She woke up in strong arms, surrounded by warmth, and a slight stinging in her head. She felt the damp cloth pressing to her head and the pain subsided but only just. A moan left her, a groggy, tired moan. Where was she? She could not remember. Had she overslept? Had she drank too much at the bar last night? And whose arms was she wrapped in, whose lap was she settled in, and whose strong, broad chest was she leaning against. She had never gone home with a man before, and the prospect had her rousing from her sleep, panic gripping her. When she opened her eyes, and she looked up at the man who belonged to the strong, warm body she was leaning against it all came back to her.
“You sleep walk,” he said when he found her eyes on him. She frowned as he dabbed at her forehead. “I thought you were trying to bash your brains in when I first came down.”
“I would have no reason to do that,” she replied emotionlessly. The cloth paused on her forehead and he eyed her coolly.
“Do you find yourself amusing?” he asked her. She said nothing, knowing she would no doubt get herself into trouble no matter what she said. “I do not.”
“Did I cut myself?” she asked, raising a hand to touch the split skin. He moved her hand away from her forehead and tossed the rag to the side.
“Did I cut myself, Master,” he responded.
“Did I cut myself, Master?” she asked, doing everything she could not to sound sarcastic.
“A small one. A sizable bruise,” he answered.
“I don’t remember,” she whispered. She knew she should move away from him, but she was too tired, emotionally and physically, and the touch was not terrible. He was only holding her, for now at least, and to move away would arouse his anger. She did not want to cry again. After last night, she didn't know if she had any tears left. He nodded and ripped open a little alcohol swab. She thought it was funny, how gentle he was being. How hard had he hit her with those whips, canes, and whatever it was he used? Kept food from her and made her crawl. Raped her repeatedly and violently? Now he held her and gently, so gently, dabbing at her sore forehead. “I had terrible night terrors when I was little. They went away, but then I started sleep walking. I was ten and we were vacationing in Florida. I got up, opened the door, and walked three blocks completely in my sleep. Luckily a policeman found me.”
“I hope you kept a lock on your door after that,” he responded. “One must be careful. There are dangerous people out in the world.”
“Do you find yourself amusing?” she asked him, repeating his words from earlier back at him.
“Hmm,” he said softly, and deeply, but his lips curved upward slightly, as if amused by her, despite saying he was not. “I make attempts to be… from time to time.”
She smiled despite herself, but it was a small, sad, tired smile.
“I don’t want to fight today,” she whispered as he lowered the little alcohol swab to the kit next to him.
“Then don’t,” he replied. He reached up, both hands free now, to touch her cheek. So gently his finger tips trailed down from her cheek bone, along her jaw, and to her throat. She looked up at him, her eyes trying to flutter closed again. Would it be so bad, living life like this until she could escape? This man, this deranged man, wanted her to obey him, he would hurt her if he didn’t get what he want. Obeying him just seemed easier, at least right now, when she so desperately wanted to be in a bed, under warm blankets, sleeping peacefully.
“You’ll still hurt me,” she said softly, gazing up at his icy blue eyes. “I’m in so much pain.”
He looked down at her, saying nothing. His eyes were intense, hot and cold at the same time, and with all the emotion in them, impossible to read.
“Please let me lay down in the bed, Master,” she begged him, not even really feeling the shame in that moment. “Please?”
“What will you do?... to earn it?” he asked. Her skin flushed and her lower lip trembled in rage as she answered. Her voice was soft and it trembled, but he smiled.
“What do you want from me, Master?”
“A Kiss,” he told her. “A kiss that will not end with my lips being bitten off.”
She nodded slowly, bracing herself for the feel of his lips on hers but he did not move. She waited, biting the inside of her cheek hard, hoping it would take away the terrible aching and stinging in her body, as well as steel her nerves.
“Ask nicely,” he told her and her skin burned red. He demanded a kiss as payment, and then makes her ask for it as if she wanted it. She did her best to keep her body from tensing up, he would most certainly feel it with his arms wrapped around her the way they were, and prepared her voice. She managed to keep the tremble of rage out of it, but her voice was far from the emotionless void she had hoped it to be. It was pregnant with her pain, and embarrassment, and anger, and judging by the bitter smile on his face, he heard all three.
“Please Master, kiss me?”
“Kiss me is an imperative. Never use an imperative when speaking to me, or my friends,” he told her and she was suddenly hit with the realization that she had much more to fear than him. It was odd that in that little, offhand remark she could be struck so hard. The fact that she relied on this man for more than just surviving had never really entered into her thought process. When other’s came, it would be him that would have control over what terrible things were done to her. She had already been raped by him, she could take it now, but not others, not multiple strangers she did not know. Not that she knew her “master”, but at least he was becoming… familiar.
“How would you like me to ask, Master?” she asked, swallowing some of her pride, suddenly afraid even the smallest sign of disrespect would send her off to be gang raped.
“May I please have a kiss, Master,” he said for her. “Always use the passive voice.”
“May I please have a kiss, Master?” she asked him. Her eyes moved to his lips despite herself. He had a handsome mouth, thin lips, but she had never been a fan of the puffy, pouty look on men.
“Since you asked so nicely, pet,” he told her with a little half grin. He leaned down, placing his lips to hers. His lips were warm and soft, and unlike last time when his face was rough with stubble, he was clean-shaven, and his skin soft and smooth. One of his hands cupped her cheek, the one hand holding complete control over the movement of her face. She did her very best to react in a favorable manner, but her body tensed. He seemed to have expected it though, and his other hand, the one wrapped around her waist, began stroking her back gently. His lips left hers for a heart beat before lowering again, this time slightly parted. His tongue ran across her lower lip, demanding entrance, and she forced her mouth open. His tongue entered her mouth, tasting her, playing with her tongue, pressing it down with his own.
She did not know how long it went on, but when he pulled back he was very pleased, and she a little breathless. Once again she was struck with confusion. The kiss, though terrible because of who she was kissing, was skilled, and gentle, and almost enjoyable. Why this handsome, obviously wealthy, erotically skilled man needed to do this was beyond her.
“How long have I been sleeping?” she asked him, struck by how tired she still was.
“Not long… our juices are still wet on your thighs. Can you not feel it?” he asked. She rubbed her thighs together and shuddered. “Or maybe much time has passed. Perhaps you were dreaming of me, hmm?”
His little teasing smile angered her. It was the little teasing smile that one might give a loved girlfriend. Though it still had its arrogance, it was too familiar, too normal. How dare he act like she was not here against her will? How dare he act like he has done nothing wrong? He could at least have the decency to acknowledge that they were nothing more than victim, and victimizer.
“That would explain why I was trying to bash my brains in,” she responded. She was on the floor in a moment’s time. He stood, catapulting her from his lap, sending her sprawling out on the hard floor. Panic suddenly gripped her once again and her body began to tremble. She held her hands up to protect herself, but she knew it would do very little good. But it was not the beating she was about to get that frightened her. It was the word ‘friends’, spoken in his voice, pronounced “freunds”, that rang in her ears.
“I am done being gentle with you,” he told her, shaking his head. Though she had seen him angry before, furious even, this was different. It was a bitter disappoint she saw in his warped frown, his lips turned downward and his face tight.
“Please, master, I was just trying to make a joke –“
“A joke? That was no joke,” he replied.
“I thought we were… I thought we were teasing each other…”
“Do you think I am stupid, whore?” he snapped. Gone was the nickname pet. It was once again replaced with whore, slut, or slave it seemed. In a ridiculously hard to understand way, it stung her slightly. “Do you think that every time you are sweet to me, it means you can turn around and be disobedient moments later, and nothing will happen?”
“No, please, I didn’t –”
“You will receive no more tenderness from me, slut,” he told her. “When you are obedient I will reward you with coldness and indifference and when I feel like it, the lash, but no more will I give you my tenderness.”
“No, please, master. Master, please let me lay in your arms a little longer,” she pleaded, hoping that begging to be closer to him would ease his temper.
“My arms,” he sneered at her. He reached down and grabbed onto her. She yelped, but kept herself from fighting him. She did not want to give him anymore reason to hurt her. One of his hands gripped her hair as he yanked her over to the pillory. He locked her into it, but this time she kept locks clasped around her ankles as well and she could not even shift her feet to ease the strain. She cried as he locked her in, begging him to have mercy, that she didn’t mean it, but he responded with silence. Once she was locked in he grabbed the side of her head and forced her to look up at him. She cried out in surprise when he spit on her. There was no mucus in it, he had not worked anything up, but it was still disgusting and she was momentary stunned. It landed on her right eye lid and slowly slid down her cheek. When her eyes fluttered open they met his icy gaze.
“Stupid, ungrateful, slut,” he said smacking her cheek. “You could have gone to a man that would spit on you, piss on you, shit on you, beat you, cut you, burn you, and you hate me.”
He moved around behind her again.
“Please Master, please, I’m sorry,” she cried.
“Stupid cunt,” he growled. “When I am done you will be a shell. Nothing more than a shell and then I’ll sell you to men far worse than me. Men that will use you in ways I would never even imagine. Men that will prostitute you to their friends, to strangers. You’ll be begging for death before they are finished.”
“No,” she wept. “No! Please I’ll be good!”
“How many times have I heard that?” he asked. “So many times. You are a lying, manipulative whore. Your soft little cries and sweet wet tears might have touched me before, but no longer.”
“What do I have to do?” she asked. “What do I have to do?”
“What do you have to do? Nothing, slave. You have run out of chances,” he answered and she cried out as the paddle landed on her skin. She cried out, begging him to stop, but the blows kept on falling. By the time it was over her ass was burning and she was weeping. She thought he was going to stop, but very quickly she realized she was wrong. He only changed implements. The cane was then used on her thighs and no matter how hard she cried or how loud she begged he did not stop.
“Please stop! Please!” she ended up nearly screeching. “Master … I… please…”
She began to hiccup as she cried. Her bruised bottom was on fire again and now her thighs were coated with lash marks. She tried to wiggle out of the stock, but it only chafed her wrists raw.
“Don’t… please… I don’t… don’t let other men touch me, please,” she cried. He paused his strikes.
“Is that what you fear most, slave?” he asked. “Not the pain, but other men fucking you?”
She nodded, sniffling and hiccupping.
“Please, please,” she begged. She tried to put all her fear and regret into her voice, sounding as contrite as she possibly could.
“You beg so pretty,” he mused. “Yesterday it might have meant something.”
He smacked her again and she yelped. He continued to strike her and she did not think she could stand anymore. When he finally stopped she thought it was over, but his hands slapped down on her ass cheeks and spread them apart. She prepared herself for the violation, but instead felt his finger press into her tight asshole. She jerked, cried out, and tried to swing her hips away from him.
“No, no, no, please, no, I’m begging you, please,” she cried out. His finger left her and she thought that he was going to leave her be. Instead he came back only moments later and she felt his finger enter her again, this time covered with lubricant.
“I shouldn’t even use lube,” he told her, pushing his finger into her up to the second knuckle. “I should rip that asshole apart until it bleeds, but I will not ruin an investment.”
“Please, anything but that,” she cried and he chuckled cruelly.
“You stupid, naïve, little girl,” he spoke, his words dripping with condescension. “Anything you say. You have no idea how lucky you are.”
He pumped his finger in her ass and then added a second. She winced and bit down on her lip hard. When his fingers were removed a small object was placed inside of her in its place. It was uncomfortable, an invasion, a humiliation, and she tried to sway her hips and force it out. It did no good though. When he came back around he forced the ring gag into her mouth, the one he used when he had forced his cock into her mouth. She tried to fight it, but not as hard as she could, terrified she might accidently bite him and anger him further. Tears dripped down her cheeks and she shook her head but it did no good. She was immobile. Her ankles, hands and head were restrained, keeping her securely in place.
She was completely as his mercy, and that, coupled with the pain, had her trembling. She tried to beg around the gag but it did absolutely no good. She could not form words and even if he did know what she was trying to say he ignored her. She felt whatever it was that had been put inside of her pulled out and she waited. She felt his cock at her asshole and shuddered. The stretching was an amazing sensation as he entered her. There was pain, but a sensation shot through her pussy and down her legs. She shook her head and tried to groan but the gag did not let her. He groaned as he slowly pushed inside of her. The grip he had on her hips was bruising, but it actually help distract her from the pain.
“Another thing to be grateful for,” he said as he pushed into her. “How many men buy from Belko I wonder, that fuck their toys with no condom, that have all manner of diseases?”
She shuddered but despite herself, was grateful that he did not. At least, that was what he made it sound like. Once he was completely inside of her he waited a moment. He was breathing slightly heavy, and he moaned deeply in the back of this throat. She cried out when he smacked an abused ass cheek hard.
“Look at you now,” he breathed. “You were so beautiful on that train. So sweet and innocent. I knew I’d have you like this sooner or later. In my basement, bound, bruised, my cock up this tight, little ass.”
She moaned in protest but it only seemed to make him move his cock backward and then push forward again.
“How’s that feel, whore?” he asked and slapped her other ass cheek. His thrusts began to move faster, harder, and his hips slammed into her ass hard. “I bet when… I am done…you’ll be… dripping…”
He was panting as he thrust and she moaned. He pulled out of her abruptly and she felt him begin to undo the latches at her ankles, then her wrists, and then lifted her head free. But he was not done. Her yanked her over to a nearby table and bent her over, forcing her hands behind her back. He pushed himself back into her asshole and there was another explosion of pain at the initial thrust but then it faded. She began to cry but not because of the pain. She could no longer pretend that there was nothing wrong with her. She had orgasmed last night, and now she felt a similar pressure building up inside of her. It hurt, and she still felt her body reacting to him. The shame could have swallowed her up. If she ever did get away from him how could she explain that to the police, to lawyers, or a jury. He could tell them she liked it and… she did. Who could believe she did not want it, if her body acted this way.
When her clit brushed against the table with every one of his violent thrusts it made it even worse. She bit back a moan, but because of the gag it escaped her. She heard his cruel laughter, felt a hard slap on her ass, and his thrusts slowed slightly, but became harder.
“You really are a dirty whore,” he breathed. “And all mine. Once you learn to obey me you will be perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
She moaned but she did not know if it was pleasure, pain, devastated acceptance, or a stubborn protest. The table shook as he thrust, and his hands gripped her arms hard, using them as a bracer as he held them behind her back. Her face brushed against the cool metal of the table with every movement, and her breath fogged it slightly. She stared at the fog as he thrust, trying to go somewhere else in her head. She would have been able to as well, ignore the pressure, the underlying pleasure, and pain, if he had not kept speaking. Every deep, accented word kept her in the present, kept her pressed to that table with him thrusting behind her.
“Oh you like it,” he breathed. “Is that why you fight so hard? Because you don’t want to accept that you’re my good little whore. One day you’ll beg me for my cock in your ass and it won’t be a punishment any longer, but a reward.”
He fucked her faster now, his thrusts staying hard and steady.
“Imagine the day, slave, when my cock will be a reward for you,” he said and her clit brushed against the cool table hard and a moan escaped her. He laughed again. “I don’t think it’s so far off.”
She felt his body tense behind her and his thrusts became slightly more erratic. His arms on her wrists tightened and she was sure she would be bruised in a few hours. He came inside of her and she could actually feel his seed shooting into her. He grunted and even when he was finished gave her a few more thrusts. When he pulled out of her she thought it was over, but he yanked her off the table and she fell onto her knees. He grabbed onto her hair and forced his semi-erect cock into her mouth. She could not fight it, the gag keeping her mouth open, but brought her hands up to the side of his pants. She fisted the fabric, looking up at him.
“How’s your ass taste?” he asked her, bringing her face to press against his lower abdomen. She gagged and he pulled back but kept his cock in her mouth. “Go on, clean my cock, use your tongue.”
She obeyed, but screwed her eyes shut as she did.
“Look at me!” he screamed, his accent coming out harsher. Her eyes snapped open and she looked up at him. Amazingly he got hard again, and he fucked her mouth as he had her ass. When he finally came again it was down the back of her throat and she sputtered and coughed when he pulled back. He let go of her hair and she fell down to the floor in front of him. She had no time to relax. “Crawl.”
She tried to get up onto her hands and knees but it took longer than he wanted. He removed his belt from his unbuttoned pants and wrapped it around her neck. Her eyes opened wide and she was sure he was going to strangle her as he looped it around her throat. But he only used it as a leash and pulled her after him. It was into a small room that he lead her and as he flicked the light on she could see it was a bathroom. He removed her gag without a word but the belt remained around her neck.
“In the shower,” he ordered and she obeyed, moving her jaw as she did. She coughed as she climbed into the tub, but yelped when the water was turned on. It was frigid as it rained down upon her. A cloth was tossed at her, landing on her forehead, and he retrieved a bottle of shampoo and soap from underneath the sink.
“Clean yourself,” he said curtly and sat down on the chair by the door, watching her.
“I-i-it’s so c-cold,” she said as she got soap on the rag.
“Good girls get hot water,” he told her. She was shaking as she brought the rag over her body. “Not so hard.”
His voice was harsh and she realized that she was scrubbing her skin raw. She just wanted to get the shame, and the hurt, and the humiliation off of her skin, but no matter how hard she scrubbed it remained. She was struck with how cliché it was, but it was true. She thought if she scrubbed hard enough it would just fall off her skin along with the bruises and the red stripes.
“Hair now,” he ordered. She glanced over at him still shivering and then bowed her head. He sat there watching her as she bathed herself. It was yet another humiliation. This man seemed capable of stripping her entirely of her dignity and she hated him for it. All the same she obeyed him and washed her hair. She was too tired to fight and did not think she could take any more today. She was nearing her breaking point, she could feel it, and she knew she could not let that happen. Once she was rinsed she collapsed on the ground, curling up into a tiny ball. She wrapped her arms around her legs as if it could protect her.
“Get up,” he said but she could only shake her head. “Get. Up.”
She couldn’t. She shook her head.
“Steh auf, schlampe,” he bit out. “Steh auf!”
She heard him rise from his chair and forced herself up. He was standing by the side of the shower as she pushed herself up on shaky arms. Her muscles trembled but eventually she got up. Her ass hurt, but it was not as horrible as it might have been she knew. She was on her feet, but her knees gave out and she was hurdling to the ground. Yesterday he might have caught her, but he let her fall. She hit the ground and pain coursed through her. It might not have hurt had she not been so cold.
“If you do not stand up and crawl out of the bathroom so help me God…”
She crawled over the edge of the shower and she knew how pathetic she must have looked. She began making her way over to the soft pillow bed, but his cruel voice cut through the air, stopping her. She continued to stare at the bed, wishing that she could go back to this morning. She wished she could be laying in his arms again, warm, gentle caresses on her face and body. She had been comfortable, he had been smiling, she had not been hurting so badly. And it was all her fault. She made him do this. Tears left her eyes as she cried. All because she couldn't keep her mouth shut. All because she could not let him win. But in the long run she would lose if she continued on. She had to make him think he won, as much as it killed her. He would be good to her then. He would be soft, and gentle and loving and then she could get out. She could get home.
“Master,” she whispered as she fell onto the floor. Her muscles trembled. She was too tired. Only a few hours of sleep, not enough food, the pain, the rape, the cold water, the shame, the humiliation. It built up inside of a person.
She began to crawl toward her cage.
“No. Not that one,” he told her. “That one.”
She looked over. It was a tall, skinny cage, one she would have to stand in.
“No, please, I need to sleep, Master…”
“No should not be a word to ever pass your whore lips,” he told her. “Go.”
She crawled toward it. He needed to lift her up and put her into it. He removed his belt form her neck and clasped a metal clasp around her neck that kept her in place against the cage. Another clasp went around her waist. She still needed her energy to support herself, but if she did drop, she would not strangle herself.
“I’ll be good,” she told him, her voice cracking. “Give me another chance please.”
“What did I say about imperatives?” he asked her.
“Please… let me have another chance?” she asked him.
“You’ve proven your behavior is only ever corrected a short while. When… If … I decide to give you another chance I will be certain to make your behavior correction permanent.”
“Master...” she breathed looking at him.
He shut the cage on her, locking it with a padlock. She felt panic grip her and her breathing quickened.
“Can I know your name?” she asked him. She did not know why, she wanted to know his name. If he had a name he was more human, it might be easier to get through this. Some might prefer him to be a monster. It would make hating him easy, but she was so alone, and he was all she had.
“I won’t call you it, but please. I just need to know,” she said. She had no more tears to fall from her eyes onto her wet cheeks, and she was shivering from the cold water still on her body. He looked at her, his icy blue eyes, bloodshot from the crack to the face, watching her skeptically. His skin was turning a blackish purple but it did not diminish from his good looks. She was angry at him, for being so handsome.
“Maximilian,” he told her, but she could see the hesitance in his face. He looked like he was waiting for her to do something with the information.
“Thank you, Master,” she said and one stray tear left her right eye.
“You be a good girl for me, Jessica,” he said, using her name for only the second time. “I want to be gentle with you. I want to be. You are not letting me.”
She thought it was odd that someone who claimed to have all the control, would give her that much power, but she knew to keep her mouth shut and only nodded. He nodded in return and left her then, walking up the stairs, leaving her alone, cold, wet, and scared.