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The Dark Tales of HG – Master

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Helena’s finger ran along the edge of the silver bangle as she listened to Charles talk – or rather, heard his voice but paid little attention to the words.  A polite ripple of laughter ran through those assembled and she smiled along with them.

He was standing at the back of the room.  She could feel his eyes on her but she didn’t lift her own gaze to meet them. 

It had been over a week since he had … what?  As a wordsmith surely she would have been able to come up with a description for what he had done.  Tricked her?  Kidnapped her?  Chained her?  Beat her?  Pleasured her?  She had had dark dreams every night since.  Had awoken, sweating, fearful and aroused every time.  She had pleasured herself on the fourth night … and then the fifth … and after every dream thereafter.  She had gasped and sobbed into her pillow, eyes screwed tightly shut as she lay on her front , hand squeezed tight between convulsing thighs.  She had pleasured herself in the past – but it had never felt so good.  But then, she had been with men in the past and they had not pleasured her as intensely as he had.  It had been a dark, painful and pleasurable experience with him.  One she could never have imagined in her wildest dreams but now one that she couldn’t stop dreaming about. 

She had considered how she would react upon seeing him again – she was sure that he would appear at her home at some point, as he had on several occasions in the past.  Would she be afraid?  Angry?  Would she run immediately to Charles and tell him what he had done – make him confront him?  Or maybe she would throw herself upon Vincent’s mercy and beg him to save her from him .. from herself.  But she hadn’t.  She had been surprisingly calm, barely looking in his direction.  Perhaps all the time she had spent pretending in front of Charles’ friends and fans had stood her in good stead for this.  As if all the time she had kept her true emotions and thoughts hidden was now enabling her to keep herself distanced from what he had done.  Helped her to keep the memories of his actions and her reactions confined to her dreams and her bed with the sweat soaked sheets.

She had become distracted by a pretty little blonde who was playing idly with a thin, bow-shaped necklace.  Her eyes had travelled down to the barely matured chest, hidden with the lines of her dress and bodice.  Pleasant thoughts curled her lips slightly and she gave a relaxed sigh.

She felt something brush her hand and looked down.  A single male finger was slipped in the gap between the bangle and her wrist.  She smelt him then.  His scent had been powerful in her dreams too.  He lifted her wrist a tiny amount and then released her.  The movement had been so quick, so subtle, that no one else would have even seen it.  She even wondered herself if she had imagined it.  If it had been a mere accident as he walked past her.  But then he looked briefly over his shoulder.  His eyes cold.  Expectant.   She lowered her gaze.  She had been summoned.

He walked casually down the hall, glancing up the stairs as if admiring the décor.  The huge staircase had created a large space beneath – dark and private.  She followed him into the shadows.  She was grabbed by firm hands, spun and pushed back against the wall.  She gasped as her back slammed against the solid wall but his had clamped harshly over her mouth, silencing her.  His other had reached down, lifting her skirts and searching beneath.  He scowled angrily when he felt her undergarments.  Shaking his head with displeasure, her retrieved his hands and let her dress fall back down.  His fingers dug into her shoulders as her forced her to her knees. 

  You will not wear anything beneath your dress,’ he hissed angrily, ‘Your body must be available to me at all times.’

She bowed her head, ‘Yes …’

His fist twisted painfully in her hair, ‘Yes …’

  ‘Master …’ she whispered.

  ‘I will send a carriage for you tonight – you will come to me to be punished for this indiscretion.’

  ‘Yes … Master …’

  ‘In the meantime …’ his hands unfastened his trousers, ‘… open your whore mouth.’

She did her best to please him but was less experienced with how to pleasure men in this way and it quickly became clear that he was unimpressed with her efforts.  Grunting with annoyance, he gripped her head and held her still as he thrust into her.  He made her gag when he entered her too deeply and hissed for her to be quiet.  But he eased his thrusts a little and a few moments later he grunted.  She grimaced at the feel and taste of his come but swallowed as best she could and tried to ignore the nausea that rolled through her stomach.

  ‘That requires improvement,’ he told her as he refastened his clothes and waved for her to stand.  ‘Sort your hair,’ he commanded.

She reached up, feeling for the strands that had come loose in his fists.  Once adjusted, he nodded and turned away, strolling confidently back to the lounge.

She stood for a moment, hand on her chest as she tried to steady her breathing and her racing heart.  She checked quickly that no one was around and hurried to the stairs, climbing them quickly and going into her room.  She hurried to the bed, hands lifting her dress and scrabbling beneath to remove her undergarments.  She cast them aside and fell onto the bed, lifting one foot to rest on the mattress.   The memory of his fingers twisting in her hair and the feel of his cock sliding over her tongue made her whimper.  She slid her hand between her thighs and groaned at the first touch of her fingers to her wet lips.  She would have to hurry – she would surely be missed soon.  Her head tipped back as she slid two fingers into herself, thrusting hard and fast.  She gritted her teeth against the cry that almost escaped.  A few more thrusts and her hips suddenly bucked up as she moaned and quivered.

 

*

 

  ‘You pleasured yourself …’ it was a statement not a question and she felt a surge of fear spike through her. 

  ‘I … I … I went upstairs to take off my …’ her quavering voice stopped as his cold eyes fixed on her.  She looked away, swallowing nervously.

He stepped forward, hand lifting to set the empty chains swinging.  ‘You … pleasured … yourself …’

 She nodded slowly, keeping her eyes downcast, staring at her hands that had started trembling. 

His eyes narrowed with anger as she looked her up and down.  ‘Remove your clothes …’

She did as he commanded, shivering as her skin became exposed to the cold chill of the cavernous space.  He circled her, head and eyes lifting up and down as he studied her.  She knew that she still wore the ghosts of his previous attentions.

  ‘Did you go to work?’

Her eyes lifted briefly, ‘Work?’

He paused, finger going to her chin and lifting her head, ‘I know all about the Warehouse and what they do.  I am also fully aware of their misguided notion to have a …’ he looked her up and down, ‘… whore-woman working there.’

A flash of anger passed through her eyes but she lowered her gaze quickly for fear he would see it. 

  ‘Answer me …’ he said harshly, hand dropping to grip and twist her nipple.

  ‘No …’ she gasped, ‘… I have not been to work since …’ she stopped.

  ‘Your lessons …’ he finished for her, ‘Hmmm, perhaps I should repeat those lessons as a way to keep you from the Warehouse and in your proper place,’

She felt anger rise like nausea in her throat.  She had worked hard to be accepted at the Warehouse and even now struggled to be seen as equal to the men.  She worked twice as hard to be seen as half as good – it was a constant frustration and to hear him say that she had no place there made her want to scream in his face.  But she didn’t.  She just stood, naked, eyes downcast.  Why?  What the hell was she doing ?

  ‘Step beneath the chains,’ he told her abruptly, ‘it is time for your punishment.’

She didn’t have to walk forward.  She didn’t have to stand dumbly and lift her hands so he could snap the cuffs round her wrists.  But she did and she stood quietly as he moved to the shadows.  Stood quietly to await the punishment for indiscretions she had not been told existed.  The sound of a handle being turned tightened the chains above her and her hands were lifted, arms straightening.  She felt the pull on her arms and lifted slightly onto toes. 

He reappeared, flogger held in one had, cane in the other.  ‘A first transgression brings ten with the flogger … the second, brings fifteen with the cane.’

She stared at the ground, fresh memories of the feel of both the flogger and the cane bringing tears to her eyes.  But why was she letting him do this?  Had she really done anything wrong?  Yet here she was, ready to accept punishment for something he had deemed a failure.

  ‘A whore who takes her punishment well … who counts each blow and accepts the pain with dignity … may well find herself rewarded.’

 A quivering heat expanded quickly from her centre and she closed her eyes for an instant, her breath quickening.  The answers to her questions now clear but no less confusing.

  ‘Open your legs,’ he commanded and the moment she managed to part her thighs a little and he slipped the cane between them.  ‘Legs together …’  She trapped the thin wood between her upper thighs as he added, ‘… drop it and five blows will be added.’

It was perhaps the thought that he would withhold any reward, rather than any additional punishment, that kept her thighs pressed tightly together as she counted through the first blows of the flogger.  He paused after five lashes across her buttocks, adjusted his position and sent a sixth, harder blow, to her reddened flesh. 

  ‘Six …’ she gasped, gritting her teeth as she waited for the next.  It came quick enough and she gasped her way through the rest of the count.

  ‘Open your legs …’ the command was made and she obeyed.  He lifted the cane between them, lip curling in distaste at the wetness where it had been close to her sex.  ‘A whore does not enjoy her punishment,’ he told her, ‘Five more lashes.’

She swallowed and nodded.  He pushed the flogger between her thighs and as she was about to close her legs she felt the tip pushing at her sex.  She groaned loudly as he pushed the handle into her tight sex. 

  ‘Do you want more lashes than already decided, whore?’

She shook her head, ‘No, Master,’

He looked down at the leather strands squashed between her thighs and then back at her, ‘Then you best make sure that stays in your whore-sex.’

She nodded, ‘I will, Master,’

He snorted with derision, ‘Well, we shall have to see, won’t we?’

 

The first blow of the cane sliced under her buttocks and lifted her even higher on her toes.  She gasped, ‘One …’ as she stumbled slightly and fought to regain her balance.  ‘Two … three …’ her voice became progressively louder with each blow that was delivered to the underside of her buttocks, ‘… four … ah! Five!’

He was nodding as her walked around to her front, cane bent between his large hands.  Her downward gaze caught sight of the growing bulge at the front of his trousers and the pain at her buttocks was eased slightly by the sudden throb at her sex.

The cane sliced across the front of her thighs and she gave a small cry, half stumbling backwards.  She twisted, keeping her thighs squeezed tightly together.  ‘Six … seven!’  The eighth and nineth came in quick succession and then he moved so her could deliver the tenth with a vicious back hand, ‘God!  Ten!’ 

Her body quivered, sweat beading along her skin as she struggled to call out the numbers while focusing on keeping the handle of the whip tight inside her quicky moistening pussy.  She moaned and hung her head as he moved to stand behind her, hands clenching into fists.  He ran the length of the cane along her lower back, a cruel move to entice her nerve endings to life.  After several gentle, igniting strokes, he delivered a blow that made her scream as her back arched.

  ‘Well?’ he demanded.

She coughed, ‘Eleven …’

He beat her harshly, purple lines quicky marring her skin and making her sob the numbers her wanted to hear.  At the twentieth, she sobbed loudly and shook her head as she moved to stand in front of her, ‘Master … please …’ she whispered, ‘… a moment to catch my breath … please …’

  ‘Catch your breath?’ he demanded harshly, ‘This is a punishment, whore!  Or have you forgotten?’  He used the end of the cane to lift her chin, ‘You will repeat after me …’  He stepped back and lifted the cane, bringing it slicing across the centre of her breasts, ‘I will not wear undergarments …’

The scream dried her throat and she had to lick her lips before whispering, ‘I will not wear undergarments …’

  Swish.  Snap.

  ‘I will not take pleasure that is not given to me …’

  ‘I will … not take pleasure that it not … given to me …’

  Swish.  Snap.

  ‘Again …’

She repeated the words in a stuttering pattern of gasps.

  Swish.  Snap.

  Swish.  Snap.

He leant closer, ‘Have you learnt your lesson, whore?’

She nodded vigorously, ‘Yes, Master, I promise.’

  ‘Good, then continue the count from fifteen,’

She bit back the sob of despair and forced herself to focus on counting.  Her breasts were ablaze, the fire adding to the scorching pain that still seared her buttocks and thighs.  By the time she screamed, ‘… Twenty! …’ the pain at her breasts was a numbing agony that made her weep.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied and he reached to pull the flogger from her and studied the soaking handle briefly before casting it aside.  Through misted vision she watched him shed his lower clothes.  Her heart started to pound against her chest as she longed to feel his length sliding into her.  She told herself that it was to feel relief from the pain rather than release from the throbbing arousal that was almost unbearable.  She cried out as his body pressed against hers, his chest crushing her wounded breasts.  Then she screamed as his large hands reached round to grip her buttocks, pulling her tight against his hard cock.  He moved his hips, sliding himself up and between her lips and over her stomach.  His fingers moved painfully down her thighs and, with a sudden show of strength, her lifted her.  Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his hips and he pushed into her with a grunt.  Her head fell back, mouth open, eyes wide and tearful.  Satisfied that she would hold herself up, his hands went to her breasts and kneaded the bruised flesh.  She groaned loudly, body quivering with pain and need.  And then he started to thrust with earnest and she was lost to the maelstrom of sensations that bombarded her.  Her vision swam as her body was enveloped by waves of delight as he pounded into her.  His hand suddenly moved lower, a hard fingers pressing between her lips to rub at her clit.  Her hips buckled uncontrollably as her body convulsed.  Her eyes suddenly widened at the sheer intensity of the sensations.

  ‘Master …’ she half cried, half sobbed with fear, ‘… oh … God! …’

Her fear kept her climax at bay.  The pleasure was so intense that she was afraid she would lose her mind if she fell over the precipice he had pushed her to the edge of.  He lifted his other hand to her mouth and nodded for her to suck his index finger.  She did so, wetting the digit with her tongue without questioning why.  He then moved his hand down and pressed the tip at her tight entrance.  Her eyes widened and she shook her head fearfully.  His smile was unpleasant as he slid his finger into her anus.  She screamed as the pleasure crested and ripped through her.  Her body moved of its own accord, her mind disconnected from it.  Any conscious thought was lost to the crippling desire and release.  Her eyes rolled as her mouth opened in a silent scream and her legs tightened around him, making him grunt.  He thrust hard into her, touching something deep inside that made her convulse briefly before she was suddenly blinded by stars exploding in her vision.  And then her body fell limp and boneless as her head fell forward, eyes fluttering and closing.

She felt his hot come filling her arse a moment before she realised he was fucking her there.  And then he was pulling free and seemingly a moment later she was being lowered.  She tried to get her feet under her but her legs wouldn’t hold her and she ended up on her knees, hands still chained over her head.  He released her wrists and she collapsed onto her front, gasping and rolling onto her side when her bruised breasts were crushed beneath her.

  ‘On your knees, hands behind your back!’

She struggled into position, wincing as she crossed her wrists behind her back, pressing over the bruised lines.

His finger lifted her chin, ‘Have you learnt your lessons?’

She nodded, ‘Yes, Master, thank you for teaching me.’

His eyebrow lifted slightly at her response and she nodded as of coming to a decision, ‘You will join me next week at my club, I think I should like to show you off.’

A cold layer of fear settled over her skin but it was matched by a sudden warmth of excitement that rolled through her insides.  His club … surely that meant more people.  Men like him?  Women like her?

  ‘Yes, Master … thank you.’

His smile was sinful, ‘Oh … you will.’