.

“Are you ready to begin?” he asked her. Montgomery chuckled and sipped his beer.

“So cruel,” he chuckled.

“Yes, please, Master,” she begged. He hit a button.

“You brought birth control?” her master asked Montgomery. Montgomery looked at him and the two fell into conversation.

“I did. Enough to get you through. Give it a few weeks, of course.”

“I haven’t worn condoms, came inside of her once and then she didn’t have a period for two months. Gave me a fucking heart attack.”

“That’s normal. Like with gymnasts, but simply stress. Did she spot at all?”

“She did,” her master recalled.

A little cry escaped her and she fell to her knees. She grimaced, looking up with wide eyes. Montgomery looked at her, eyes twinkling, but her master blinked and clicked his tongue.

“Oh, slave. Not even a full minute.”

“Please, I, please,” she said getting back into position. “My legs…”

“Should I give her a second chance?”

“Oh, yes,” Montgomery purred.

“TH-thank you, doctor,” she breathed. She closed her eyes again, working hard to keep herself upright. Her muscles trembled and her entire body burned. Hot flames rippled up brought her muscles.

“It would be a shame to ruin her so young,” Montgomery said. “She’s young. Best enjoy her now.”

“Her body would recover,” her master said dismissively.

She let out a painful breath as one knee buckled. Her toes rolled back and she grimaced in pain. She pushed herself back up, looking anxiously to the two men before her. Neither said a word and her master looked at the phone.

“I have a new flogger you can try out on her,” her master said.

“Rope or leather?”

“Leather,” her master responded. “Braided.”

Montgomery laughed, lips pressed together and took a deep swig of his beer.

She fell again. Her master was kind. He gave her a good long while to regain herself, but her body was too weak, her muscles would not hold her.

“A minute and twenty-two seconds. That’s… 99.”

“Oh, sweetie, I’m going to have fun with you,” Montgomery smiled.

“Master, please, let me,” she said, trying to get back into position.

“No, I think we’ve been plenty fair. Ready?” he asked. Montgomery stood and placed what was left of his beer on the side table.

“I am always ready to give a Yankee the whipping she deserves,” Montgomery replied.

“Come on now, slave. Down stairs,” her master said. She knew better than to stand and moved on her hands and knees. The key code was pushed in and the door opened. Her master told her to be careful as she moved down the stairs. She did and a foot helped nudge her along. Center of the room. Her heart began to pound. She did not like this room. She looked over to the pillow bed. The place he had first taken her.

Her master reached up and retrieved a bar from the ceiling. He took it down, fasted her wrists to the bar tightly, and then hoisted it back. Her tiptoes grazed the floor and her body began to tremble.

“Here you are El,” her master said from behind her.

“Thank you, Max,” Montgomery said. He circled around and paused in front of her. He had a flogger in his hand. He stroked the leather ends lovingly. “Scared yet?”

“No,” she answered defiantly. She looked to her master. He leaned against his workbench with a smile, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“That will change,” Montgomery grinned. He raised a hand and the leather smacked against her skin. A cry of surprise left her but it truly didn’t hurt too badly. He made a sound of approval and walked past her. He touched her hip, warm skin brushing over her belly. “Very good, darling.”

He hit her again, this time on her upper back. She might have grown fearful if he was not so careful to avoid her lower thigh. He struck her again and slashed the flogger down on her other thigh. It was a bit harder this time. She bit her bottom lip and let out a little cry. He laid down another strike, this time just below her breasts.

“Hmmm,” Montgomery said, placing his hands on her waist to steady her. “Are we scared yet?”

He reached up and touched a nipple. He played with it, gently stroking the bud with his thumb. She sucked in a breath and tried to look at her master, but Dr. Montgomery was in the way.

“See the thing about you Yankee girls, is you’re so proud,” he murmured. “With your soft Yankee boys….”

“I can’t believe you still call us Yankees,” she whispered, slightly out of breath, skin burning. He chuckled softly, air coming through his nose and his lips pressed together. He pinched a nipple hard and she cried out in pain. He stepped back and swung again, hard. She cried out and he struck a few more times, all in rapid succession. It brought a genuine cry of pain from her lips.

“Stop, stop, please!” she cried out when the blows kept raining down. He slowed, landing on last leisurely swat to her bottom.

“Oh, darling, we aren’t anywhere near finished,” he taunted, running his fingers down along a fresh line of red stripes. “Now tell me, how many soft Yankee boys you waste yourself on before you met my friend here?”

“None,” she whimpered.

“None,” he smiled. “A shame. Can’t show you how a southern man compares,” he smiled. He was behind her and he pulled her back against him, grinding her bare bottom into his clothed erection. She looked her at her master. He was watching with intense blue eyes. “Don’t look at him sweetheart. You’re mine tonight.”

“No, he, Master-”

The doctor gripped her chin hard, pushing her lips together.

“Be quiet now, Yankee girl,” he grinned against her cheek. “Talk to me tonight and call me Doctor or sir. Don’t talk to him.”

Her master just stared at her.

“Please, Master,” she begged.

“Get me a gag. I need to shut your cunt up,” Montgomery said. There was real bite in her voice this time. A frightened forceful hint of real displeasure for the first time since he had arrived. Her master retrieved a gag and handed it to the doctor. The gag was placed into her mouth and fastened tightly behind her head. “Nice and quiet. Aren’t women so much more beautiful once they learn how to shut the fuck up?” he asked Max, He was behind her, hand on her chin, face turned in toward her. “Now, you can scream and you can cry, but no more talking.”

He began again with the flogging. He swung harder this time. She bit into the ball gaga, using it to help temper her pain. She made sure she kept as quiet as possible. He only struck her harder, and by the time he was finished, and 99 whips of the braided leather had coated her flesh red, she had hot tears coming down her cheeks and was crying out around her gag, smoothing the dark chuckles coming from her tormentor.

“Oh, Max,” Doctor Montgomery purred, tracing her hip with a single fingertip. “This is a piece,” he said reverently. He reached up and unfastened her from the bar. She fell to her knees with a loud thud. His hand went to her hair and he tugged her along. She seized his wrists and followed him, tears still in her eyes. She looked toward her master, but he only followed lazily. She was forced over a bench roughly. Dr. Montgomery tied her down with skill. It was quick, and she was overcome with the vulnerability of her position.

“Master,” she tried to cry out from behind her gag, but it was a muffled mess.

“Hmmm.” Doctor Elliot said. He came to stand before her, tears welled up in her eyes. He unbuckled his belt and she looked to her master. She could not find him. Her heart thundered in her chest. “Oh yeah, I’m going to fuck that smart little mouth of yours.”

She shook her head. Tears went down her cheeks and her nose began to stuff up.

“Master,” she cried from behind her gag. “Please.” It hardly sounded English. Montgomery laughed cruelly. He pulled his belt from the belt loops of his pants and approached her. Before she knew what was happening, he had the belt wrapped around her throat, buckled pressing cruelly into her skin, and he whispered in her ear. “Scared yet?”

And then the belt tightened and she found herself entirely unable to breath. It continued until she saw spots, her eyes sight waned, and she was certain her Master was finished with her. She had submitted entirely. She had tried to do everything he asked. And she had bored him.

She awoke blinking. Panting from her ungagged lips and looked up at Dr. Montgomery crouched in front of her. His eyes were a light with frightening glee. He bit his bottom lip as he looked her over.

“Do you trust your master still?” he asked. She nodded. Her lower lip trembled and she just wanted to be able to look at him. “Good,” the doctor said. He held up a wooden padded and pressed it to her lips. Her cheeks were wet and her eyes hurt. His belt was still wrapped around her neck, but loosened, and she didn’t feel any pain in her throat. “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be afraid,” he clarified. He stood. He had a sizable erection. Her entire body continued to tremble.

“Now,” Montgomery continued, “Since you’ve been hurt here, it looks like I’ll be giving this ass cheek, extra attention,” Montgomery smiled. She could not see him as he grabbed onto a creamy globe with a painful grip. Something about the way these men touched her. It made her feel a thing. Then again. She was a thing to them. Not her master though. She was sure of that now. She craned her head to try and find him. She just wanted to look at him. “Will you count for me whore?”

“Y-Yes, doctor,” she said. She was prepared for another build up. Some light smacks to work her up like he had with the flogger, but he simply brought the paddle down with a single, whistling blow. It smacked against her skin, sending a shockwave of pain from her buttock, down her thigh and up her lower back. She cried out, but made the mistake of not counting. “I said count,” he reminded her, bringing down the paddle and slamming it into her skin again.

“Two!” she cried out and he chuckled. He caressed the burning skin gently. It was almost soothing.

“Clever bitch,” he praised. “No, no, we will start over. Start with one.”

He hit her again and she jerked her head back and cried out the right number. He did not seem to like her ability to move her head. He came forward and tied the belt to a lever at the bottom of the bench, leaving her cheek pressed to the cold leather. Her eyes darted around the side of the room. He was still there. She hadn’t heard him leave. Where had her master gone?

“Two!” she cried as another blow came hurdling down upon her abused skin. She began to cry. She should not have told him she had not been afraid, not after he told her he liked frightened women. It had been foolish in retrospect, but she had meant it. She had trusted her master. She wasn’t so sure if that was a mistake or not.

“Three! Master please!” she cried out in agony. Montgomery purred happily. He stroked her skin once again. Kneaded the flesh, soothed it tenderly.

“No, no, focus, little girl,” he ordered.

“Yes, I-I’m sorry.” Another painful smack. “Fouuurrrrrr.”

It went on until she all but lost the ability to count. She said a number, but she couldn’t quite hear it.

“A small break?” Montgomery suddenly asked. “Hungry now.”

“Of course,” her master finally said.

“Just let me shove my cock down her throat,” she heard Montgomery murmur. “Just one fucking blow. I’m as hard as a rock.”

She heard no response and then they were climbing up the stairs. She panted, face crumpling as she tried to forget about the terrible pain radiating all throughout her body. She waited for her master to come back downstairs until she fell asleep. She awoke to rough hands on her waist and then something large and hard being forced inside of her. She moaned out in pain. She wasn’t ready for it. And then she felt panic set in. She panted hard, screwed her eyes shut hard. She wasn’t prepared to know who it was. It needed to be her Master. She might just die if wasn’t. He had promised. He told her. He… He wouldn’t have lied. He wouldn’t share her. He grabbed onto the belt and pulled. Her master had never done anything like this. She very seriously thought she might throw up. A brand-new violation. She thought this was over. Her master was supposed to protect her. She heard grunting, but she only rolled her face harder into the leather bench. Tears slid slowly from her eyes.

He was out of her then. Some footsteps. A few more grunts and she felt him on her face. Hot, wet, sticky. A gob landed in her closed eye. Her lower lips trembled. Two fingers wiped her eyes clean. Slowly they opened. Her heart fluttered and her lips parted. His eye blue eyes looked down at her, twinkling darkly, a warped smile to his lips. “Subjugation suits you so well,” he murmured. He placed his fingers to her lips. She opened her mouth and took his cum covered fingers between her lips. She sucked them clean. He removed them and gave her his thumb. He watched her suck his digits. She heard a door open and her master’s gaze lifted. “Doctor Elliot made you dinner,” her master said. “Hungry?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse. He untied her from the bench, but the belt remained around her neck. He grabbed onto it, leading her tightly over to the corner, like a dog on a leash. She followed on her hands and knees. Dr. Elliot placed a bowl down in from her. It looked like oatmeal or something similar. She really didn’t care at the moment. She just needed to eat. She looked up at, eyes straining and he smiled. He gently tucked a loose stand of hair behind her ear.

“Eat, princess,” he cooed gently. He lifted his eyebrows and spoke to her like a child. “You’re going to need your strength.”

She lowered her face and began to eat from the bowl. She licked the bowl clean, both starving, and desperate the please the men above her. Somehow, despite the cruelty in their laughs, the absolute objectification she felt, she yearned for those laughs, those condescending cooes and gentle, degrading praises. She yanked back up by the belt. Her master had hold of it.

“Look at your face, pig,” he said. She could feel the food on her face.

“I’m sorry, Master,” she said. He looked disgusted.

“Here, let me,” Dr. Elliot said. She was yanked over in his direction, he leaned in, and spit. Once again, it was all saliva, and he scrubbed it into her face with a rough hand. “Hmm, not working.”

“I’ve got something that might work,” Dr. Elliot suggested. He unfastened his pants. She was yanked back in his direction. Her neck was beginning to hurt. Her master’s hand was in her hair. It fisted her locks tightly. Suddenly, she began to sputter. It took her a moment to realize what was happening. Horror gripped her, disgust, fear, but mostly, horrid humiliation. She wanted to cry, and a little sob did leave her as this strange man continued to piss on her. Piss on her. Finally, he finished and she turned her gaze up to her master. She begged him with her eyes for something. A smile. A twinkle of his eye to remind her that he cared. But he was cold again, detached. He had a smile on his face, but it was cruel.

“Look what you did, you foul bitch,” her master said. “You got piss on my carpet.”

She looked down and true enough there was a dark circle by her knees. Her breasts were wet and her thighs were speckled.

“I’m sorry, Master,” she tried again.

“Clean it up,” he demanded cruelly. She was bent over, face pressed into the warm stain. She screwed her eyes shut. She tried not to breath. Tried not to move. “Go on. Clean it up.”

Unsure what to do, her tongue slowly left her lips. It touched the carpet and her face crumpled into a disgusted grimace.

“Aw fuck,” her Master breathed. She heard him rustling with his belt. The hot stream hit her face. It soaked her hair. It almost got up her nose. She coughed, pressed her face harder into the carpet, but she did not turn away. Dr. Elliot was laughing.

She was suddenly being yanked back to her master. His cock was hard now and he forced it between her lips. He pinched her nose.

“Look at me.”

She obeyed.

“Good girl,” he praised her. She was encouraged by it. She gagged around his cock. She tried to catch her breath. Finally, mercilessly, he let her go. “Suck my cock clean.”

She obeyed. She gripped the sides of his trousers, eyes on him, and made sure to worship his cock as she moved her mouth up and down along the shaft, licked the oozing precum from the tip and sucked the foreskin into her mouth. At once time his eyes closed and his lips parted.  He tilted his head backwards. She was spurred on by it. She was encouraged by it, but it did not last long. He grabbed the back of her head and forced his cock deeply down her throat. She gagged, gripping his pants until her knuckles went white. When he came, he came in her hair and on her forehead. He nudged her away and it was all that was needed for her to hit the floor with a thud. She looked up with watery eyes. She just wanted to make him happy. She wanted to be back upstairs again, cuddling with him in his arms.

Dr. Elliot took to beating her again. He did not seem to have a preference. He liked paddles. He liked floggers. He liked whips and he liked canes. The canes, she hated the most. They hurt, and it was a terrible stinging. The paddle hurt less, though she did not know why. Soon, everything began to blend. They would leave and she would sleep, then they would return. Sometimes together, sometimes alone. Dr. Elliot did not touch her, but what he lacked in sexual gratification he made up for with his floggings. He was rather cruel. He’d set tasks she could not achieve. He made her say horrible things about herself, and he tied her up in horrid positions.

But not once was she allowed upstairs. She slept on a bench or in a cage. She was hosed down instead of given the ability to shower, and the water she was allowed to drink was the water she could get from the hose when they cleaned her. It was degrading. It was humiliating. But what hurt the most was the painful need she had in her chest to be in her master’s arms again. He would offer praise, but never the gentle stroke of her hair or a sweet, loving compliment. It ripped her heart in two, and the crueler he was, the more she longed to please him, yet the harder she worked, the more she was humiliated.

“I’m a pig,” Her master said, listing off yet another insult. Another hard strike hit her.

“I’m a pig!” she cried out. The vibrator was turned up higher. She could not take much more. It buzzed. She’d never felt anything better, and yet she’d never been in such terrible agony.

“I’m worthless,” he continued.

“I’m worthless!”


“I’m nothing.”

“I’m nothing!”


“I’m not worthy.”

“I’m not worthy!”


“Does anyone want you?” he asked.

“No!” she cried out. Her chest hurt. “No one!”

She dissolved into a mess of tears as the next smack landed on her breasts. It was softer. Half-hearted. A pause. No more hits. The vibrator remained against her. Her master moved around and took it from Dr. Elliot. He rubbed it into her more firmly. He leaned over her.

“No one?” he asked softly. She wept. She shook her head. She couldn’t do it anymore. It was just too much. Too much.

“What about me?” he asked again, voice just as soft. Her hips bucked. It was automatic. He pressed the vibrator harder, he turned it up. Her belly burned and her pussy dripped. She wanted to go to sleep, she wanted to come. She wanted to cry. She wanted to crawl into her master’s arms and beg him to love her.

“I – Don’t – I – No,” she hardly managed to get out. It was hardly even words. Her orgasm ripped thought her and as she rode out the terrible sensations of bliss, she continued to cry. She tried to turn her face away so they would not see her cry. She wondered what sort of cruelty she would suffer through next. “I worship, serve, serve, obey and serve and trust. Worship. Obey. Serve. Trust.”

It was a hardly comprehensible stream of blubbering.

“Shh, shh, shhh,” her master whispered. The vibrator was taken from her body.

Dr. Elliot crouched beside her and gently stroked her hair back. His hand started with her forehead, gently rubbing backwards. It was soothing. She sniffled and looked at him with bloodshot, timid eyes. His smiled remained gentle and when he spoke it was soft and kind.

“You were so good,” he told her. She looked at him, face blank, not understanding. She felt her arms being freed and she gently she was pulled from the bench. She fell against a strong warm body. She looked up into icy blue eyes, stubble on his face, strong jaw, Grecian nose. He was so handsome.

“How’s my girl, hmm?”

“Your girl,” she smiled tiredly, voice cracking just above a whisper. He chuckled softly. He scooped her up in his arms with no trouble at all. He asked Dr. Elliot to get the door for him. She melted against her master as he carried her up the steps. Strong and steady. She pressed her hand to his chest so she could hear his heart beat. Her fingers closed around his light sweater.

They stopped by the stairs and Dr. Elliot came to stand before her master. He touched her cheek gently.

“Magnificent, darling,” he told her. She sniffled. She didn’t understand what was happening. “Truly something.”

“Th-thank you,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, sweetie.”

“Good night, Dr. Elliot,” she whispered. Her master and he exchanged some words and he began to carry her upstairs. He brought her into his bedroom, and straight into the bathroom where he turned on the shower. He placed her gingerly on the floor and went to get his first aid kit. He kneeled down before her without a word and she simply watch him. She sniffled again and he looked up. He got some toilet paper and instructed her to blow her nose. She did and tossed it into the waste basket. He checked the water and then instructed her to get inside. She crawled to the shower. She didn’t have the strength, but that wasn’t why she didn’t stand. She stopped before him and pressed her lips to his feet. She settled down on the floor, face pressed to his socks. He crouched down and threaded his hand through her hair. It was damp. From the water they had hosed her down with. From sweat. She didn’t know.

“I need you to get into the shower now, slave,” he told her. She nodded slowly and pushed herself up. He did not care that he got wet as he helped her in. He let her sit, placing some shampoo, conditioner, and body soap beside her on the shower floor. The water was warm and heavenly. She wanted to sleep forever.

“Hair and body. Don’t shave. I don’t want you handling a razor right now, ok?” he asked gently. She nodded. Remembered. Speak when spoken too.

“Yes Master,” she murmured.

“Take your time, relax, but don’t fall asleep. I’ll come back when I hear the water shut off.”

“Yes, Master,” she answered again, still timid. Her face crumpled and her eyes filled up with water. She lowered her face to her knees so he would not see and he left her be.

She did fall asleep, but not for long. When she awoke she cleaned herself quickly and turned off the water. As her master had promised, he returned almost as soon as the water turned off. He came toward her with a warm town and wrapped her in it snugly. She looked up to him again. He dried her off, dried her hair.

“Come on now, schatzi.” He said gently. She looked up at him. He touched her cheek. She followed him into the bedroom. The bed covers were pulled down. The fireplace was on. Only a side lamp was lit.

She sat down on the bed, face crumpled and looked up to him as he settled before her. He gently collected her hair and tied it into a bun a top her head. Hot tears dropped down her cheeks as she gazed up at him. Every gentle touch was like heaven. She hungered for it. Her heart all but burst when he looked down at her with a kind, warm smile, affection glowing warmly in his icy gaze. 


"Oh, mein schatzi, no tears," he said gently, hooking a finger beneath a tear and wiping it from her cheek. "You've made me so proud."


"Really?" she asked, more tears dribbling down her cheeks, scorching hot against her skin. She reached up, towel falling from around her shoulders and gripped at his shirt. Her entire body was trembling. 


"Yes, really," he smiled. He sat down beside her and wrapped her in his arms. She closed her eyes, pressing her face to his chest. He was so warm, so strong. She'd never felt safer, more cared for. He kissed the top of her head. 


"You were so good," he praised. "Obedient, humble..." he hooked a finger beneath her chin and made her look at him. "And strong. You lasted far longer than I thought you would." 


She played with his shirt and mumbled, "I wanted to please you." 


She flickered her gaze upward. "I.. a few times... I stopped trusting you... I'm sorry. For not having faith in you." 


"It was a scary situation to be sure. But you obeyed," he smiled. "Served and pleased me." 


He touched a breast. 


"And tomorrow you will worship me." 




"You need to sleep, now," he said. "You're exhausted. You were down there for three days you know. I think you slept maybe eight hours total." 


"Three days?" She asked. He nodded. 


"I told you, you were so strong," he murmured kindly. "Now, let's get you to bed."


"Was Doctor Elliot impressed?" She asked hopefully. 


"Very much," her master said as he pulled back his covers and she scurried inside. He tucked her in and sat on the edge of the bed. "He likes you very much."


"I like him."


"Oh? Should I be worried?"


"No!" She cried in horror, leaping up in the bed and seizing him by the arms. He chuckled and pushed her back down. 


"I know," he smiled. "Next time I need to go away, I will try and get him to come stay with you."


"I’d like that," she answered. She could serve the doctor for a short trip. He wouldn't rape her, and he had a kindness about him, even when being cruel, that condescending southern drawl made one eager for approval. 


"Go to sleep, Jessica," he ordered softly, gently stroking her forehead. 


"Please don't go," she begged, holding onto him, eyes filling with tears once more. 


"Shhh," he comforted. He had a little smile playing on his lips. "Elliot has one full day tomorrow and then he goes back to America. I want to spend some time just chatting. We've been busy over the last few days," he teased. She nodded.


"Tell him I say hi?" She asked. He nodded. He no longer seemed to care how she phrased things. 


"Good night," he said gently and leaned down to please a soft kiss to her lips. He pulled back and got up to leave. She felt a panic in her chest as he began to cross the room. She looked at his broad back, his trimmed neck, and well combed hair. The feeling in her chest – It was painful.


"I love you," she called after him. It was a rush of air, a desperate plea to let him know how much she... loved him. 


He paused, freezing in place, and then turned very slowly. She gazed after him and sat up, holding the blankets over her breasts. 


"I know I... I'm just a woman... but..."


"Shhh," he said gently. Another fat tear rolled down her cheek. She sniffled. "Go to sleep now." 


She nodded and settled down. He paused in the doorway. 






"It will bother me if I know you're up here crying." 


"I'll stop," she vowed. 


A gentle smiled came to his face. "Mein gutes kleines maedchen," he purred. He shut the door softly and before her head hit the pillow, she was asleep.