Untitled (17 page)

    "I said, look at me!"

    Her eyes shot open and landed on his face again, while her fingers continued to heighten her arousal.

    "I can't…" she started to wail.

    "Yes, you can hold back. You know what you face if you don't."

    She succeeded for a while, easing off her stroking fingers and being a little less aggressive as she played, hoping against hope that the torrent of fire in her belly and loins would abate.

    His reprimand came swiftly, "I said, play, Meredith." "B-but—"

    "Hush." He moved forward and clamped his hand over her mouth.

    Meanwhile, her eyes caught something in her peripheral vision. A man. She swore she'd seen a man stopping to watch the scene.

    "Look at me and continue to play."

    The touch of his hand, the closeness of his beating heart, his warm breath on her cheek…the combination was powerful. The determination to hold on suddenly failed her and denying her come proved impossible. Her body careened over the edge, shuddering uncontrollably as her master reached out and held her until the forbidden climax ended.

    Her bleary eyes glanced up enough to see that she'd been right. A man hiking through the woods had stopped to watch and was watching them now.

    "Sir, please. There's someone staring at us," she said, while tucking her head to his chest.

    "Well, they'll get a good show, won't they?" "But, sir—"

    "Let them watch, Meredith. What could be more beautiful than to see a woman in the throes of sexual passion."

    "But I'm so embarrassed."

    "And you'll be even more so."

"Sir?"

    He pushed her from his grasp. By then her clothes had righted: the t-shirt descended on its own and her skirt dropped to cover her pussy. But while she stewed in her embarrassment, Alain quickly worked his way through the nearby brush, slashing switches from scrub trees until he'd bundled several in his fist. He stripped off the leaves, which left small nubs along the otherwise smooth surface.

    "You really…?" she started and stopped. Of course he meant to punish her; her master was consistent if nothing else.

    "You doubt my word?"

    "No, sir."

    "Then turn around."

    This was the only positive thing about the situation: not having to gaze into her master's eyes, or see the stranger when she looked away – although, she still felt those distant eyes burning into her back, and those of her master stirring up the fiery cauldron of her dark desires. One errant climax was hardly enough to ease her physical need and she knew that.

    She turned, suddenly feeling her master's hand push her firmly into the oak.

    "Arms above your head."

    She raised her arms, trembling, knowing the sting of the switches would be great. When he tucked the hem of her skirt into the skirt's waistband and exposed her ass, her present humiliation amplified, bringing tears to her eyes.

    He moved back several steps, took aim, and then started to lash her ass and thighs with the bundle of stinging switches. Each strike felt like a thousand whips landing on her flesh. She writhed miserably, clinging to the tree and tucking her head from sight. Her hot tears streamed down her cheeks.

    The first bright burst of pain was followed by another and another as the switches continued to punish her skin. She gulped back the cries that threatened to issue from her lungs, fearing that she couldn't hold on longer without waging a full scale rebellion.

    At that very moment, as if her master understood her desperate plight, the punishment stopped and a cold chill of relief allowed her body to settle.

    He came to her and held her again, turning her toward him and letting her cry out her emotion. She'd seen the lurking stranger as she turned around, still watching with his eyes fixated on the scene.

    "That man watched the whole thing," she sobbed quietly. "I thought that you wouldn't compromise me like that." She looked at her master for answers. "I thought that was what you agreed to." Her anguish came out like that of a petulant child.

"And I haven't." He brushed a lock of her dark hair off her face, and tenderly stroked
her brow. "The man who watched was a friend, another dominant, who I knew would
appreciate voyeuring our scene."
"Really?"

"Yes, really. I keep my promises, Meredith. Just as I expect you to keep yours."

    She didn't know whether to feel relieved or more distressed by this news. The scene had obviously taken more planning than she thought.

    "Are you going to use me now, too?" she wondered.

    "I'll use you when I decide to. Why don't you let this frantic mind of yours stop for a moment. Give it a rest."

    She'd noted that the stranger had moved on with his hike and she tried to smile. "I'm sorry, I'll try."

    "I know you will." The tenderness in his voice made her melt against him, and for a long time he held her close.

S
CENE
F
OURTEEN

"Oh, babe, have I got plans for you," Perry Livingston came waltzing in the door and stared down at his captured beauty feeling smug and excited both.

    "What kind of plans?" she asked suspiciously. Kat knew to take his declarations with a grain of salt; they could be as terrible as her imagination envisioned or nothing at all. He was such a faker when he wanted to be. But an unbelievably sexy faker.

    "Plans, just plans," he said as he moseyed around the mattress where she spent most of her life. She couldn't remember exactly how many months it had been since she was abducted; every day melted into the next. "We're going to blow this scene for a night. Take a break, screw our heads back on straight and do something
really
outrageous."

    Now she was intrigued. "Like what?"

    "It's a secret, doll. If I told you then it wouldn't be a secret anymore, now would it?" he laughed.

    "No, it wouldn't, Perry. But I'd sure like a peek inside your mind sometime."

    "Aw, you wouldn't like it at all. Insanity isn't pretty."

    "You really think you're insane?"

    "Insanely, madly, deeply in love with you."

    He reeked of mockery, but it was awful fun. He'd been saying this sort of thing a lot lately – that he was in love. Maybe it felt good to her, or maybe it just felt manipulative like all his other behaviors. But she was trapped inside his world and as long as that was, she could do nothing but ride out his many moods the best she could and enjoy the sex, which never disappointed.

    "It's gonna be a night to remember…" he went on. "And don't you worry about trying to escape. With the plans I got I mind, you wouldn't want to miss a trick. " Rescue and escape seemed so far from her thoughts that she couldn't actually remember when the idea last crossed her mind.

    "Yeah, I think I'd like being away from here for a while," she mused.

    "So, you will be. You'll have your fling, then it's the dungeon for you to curb any feeling of entitlement that might get spawned in the process."

    "I didn't know there was a dungeon."

    He snickered. "If I want a dungeon, I'll have one."

    "I see. So, when are we going to
blow this scene
?" she asked.

    "When the time's right." His eyes seemed to glow now in a dangerous way. "In the meantime, I feel like fucking with that pretty ass."

In the previous two weeks, Perry had tiled a five by five foot storeroom across the upstairs hallway from his 'slave's boudoir' – the nickname he currently used to refer to her sleeping, eating and fucking quarters. She'd heard him at all hours of the day and night hammering, cutting tiles and grunting when he was doing heavy lifting. But until he led her across the hall to the finished lavatory she had no idea what he had planned.

    The floor, ceiling and all four walls were covered in white subway tile. A spotlight shined from one corner and in the center of the ceiling was a versatile shower head with a hose and nozzle for hand washing private body parts. There was a drain in the floor underneath a bench type contraption against which she'd be bound.

    "This is for
fucking my pretty ass
," she wondered aloud.

"Gotta clean you out first."

"No, you don't have to clean me out," she blanched.

"But I will."

    Of course, he will. He'll do anything he damn well pleases. He'd said it enough times to have the message emblazoned across her forehead.

    The strange structure in the center of the room was fitted with at least a dozen straps that secured her body upended over its top padded bar. Her knees, which fitted into matching padded stirrups were stretched widely apart and raised enough so that her bottom bobbed high above her waist. Her shoulders, arms and hands, being superfluous to this operation, were safely bound to the bottom of the bench. Once she was securely strapped down, he was ready to
fuck with her pretty ass
.

    She might have recoiled seeing the tools he planned to use…the rubber hoses in various diameters, the strange-headed dildos, anal beads, candles, Tiger Balm and ginger root, not to mention the enormous enema bag, nozzle and hose. Although he was set for a lifetime of anal play with his now favorite slave, the tools escaped her notice before he unceremoniously lifted her up and secured her into position.

    The best tool of all, his cock, was nearly erect through the whole procedure, ready in a pinch to thrust its way to pleasure.

    The warm-up came first in the form of Tiger Balm, which felt like a soothing ointment at first, being initially cold as he rubbed it into her warm anal cavity. But it heated quickly – "Just warming you up," he informed her, when as the minutes ticked by, the heat in her rectum began to rise. While she adjusted to the mounting discomfort, he started with the smallest of the anal probes and worked up to the largest, inserting them one by one and allowing her to seize on the bizarre sensations before he moved on to the next.

    Suddenly it was no longer a dildo invading her ass, but a nozzle from the overhead shower, sending a jet of warm water into her rectum. Her entire body seized up and her belly began to ache. Meanwhile, she'd grown increasingly horny, even though the enema seemed to wash any erotic thought away, supplanting arousal with fear until her lower regions finally began to settle.

    Her master Perry hummed and fumed and smacked her ass, as he continued his work.

    "Gotta wake you up, girl!" he would say jubilantly, while she suffered in silence, or moaned with muted distress. "All it does is wash you clean, sweetheart."

    
No, that wasn't all that the waters were doing, she begged to differ.
Cleansing, maybe. But their powerful force had a greater effect, sending her on a downward spiral that had her thoughtless, lowly, squelched, and humbled far beneath his previous attempts to drive her ego away. She felt so stripped that she couldn't speak.

    Her bottom was full and floating and about to explode when he finally removed the thick nozzle from her rectum and began to spank her in earnest. She was tempted to howl from the depths of her misery, but still felt denied the use of her vocal chords so she kept silent.

    When he changed to a thick wooden paddle, her ass became red and raw, and she squirmed violently with each smack, but still kept her cries subdued. She started to cramp, twisting painfully in an attempt to ease her distress.

    "Geez, doll, you're doing this like a pro!" he drawled.

    At least he stopped the spanking.

    He used the waiting time to take pictures of her upturned behind and lowered head. He even captured a close-up shot of her grimacing facial expression. "You know, if someone wanted to know what agony looks like, he could see it defined in this beautiful brow." Another picture or two and he was done.

    So was she – done with the waters under which she'd been submerged. It took all too long to release her from the bench, and there seemed barely enough time for her to reach the small commode he'd installed in the corner, before her body exploded.

    She quickly expelled the waters, while her master Perry looked on in excited amazement.

    "Now, that's what I mean when I say 'washed clean'," he commented at last, before pulling her back to her feet and returning her to the bench.

    Once she was strapped down again, he carefully washed her bottom with a warm wet rag, his fingers gentle and probing, his touch as kind as she'd ever felt from a man who could be as ruthless as a feral cat.

    Tiger balm again, and then the ginger root heated her inner flesh in ways she'd never felt before. Then dildo after dildo, larger by the minute invaded the space that seemed to widen far beyond what was logically possible. The warm-ups were long and slow, the twisting dildos tortuous, but when the last dildo was finally withdrawn, Perry's fingers took their place. His knuckles followed, then the whole of his hand began the last journey and she finally understood what he was after.