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Bought and Paid For

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Maximilian watched her as she finished brushing her teeth. She held her damp hair back and spit into the sink, her small naked body covered with bruises and shivering slightly from the cold air. He watched a droplet of water drip down the side of her breast, following her soft curves, sliding over her thighs, and finally touching the ground.  As he looked at her, the sweet little thing she was, he could hardly believe that she truly belonged to him. No woman he had ever owned was so perfect a slave, and the fact that she was not even completely broken in yet, made it all the better. He could hardly imagine what it would be like when she finally submitted to him, when she finally saw that her self-worth was only what he saw in her, that he was the most important aspect of her life and deserved to be worshiped accordingly. 

When she had awoken him in the morning he had been curt with her, but only because she had woken him from a wonderful dream. He had been pleased with her for not getting out of bed and using the bathroom without his permission, but even her obedience could not outweigh his disappointment of being wakened.  Rarely did he have such perfect dreams and being awoken from it so prematurely had irked him something terrible. Though, he had to admit, waking with the object of his dream in his arms helped abate his disappointment slightly.

He had dreamed  he returned from a long business trip. He entered the country house to the smiling face of his ecstatic and obedient slave. She fell to her hands and knees as he entered, pressing her lips to his shoes before straightening up on her knees and wrapping her arms around him, holding him close. He had lead her into the kitchen where she had a meal all ready for him. She asked him about his trip as she served him and as he ate, she rubbed his shoulders and stroked his hair, and told him how perfect he was and how desperately she had missed him. He could still remember the sweet look on her face as she kneeled down by his chair, expressing her love and devotion to him. Waking up from her never ending professions of devotion had been a severely disappointing development.

He relived her sweet little words of love as he watched her rinse her mouth with some water from the tap before she wiped her mouth clean. She turned to face him, smiling softly, her bruised and cut mouth drawing his eyes. He stepped toward her and raised his hand, gently running his fingers over the abused flesh. As he did he looked toward the mirror to survey his own fading bruises. It was a dull yellowish-green now, and the swelling was completely gone, but he assumed it would still be a few days before the visible signs were completely gone.                      

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly and he looked from his reflection back to her. He smiled softly and touched her lips, running his finger tips over the split lip. Timidly, fearfully, she reached her own hand up toward his face and gently touched the bridge of his nose. The soft, nearly reverent touch, made his smile widen slightly and he waited, eyeing her face intently. “That man said I was ungrateful. I’m not anymore. I see now.”

He said nothing and gently smoothes down her damp hair with his hand. He enjoyed having her like this. Sweet, obedient, timid. This was how a woman should act in the presence of a man, especially a man that owned her.  He remembered the look on his father’s face the day he told him that his mother had left them. He remembered the way his father would come back from work and drink well into the night, and he remembered the day his father stopped working all together. She had been the first woman to ever do him such terrible wrong, but she would not be the last. All women were the same, and they all needed to be put into their proper place or they would do nothing but cause pain. As he thought of all the women in his early life he felt a painful, hateful rage swell up in his chest. He saw Jessica’s face collapse from fear and he realized his face had taken on a scornful scowl.

“You’ve been a good girl,” he told her and her little face brightened. He could not help but return the little smile. “I only hope that your disposition will not change.”

“It won’t,” she assured him, gripping his shirt in tight fists. “I realize now how lucky I am. I’m lucky you were the man to buy me, and that I could be with a man that would do terrible things to me.”

He cupped her cheek and stroked the smooth skin. He only looked at her for a few moments. He needed to look at her, see her small fragile and battered body, and know she was his, submissive and not going anywhere. It calmed him some and he gently stroked her face, patted her hair, and ran his hands up and down her arms. She was a magnificent  purchase. He remembered how he had felt when he first saw her on that train, how perfect he knew she was even then, but now, having her here, having paid for her, fucked her, and made her his completely, she was so much better. She was beyond all imagination. And now it seemed she was coming to terms with the fact that she was nothing more than an object to own and use. A sweet little toy for him to find pleasure in. Someone to worship him and love him and never, ever, ever leave him.

He saw her grimace slightly and realized he had been squeezing her arms tightly. He released her and saw the red hand printed left behind on her soft flesh. She tried to smile at him, but he saw the way her hands jerked slightly. She stopped herself before rubbing the newly abused flesh, and he saw the fear in her eyes. He enjoyed fear, there should always be fear, but he remembered the way he felt in his dream, seeing her devotion and love in her eyes. He wanted to see love in her big brown eyes. He needed it.

“Go to the bed, lay down on your stomach,” he told her and she hurried to obey. He turned to watch her go, and when she thought he was not looking she rubbed her arms. He felt slightly guilty as he watched, knowing she had not deserved the hard squeeze, that a good master only punished their slave when they deserved it, a concept many did not subscribe to as he did. Still, he pushed it to the back of his mind, reminding himself she was property, valuable property, but property. He grabbed the first aid kit from the top of the medicine cabinet and walked toward the bed where she was obediently laying on her stomach.

He sat down beside her and examined her skin as he opened the plastic box. The bruising was not nearly as bad as it had been the night before, and not nearly as angry, but he saw more clearly now just how hard she had really been hit. The skin had simply split open under the force and despite Ulrik’s assurances he was frightened it might leave a little scar. He ground his teeth as he realized even if it did scar, there was little he could do. Ulrik had paid him for the damage. He owed him nothing for the girls emotional damage. In the circles he ran in,  a woman’s emotions meant absolutely nothing. Their feelings, quite simply, were of little importance, if any, to many, many men like him.

She moved her face so she could look toward him and he glanced down at her face briefly. As they made eye contact she smiled softly at him but he did not return it this time. He picked up a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and looked at it a moment, sighing softly.

“This will sting,” he told her and she nodded, squeezing her eyes shut and tensing. He avoided pouring it into the actual would. He had made sure she cleaned it thoroughly with warm water during her shoulder, but made sure to get some of the skin surrounding the cut. Next he added a thin layer of an antibiotic cream. “Get onto your knees, don’t sit.”

She obeyed and he grabbed the bruise cream from the box. She obeyed, but he immediately saw her thighs begin to tremble. She still looked so tired and so weak, but he did not want her sitting on the abused skin. He gently rubbed the cream into the purple bruise on her face and then applied some medicinal chap stick to her lips.

“Thank you, master,” she said softly as he closed up the first aid kit.

“One does maintenance on a car, do they not?” he asked and watched her face fall and her eyes lower to the ground. She only nodded and he saw tears swell in her eyes but they did not fall. He reached up and touched her cheek, looking at her with a growing warmth in his chest. “Does that bother you?”

She shook her head but could not meet his eyes.

“You will look at me, you will use your words, and you will not lie,” he told her sharply and she obeyed.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered, voice cracking.

“Why?” he asked.

“I thought you were doing it because you c-cared about me,” she said and struggled to keep her eyes raised.

“Have you ever had a car you loved?” he asked and she her abused lips trembled.

“I’m not a car,” she said pathetically, looking up at him just as one fat tear dripped from her eyes.

“No… you are a woman,” he agreed, snapping the plastic tabs of the first aid kit. “I hardly know which one has less worth.”

When he returned from putting the first aid kit away she was still on her knees where he had left her, but frantically trying to wipe away her tears.

“You will wash the cream away,” he scolded and she nodded frantically apologizing as she tried to regain control of herself. He knelt down in front of her, gently taking her face in his hands. He smiled softly as he looked into her sad face and she glanced up timidly. “You are worthless.”

She sniffled, hiccupped, and her lower lip trembled.

“Would everyone have given up on you so fast if you were not?” he asked and her face crumpled further. She tried to turn her face downward but he forced her head up with a firm grip on her chin. “Tell me if you have worth.”

He waited, wanting to hear her tell him she had none, that she was absolutely nothing. Instead she looked up at him, disobeying his order, but he found no anger. She looked so sad, so beautifully broken, that instead, as he listened to her hurt words and soft voice, he felt warm affection burrow its way into his chest.

“You don’t care about me at all?” she asked. He could hear the plea in her voice, the soft begging for him to tell her he cared. He considered lying and telling her he did not.  It would surely hurt her in her drained and emotional state. The no doubt mind altering affect the pill he had given her had her perfectly pliable. He saw the final blow, the opportunity to crush her spirit once and for all, but the look in her eyes, the pleading, the absolutely dependence on him to tell her he cared had him torn.

The fact was, she did mean something to him. She was an object, something to be owned, but he cared. He feared if he lied now, she would never open herself up to love him the way he needed her to. He reached up and touched her face, gently wiping the fat tears that leaked from her eyes  away with his finger.

“What do you think, slave?” he asked her instead, voice soft, his hands gently caressing her. He saw confusion in her eyes, fear, and uncertainty. Surely his soft words and little caresses, mixed with his words from just moments before had her unsure, and no doubt she feared if she told him she thought he did care she would be punished for disobeying a command to tell him she was worthless. But she also saw the painful horror just beneath the surface of voicing allowed that the only person she had contact with, the only person left on this earth to know she was alive, did not care. Seeing the distress he added, “Answer me honestly, I will not punish you.”

“I want you to care,” she simply whispered. “I… I think you do… sometimes…”

“Sometimes,” he murmured with a little smirk. “And right now?”

She burst into tears, falling back to sit on her feet and covering her abused face with her hands. He smiled as he reached over to collect her in his arms and put her in his lap. He relished the way her hands gripped at his clothing and her small little body pressed into his. She clung to him so desperately, her body trembling as she cried, and he wrapped his arms around her. He gently ran his hand over her hair, pressing her head to his chest gently, all the while softly shushing her.

“Sweet girl,” he cooed softly as she continued to sob. He chuckled softly as she continued to clutch at him. “You cannot get much closer, darling.”

She turned her red, tear stained face up at him, eyes wet and searching.

“Darling?” she asked and he smiled. He touched her face, gently running his knuckles over her cheek. 

“Do you like that?” he asked her softly, lowering his face closer to her. She raised her face to him but he stopped her with two fingers to her lips. “I asked you a question. Do you like that?”

“Yes, Master,” she whispered.

“How about something German? Hmm?” he asked and she nodded. “Schätzchen? Liebchen? Süßling?”

“And gutes Mädchen,” she said softly sniffling.

“Of course,” he said soothingly and she offered him a timid smile. He smiled and ran the back of his fingers over her lips. Her hands kept a firm grip on his shirt and she pulled lightly, scooting closer to him.

“I will serve you, and obey you, and please you, and worship you,” she said quietly, running her fingers over the fabric of his pullover. “…won’t you care about me in return?”

She looked up at him and he frowned.

“I owe you nothing,” he told her sharply, eyes hard once again and panic crossed her face.

“No, no, no, I know, I’m sorry, I know, I’m sorry, Master please –” she said but he quieted her.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her and she paused a moment.

“Do you want me to be hungry?” she asked after a long pause.

“I want you to be honest,” he told her and slowly she nodded. He removed her from his lap and stood. He went to the work bench, but when he turned around and she saw the blindfold and wrist restraints she began to panic again. He said nothing as he knelt down beside her. “Your wrists.”

She obeyed, but her eyes were full of fear. He clasped the leather restraints around her wrists and secured her thumbs with a leather loop. The restraints forced her to keep her forearms together, keeping her mostly immobilized with a very simple restraint. He blindfolded her but made sure he did not look at her. Blindfolded as she was, all he could see was the bruise and split lip, as well as her glistening tears. When he reached down to scoop her up she leaned into him, pressing her blindfolded face into his neck.  She tensed when he climbed the stairs. He pressed the button to the keypad and the door opened. He jostled her slightly as he brought his hand back to get a better grip on her and brought her into the kitchen.

“Stay seated,” he told her as he placed her at the kitchen table and she obeyed silently. She trembled as she sat down and he glanced at her bottom.

“What are you thinking right now, slave?” he asked as he prepared her meal. “Are you thinking that because you are in a kitchen right now, that a knife is in your immediate vicinity? That if you were able to grab it and plunge it into my chest, all you would have to do is pick up the phone five feet to your right, or walk out the front door?”

“No, Master,” she responded hurriedly.

“I don’t believe you,” he replied.

“Truly, Master,” she answered. He looked over to see her knee shaking quickly and her heel bouncing off the floor.

“No? Then what are you thinking of?”

“Honestly, I was thinking about what your house looks like, and that you must have a lot of money, since you were able to buy me and have such a large, finished basement,” she replied and he smiled sourly.

“So like a woman,” he mused. “to think only of money.”

“I don’t care about money. It’s only an observation… Master,” she added.

“Women are whores,” he told her curtly.

“I was a virgin,” she whispered and he looked over to see her face crumple up again.  

“And now you’re my whore,” he replied and she nodded.

“Deine Hure,” she muttered.

Deine?” he asked sharply.

“Ihre!” she corrected herself. “I forget sometimes, we don’t have the formal in English, I just always use the familiar, I’m sorry.”

He said nothing as he placed the plate of food in front of her and sat down.

 “Open.”

She opened her mouth and he fed her. He glanced at the back door and back at her as she chewed. Once she had finished he stood and moved behind her. She shivered as he placed a hand on the back of her neck and leaned down. He pressed his lips to her ear, sucking an earlobe between his lips. She shivered and he smirked.

“Who am I?”

“The Master of my body and soul,” she said softly.

“And what is your purpose in life?” he asked her, nibbling at her earlobe.

“To serve, obey, please and worship,” she replied.

“Hmm,” he breathed and kissed her cheek. “Mein Schätzchen,” he purred and watched her lips turn upward. He nipped her earlobe. “Meine Liebste.”

She turned toward him and turned her face upward. He smiled and placed a kiss to her lips.

“Master,” she breathed and he could not help but smirk. He leaned in, and placed another kiss to her lips.