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Bought and Paid For

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Maximilian tossed the beer cap onto the kitchen counter with a sigh, listening as the ridged metal spun atop the dark marble surface. It was still pattering in his ears when he heard the pounding on the door and the beer bottle froze over his lips. There was a coldness that crept from the crown of his head downward until it consumed his entire body. With the coldness came the tightening of his muscles and an immediate aching behind his eyes. He was only four or five feet from the basement door, and despite knowing it was sound proof, listened for any sign of the girl he had in his basement. The pounding paused, but started again a moment after. The sound exploded through the house.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, cursing and wincing immediately as pain shot though his nose. He placed the beer on the table and walked toward the front door. With each step he struggled to lift his heavy feet. His nose was throbbing now, his head hurt, and he could hear his heart beat pounding in his ears. When he opened the door, he was positive he was going to see a police officer standing in front of him, or a detective perhaps. Who else would be disturbing him at his vacation house? Few knew he owned it, fewer knew where it was, and those who did would call him first. When he opened the door to see the postal service there he could only stare at the visitor. His heart was still pounding in his ears but the nausea building up at the base of his throat was beginning to subside.

The man waited to be greeted but Max only stared, his icy eyes glaring at him from the black skin surrounding them. The man was obviously taken aback by the bruised skin and swollen nose, and surely the way in which Max was leaning against the semi cracked door did not lend a comforting air to him. Still, Max said nothing and the postman stared back, openly and rudely assessing his bruises. Finally, Max had enough and spoke, his speech harsh and clipped.

“Can I help you?” he asked stiffly.

“I have a package for you,” the postman said.

“A package,” Max said, glancing down at the large brown box the man had beside him.

“Yes, sir,” the man replied. “If you could sign here…?”

Max took the clip board and signed his name, glancing at the package hesitantly. He couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be, and with a recently kidnapped slave in his basement he was on edge. Once it was signed the man bent down to pick up the package and carry it into the house but Max stepped in front of him, taking the package into his own arms.

“Thank you,” he said curtly, stepping backward into the house. He kicked the door shut and locked it. Leaving the mysterious package in the hallway, he went to the living room window and looked out. He did not leave the window until he saw the postman driving down the windy road that led down the mountain and out of sight. Retrieving a knife from the kitchen, along with his beer he sliced into the package. The moment the brown cardboard box was open he was able to see the backpack. He reached in and grabbed the note pinned to the top.

Got the address from a mutual friend. Thought you might like her affects. I have no need for them. Enjoy. –B

Max cursed as he crumpled the note. Belko knew he did not like having any more contact than he had to. It was an unnecessary risk he did not like taking. He reached in and pulled out the backpack, leaving the cardboard box in the center of the hallway. He plopped down on the couch, running his fingers over the bridge of his nose. He unzipped the larger zipper and reached inside. Most of it was clothing, which he put on the couch beside him. Deeper down, hidden under the clothing, was a camera, a contact book, and other necessary backpacking items, toothpaste and brush, cosmetics, a first aid kit, shaving cream ect. He set the shaving cream to the side, reminding himself that he had not had her shave when she took her cold shower. It had only been two days since she was waxed by Belko’s people, and so she would not need to shave for a day or two yet, but it would be nice to be able to give her some female shaving cream when the time came, if she was good that was.

He searched for a cell phone, turning the bag inside out, searching pockets once, twice, three times. If there was anything in that bag that could be tracked he would make damn sure to get rid of it. Luckily he found no cell phone. Tossing aside a scarf with the colors of the German flag he sat back down on the couch. He was still anxious there was a cell phone in the bag, but when he found a bag of Euros labeled ‘payphone’ he relaxed some. He spent an hour or two going through her photos on her camera. He was able to track her trip backwards. The most recent photos were from Hungary, then Slovakia, the Czech Republic, Germany and beginning in Austria. The photos she was in made him smile.

She looked so happy. He wished she would smile at him like that. As he placed the camera down he told himself that one day she would, he just needed to be patient. He always had some difficulty being especially cruel, but with Jessica it was even more difficult. When he was seeing to the little cut on her forehead, he realized that he liked her. When she used his own words on him, ‘do you find yourself amusing?’, he had been amused. He only wished she had not taken it so far. He would be lying to himself if he did not admit that her second jab had cut deep. The moment the words left her lips, he felt his anger flair.

He stood with a sigh. When she had told him she did not want to fight, that she just wanted to lie down and sleep, he had envisioned a nice, long day laying in the pillow bed with her, holding her soft, naked body to his protectively. Entering the kitchen, he began boiling some water and grabbed a small plastic bag of rice. He stared into the boiling water, bitterly regretting the way the day had turned out. He knew it was his own fault that she was being so disobedient. He had let her get away with far too much. If he wanted to come back to a more obedient slave he would need to make sure he kept up his current treatment of her until he went on his meeting in Berlin; let Ulrik do with her as he will, barring any sexual contact or permanent damage. She would learn that she was lucky to have him.

He cut the bag of rice once it was done cooking and poured it plain into a small white bowl. He did not want her losing any more weight, though keeping food from her was what she deserved. He set the rice to the side to cool and went back into the living room. He switched on the television and turned on the news, wondering if there would be any news of Jessica’s abduction. It had been a while, but there might be updates. He also pulled out his phone and checked some news websites for international news. He found little blurbs about her here and there, but it was in the American news he found the longest article.

Twenty three year old Jessica Allen of Middletown, Delaware. He smiled as he read it. As he was reading the article about her life back in Delaware he heard her name on the television. He looked up in time to see the news cut to her crying mother, begging anyone who knew anything to go to the police. Her voice was dubbed over in German, but her pain was still palpable.

It did absolutely nothing to affect Max. He felt nothing as he watched it. It was times like these he wondered if there was something wrong with him. He chalked it up to the knowledge that Jessica belonged to him, and he would feel nothing for someone that would take her away from him. He shut the TV off when he felt his anger getting the best for him and went back to the kitchen. He left his phone on the counter as he collected the rice. If she discovered he had a phone on his person she might have no qualms about hurting him, thinking she could call for help. He checked to make sure the rice was cold, grabbed a bottle of water and then went to the basement. As he descended the stairs he could hear her sniffling and the moment that his foot made a loud noise on the steps she began to call for him.

“Master? Master, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry,” she begged and he smiled. She sounded so pretty when she begged. It sent blood rushing to his cock. He rounded the corner and saw her in the little cage. She was rubbing her thighs together and biting her lower lip hard. “Master please, I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Do you,” he murmured and then added coldly. “Better not piss yourself.”

He examined her throat. He could see the chafing around her skin and knew she had been in and out of consciousness. He was glad he had secured the bar around her middle when he left. Had he not, she no doubt would have strangled herself. Her legs were trembling and only partially from her full bladder. He was once again struck with the weight she was losing. Her body was working overtime to keep up its energy, she was working on little sleep, and she had not had a lot in her system while she was drugged in Belko’s warehouse. He would need to get more nutrients into her soon. One more day withholding food would suit her.

“I’m trying really hard not to, please, please, let me use the toilet,” she begged and he placed the rice on the table. If it was not for the fact that he was decidedly not in the mood to clean up afterward, he would let her piss herself. The humiliation would be worth it. But he detested the smell and went over to remove her from the cage. He was pleased when she immediately went to her hands and knees and kissed his shoes. He would have relished it longer, but he could see her trembling and nudged her away.

“Crawl to the left corner,” he ordered and followed her. He enjoyed watched her crawl, but her bottom was too bruised to really arouse him. He did not like seeing his property that marked up. He opened the door he had directed her too and she crawled inside. “In the corner, crouch over the drain.”

He knew she was confused. She had seen the toilet in the room he had her shower in, but good girls got to use toilets. She looked up at him, eyes wet, cheeks tear stained, lower lip trembling. His cock twitched and he motioned with his chin toward the corner. He could see her consider protesting, but she hung her head and obeyed. As she prepared herself she looked up at him. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. He did not find any pleasure from it, but he knew little would humiliate a slave more than being observed going to the bathroom. She hung her head again as she began to urinate and he waited.

“Is there any… Master, May I please have something…”

He looked at her a moment and then stepped inside, picking up a hose. She yelped as he sprayed her with the cold water, focusing on her legs and pussy. As he did he examined her. She could go a day without a shave and still be acceptable to him. Once he was pleased she was sufficiently hosed down he turned off the water and ordered her to crawl back to the cage. As she obeyed he grabbed some rope from the table. As he turned he saw her fall to the ground, unable to support herself. Her arms and legs were shaking as she lay against the ground. Her back rose and fell as she struggled to regain her breathing. The journey from the little closet back to her cage had taken a lot out of her. He grabbed her by the arms and yanked them behind her back, yanking her up to her knees. He had to hold her there for a few moments. She struggled to steady herself and he waited silently while she did. Now steady on her knees he tied her hands behind her back. She kept her eyes lowered, but he did not know if it was more out of submission or in order to hide her anger and hatred from him. Right now he did not care. It was early yet and no matter what, this was an improvement. He then went back and grabbed the bowl of cold, plain rice. He placed it in front of her and ordered her to eat. She looked up at him, pulling gently at her binds.

“If you want to eat, then eat,” he said curtly. She nodded, shivering, a tear dripping from her eyes. She did her best but it was difficult for her. She nearly fell a few times but he caught her before she could hit the ground. He kept a grip on her shoulders as she hunched over the bowl and watched as some rice fell to the carpet. “Every piece of rice that falls on the floor will get you a lash.”

He heard a little sob leave her and his lips tightened into a thin line. She finished the bowl and looked to the ground, counting the grains of rice that had fallen. He looked at her abused bottom, wondering how exactly he could do this without hurting her too badly, when she lowered her mouth to the carpet and began eating the grains off the floor. He could not keep the little satisfied smirk from his face.

“Gutes Mädchen,” he purred, rubbing the sides of her arms gently. When she was finished she looked up at him, fearful he would be angry. “What am I Master of, slave?”

“My body and soul. You’re the Master of my body and soul,” she told him. He removed his belt, relishing the fear in her eyes, and looped the belt around her neck. He stepped up to her, keeping her face against his trouser clad erection, but her chin angled upward so she could look at him.

“This is where you belong,” he told her. “Right here.”

She nodded and he leaned down to grab the bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap and brought it to her lips. She began drinking it, sucking it down fast and he pulled it back.

“Not so fast. Your stomach will cramp up.”

She nodded again and drank more slowly. He stopped her when the bottle was half empty. He did not want to overload her with water. He did not know a whole lot about the human body, but he had owned a few slaves. He had made the mistake once of letting one overload with water after keeping it from her and she had gotten violently ill, her muscles at cramping up.

He let the belt drop and pushed her to the floor. She cried out in surprise and stayed sprawled there a moment.

“Get up,” he ordered and she struggled with her bound hands to get up. The moment she was up, he nudged her with a neatly polished black shoe. She fell again. He laughed as she struggled to get up. She got back up to her knees and looked up at him. “We will go over rules today. Over to the hitching post. Over there in the corner.”

She looked and crawled over on her knees. He walked close behind her, but did not help her as she fell to the ground. He watched her struggle to get up, saw the trembling over her weak muscles. It was when it became clear that she was not going to be able to get up by herself that he got her back onto her knees. He left her by the hitching post on her knees, and went to go get a knife. She gasped when he cut through the ropes holding her arms behind her back.

“Crouch down on the wooden platform,” he ordered and she obeyed, her thighs already trembling. He wondered how long it would take for her to collapse. He clasped her wrists with handcuffs and then hooked her to a metal loop on top of the wooden post sticking out of the platform. The post was between her knees and he moved her so she balanced on the balls of her feet. She tugged on the handcuffs to test them out, but she could not move them away from the post. Her knees kept bending, and one foot gave out from underneath her, but he went over and corrected the position. He grabbed a flogger and walked back over to her, circling her and enjoying the look of her bound to the post. She winced in pain as her muscles burned but she managed to stay on her feet this time.

“I want you to repeat after me,” he told her. “I obey my Master.”

“I obey my Master,” she said and he swung the flogger to gently rain the leather strips over her shoulder blades. She tensed but did not cry out. He was not hitting her hard enough to cause anymore than a subtle stinging.

“I serve my Master,” he said.

“I serve my Master,” she repeated and he swung the flogger again at the same strength.

“I please my Master,” he said and she nodded.

“I please my Master,” she repeated and tensed for the flogger.

“Now all three,” he said and waited.

“I obey my Master. I serve my Master. I please my Master,” she said, arching her neck to look up at him. He hit her with the flogger each time she spoke and she shivered. Her thighs were trembling and she bit her lower lip hard. He could see the muscles in her thighs working to hold her weight and he looked over her tightly shaped ass. She was in wonderful shape, no doubt due mostly to all the walking she had been doing around Europe. It was probably the only reason she was even able to stand right now.

“Again,” he said and she repeated it back to him.

“I obey my Master, I serve my Master, I please my Master,” she spoke, her voice breathy and trembling.

“I worship my Master,” he told her.

“I worship my Master,” she repeated.

“Now everything together,” he told her.

“I obey my Master. I serve my Master. I please my Master. I worship my Master,” she breathed and he swung the flogger each time she spoke.

“What am I master of?”

“You are the Master of my body and soul.”

She leaned back, relieving some pressure from her thighs, using the post to hold her up. He swung the flogger, this time hitting her harder across her back.

“Up straight,” he said curtly and she shifted again. She fell though, her legs giving out from beneath her and she let out a little sob. No doubt she expected a terrible punishment. He sighed and moved to kneel behind her, holding her up against his back. She leaned into him then, and he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him. “Better?”

“Yes, Master,” she breathed. “Thank you.”

He snaked a finger between her thighs and rubbed her clit with his fingers. She moaned and laid her head back on his shoulder.

“Repeat it back to me,” he said softly in her ear as he rubbed her pussy.

“I obey my Master, I serve my Master, I please my Master, I worship my Master,” she said, biting back a low moan.

“Who is your Master?” he asked her, cupping a breast with his other hand.

“You are. You’re my Master,” she breathed.

“And what am I Master of?”

He slipped a finger inside of her and pinched a nipple. She was leaned against him, her arms outstretched and yanking at her handcuffs.

“My body and soul,” she groaned. One finger slid in and out of her, while her thumb messaged her clit gently. She moaned, tensed, and her hips bucked. Her juices slid down his hand and he smirked into her hair, breathing in her scent.

“What do you do for your Master?” he breathed into her ear. He tugged and tweaked at a nipple.

“I serve my Master, I obey my Master, I please my Master, I worship my Master,” she choked out and he pinched a nipple hard. She cried out in pain.

“Correct the order, slave,” he ordered and she thought a moment.

“I obey my Master, I serve my Master, I please my Master, I worship my Master,” she corrected herself. He messaged her reddened nipple.

“Good girl,” he purred. “Good little girl. Moan for me.”

She moaned and he slipped another finger inside of her.

“Beg for it, slave,” he ordered. “Beg for your relief.”

“Please Master,” she begged. “Please, oh God, please. I obey you, I serve you, I please you, I worship you.”

“Yes,” he hissed in her ear. His cock was straining against his trousers and pressed against her abused bottom. He watched her lips part, her cheeks flush. He heard her working up for an orgasm, her body trembling. He could see it in her face. He pulled his fingers away from her and stood, leaving her to support herself. She closed her eyes and silent tears dripped down her cheeks as she realized he was not going to let her climax.

“If you orgasm you get forty smacks with the cane,” he threatened. He uncuffed her from the post and brought her over to a small dog cage. She would not be able to remain standing, but he did not want her comfortable either.

“I obey my Master,” she murmured as he opened the cage door. She crawled inside and immediately fell to the ground.

“I serve my Master,” she breathed..

“I please my Master,” she said when he did locked the cage with a padlock.

“I worship my Master,” she spoke and it sounded like a plea. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. Her brown eyes looked almost green when she cried.

“Keep saying that,” he told her. “I want to hear it when I come back.”

“Yes, Master,” she said. “Please don’t leave.”

He smiled softly and reached through the bars, touching her cheek gently.

“Say it to me again,” he told her.

“I obey my Master, I serve my Master, I please my Master, I worship my Master,” she breathed. “You are the Master of my body and soul.”

“I’ll be good now, Master,” she promised. “I’ll be good now.”

“You will,” he agreed. “You will.”

He stepped back and stood.

“No, Please!” she called after him, her voice cracking. “My legs… please!... You can’t!”

He stopped in his tracks, freezing halfway to the stairs.

“I can’t?” he asked, not looking back at her. “I… can’t?”

“I didn’t mean it like that… please, Master, please I didn’t mean it like that.”

He ignored her. He could not even hear her. He was furious. He felt the anger course through his muscles as he turned back, stopping in front of the cage. He looked at her through the bars and his eyes were on fire.

“Did you say I can’t?”

He spit the word out in disgust. She looked at him, eyes wet, shaking her head. He saw tears dripping down her cheeks and the desire to hurt her left him. He was furious, livid even, but he did not have it in him to cause her anymore pain. He wanted obedience and submission, he did not want to cause her any more pain than was necessary. He held a hand up, pointing at her, but said nothing. He had trouble finding words. His fury was competing with the feelings that stirred in his chest as he looked into her wet, sad, frightened eyes. He wanted to be the one that protected her, that made her feel good. He did not like being the one to torment her. He remembered the smile she had in her photographs. He reached out and touched her trembling lips and gently caressed the skin with his finger tips. He leaned in close, speaking in a hushed voice, not even noticing he had switched back to German.

“You do not tell me I can’t,” he told her softly. “I can do whatever I want. Whatever I want. It is you that can’t unless I decide otherwise. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t tell me I can’t,” he said, his own voice trembling, indicating his anger.

“I’m sorry, I know I can’t Master, I didn’t mean in it like that,” she pleaded. “I swear I didn’t mean it.”

He nodded, stroking her cheek gently.

“Never again,” he told her.

“Never again,” she agreed. He backed out of the cage and closed it. She said nothing this time as he left and he walked up the stairs, once again leaving her alone.