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Claire Reborn Ch. 01

By: HMAuthor



The red-eye from Hong Kong had been late and I was again regretting the flight choice. Deadlines are deadlines though, so I stood waiting for the carousel to show some sign of movement that might indicate baggage handlers attempting to make up for lost time. Fat chance!

A small disturbance to my right caught my ear. "Stupid bitch, whadya mean you lost your purse?" A tall, long-haired goth -- at least that's the effect I thought he was going for -- harangued a petite red-head with her back to me. Her knee-length coat hid the details although her calves did catch my eye, shaped beautifully by three inch heels.

Her voice was soft and I barely caught the words. "I think I left it on the plane, Tony." Head bent, she appeared to be biting her nails. 

He sneered, "Well, good on ya, sweets, I guess that's gone."

She raised a hand as if pleading. "But Tony; my ID; my money. We need to find it." Her voice quavered as if it had taken every ounce of courage to say those few words.

The goth simply snorted derisively at her.

She looked around, as if suddenly very afraid. In that instance her profile struck me. A divine elfin face, pale white, with bright green eyes, but marred by what looked to be a week-old bruise on her left cheek. Neither of them had been on my flight, so I assumed they'd flown in from Frisco, and were waiting for the next carrousel.

Leaning in she whispered something I didn't catch. The effect on the goth was galvanizing. He screeched, "Fuck!", reared back and, with a wide roundhouse, slapped her other cheek knocking her to the floor.

She fell to her side with a faint moan, her coat falling open. She was wearing a short black skirt and white blouse that did little to hide her waif-like figure. At that moment her entire face was visible and I caught a glint of raw lust as she licked her lips, a new bruise starting to form.

"You fucking, stupid cunt!" Looking around he noticed the attention he was attracting, seemed to think better of his actions, reached down and grabbed her upper arm, where the coat had left it uncovered to lift her while twisting his wrist. A brief flicker of agony flashed across the waif's face to be replaced by a look I had learned to recognize.

She enjoyed the pain. Yet, the goth didn't recognize her for what she was. Either that or he didn't value her, which made him a fool.

"Now shut up, bitch, let me think." She stood, eyes downcast, but looking around to see who was watching. He continued to mutter to himself.

As her gaze fell on me I caught her eye, and held it. My face calm, I gave her a knowing smile. She stopped and held my gaze, her eyes widening slightly. Then the carrousels came to life, theirs first then ours.

He jerked her away toward the carousel and began to give her orders I could not hear. Then he headed off, back toward the gates.

She picked a bag off the carousel and placed it at her feet. She looked briefly at me, then her eyes flickered down.

Meanwhile I retrieved my bag, but waited, curious to see what would happen. She picked up a second bag and moved them both over by the wall and stood watching the gate area entrance.

Walking to stand beside her I asked, "Can I help you?"

For a brief moment a glimpse of hope appeared on her face. "I thought... I thought you were... I thought you knew-"

I interrupted, "I knew what?"

She looked at me confused, and the hope went out of her eyes.

From the gate area came a loud ruckus. We could see the goth being dragged toward us by two airport police, kicking and screaming. One held a purse.

The girl moaned, "Oh, God. He'll kill me."

I placed my hand possessively on her shoulder, gripping firmly, and repeated, "Can I help you?"

She seemed to wilt under my touch, but turned and said, "What can you do?"

"You'd be surprised. Come with me. Leave the bags."

"But --"

With steel in my voice, and pulling on her shoulder, I commanded, "Leave the bags!"

She looked up at me in surprise, her cheeks flaming red, and not just from the slap. "Yes, Sir," was all she said.

I pulled her out the door and into the back of my waiting car. As we pulled out, she was looking through the back window of the limo.

"Home first, Peter." I pressed a button and the opaque divider slid up sealing us from the driver.

"Sit over there," I commanded, indicting the opposite rear-facing seat.

She did, removing here shoes and shoving her feet up under herself, leaning to one side. Her eyes stared at the floor.

"Look at me!"

Startled, she looked up, but not into my eyes; more like at my chin.

"I'm up here," I said, while reaching out to tilt her chin upward until she looked me square in the eye.

It was difficult for her. At first she squirmed as my hand continued its grip on her chin. "Stop it. I want to see you." I looked her up and down.

Her cheeks flushed redder, spreading down her neck. Her blouse hung open, a few of the buttons having come undone during our quick dash. Her small breasts, perhaps a B, were pert and hid just out of sight in the folds of her blouse; no bra. Her skirt had slid up, exposing the tops of her stockings, and above that alabaster thighs. Then I noticed, on the insides of her thighs, short, red parallel lines across the thighs; cuts.

"Sacrilege," I thought.

I tore my eyes back to hers, commanding, "Straighten you clothes."

"But... What --"

"DO AS I SAY!"

She recoiled, then quickly buttoned her blouse and pulled her skirt down, drawing a quick gasp as she saw that the cuts had been exposed. She looked up at me as if to say something, but my expression remained rigid as I waited for her to settle herself. Thinking better she settled back into her half-kneeling position.

"What is your name girl?"

"Claire."

"How old are you?

"Twenty."

"Good," I thought. 

"Can I assume you don't want to go back to goth-boy?"

"Who?" She seemed confused at first. "Oh, Tony. No, please no. He'd kill me."

"Why were you with him?"

"We just flew in from San Franciscio, and --"

"Stop! Not why today. Why are you with him at all? Is he your boyfriend?"

"Oh!" She stopped and considered. "Sort of. We did... things for each other. He could be mean, but he took care of me... mostly." At the word "mean" there was a brief look in the eyes, that faded quickly.

"You liked it when he was mean, didn't you?"

This time the flush extended below her neckline. "N... No, it's --"

"Don't lie to me! If you lie to me again, I'll put you out on the side of the freeway."

Her gaze dropping to the floor again, she whispered, "Yes, I liked some of it."

"LOOK AT ME!"

She gasped, but her eyes shot back to mine.

I repeated, "You liked it when he was mean."

Swallowing, her eyes now burning with lust, she said loudly, "I liked it! Then her voice dropped to a whisper, "Some of it anyway." Still her eyes held mine, then dropped as her face flushed red.

"Thank you. The truth is all I ask. Come here!"

She looked up as I indicated the seat next to me, then placed my arm on the seat back.

At first hesitant, she moved to the seat beside me, where I enveloped her in my arm, leaned down and kissed her on the top of her head. She barely came up to my shoulder. Her hair smelled of Apricots and something I could only guess was her natural scent. I found it intoxicating, but remembering she was not yet mine I held back from embracing her further.

I spoke into her ear as she nestled in to my side, "You have a choice, Claire; perhaps the first of many. I can take you anywhere in the city and drop you off. If that is your choice then that will be the end of it, and we will not see each other again. Or, I can take you to my house. You can stay the night. There is no obligation on your part if you do, and I will not take advantage of you. Then tomorrow we can talk."

She looked up at me, questions in her eyes. "Talk about what?"

"You, and me. Mostly you. I sense a something in you, something I think you know, but perhaps don't understand."

"You don't want to fuck me?" There it was, the offer.

"No."

"Why not? I will you know?"

"I'm sure you would, but there are rules about these things, and rules must be followed. I try to respect most people, unless they give me reason not to. I want to respect you."

"But what if I want to fuck you."

"You wouldn't be doing it for the right reasons."

"How do you know? How can you know my reasons."

"Claire, I suspect I know you better than you think. At any rate, I will not make love to you, or as you crudely put it, fuck you. Those are my conditions. After tomorrow, if I am wrong about you, you can leave. If I am right you can still leave, but I think you won't. It is of course your choice. If you leave I will provide you with enough money to get back to San Francisco, or anywhere else in the United States; your choice."

She drew away to the side a bit and looked up directly into my eyes.

"Why? Why would you help me? Why would you do all this? You don't know me."

"I believe I do." I thought of my sweet Serena, gone these two years now. Perhaps fate had dealt me a second chance. "I believe it enough to make you this offer. No strings attached."

She laughed, "Who am I kidding, I've got nowhere to go here. Take me to your house. We'll see how things go." There was a glint in her eye, and for the first time I saw something other than the confused young woman I had discovered. There might yet be a backbone of steel behind that small pale facade.

***

We stopped at my house. I asked Peter to get Claire settled into the guest bedroom. I instructed him to take her shopping for some clothes, and be back by no later than six. I told Claire that she could choose to leave at any time, but if she did so she was never to return.

I then started the drive to my offices, where I was to meet with a client at eleven.

As I drove down from the hills I thought back three years to that day Serena had devastated me. She knelt before me, eyes down, but I sensed something different. There was sadness where normally there would be calm. "Look at me. What is it little one?"

Her eyes rose to meet mine, pools shimmering in them as she said those terrible words, "I have failed you. I have cancer. The doctor says I have less than six months to live."

My mind refused to hear what she said. I sat there stunned. She rose slightly as if to touch me, then remembered herself and settled down, and said simply, "Master, how may I serve you?" It was her way of saying she was concerned.

I rose from my chair, and lifting her in my arms, I carried her up the stairs and took her to bed. We lay for many hours talking, long into the night. It was inoperable, a brain tumor. It explained the strange symptoms she had been having. She was afraid of dying, but more, she was sorry she would no longer be able to serve me.

As for me, I was lost. My little Serena, how could she be dying? It seemed so unfair. She had just begun to blossom. I loved her, although I had never said this to her. It would not have been appropriate.

For the first time in a very long time we made love, not as master and slave, but as two equals. After we both came I stayed in her, covering her as if I could protect her from the world. She buried her head in my chest, and then it hit me. I cried, like a baby, long wracking sobs. She cried as well, repeating over and over, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I realized how selfish I was. Here I was mourning what I would lose, and she mourned what she would no longer give me.

I rolled onto my back, pulling her on top, still inside her. Stroking her hair and pulling her hand over my heart, I whispered in her ear, "Do not fear for me, little one. You will always be with me here. You have not failed me for I could not be prouder of you. Even facing death you put me first. For that I can never repay you, but I shall try. So long as you are alive, I shall try. We shall live a lifetime in these few months."

The next three months we traveled the world. In private Serena continued to serve me as she always had. In public, which was most of the time, we acted like newly weds on a honeymoon, taking in everything we could. Fortunately there was little pain in the beginning, but for what there was Serena refused any medication. It interfered with our private sessions and she would not have it. Besides she was used to pain, and often I would see her descending into her own little sub-space. But there had come a morning when she could not rise from our bed, her left leg weakened.

We had returned home immediately, and I had our room outfitted with a hospital bed. There were nurses, and Peter to assist, but I spent virtually all my time with her. When the pain became intolerable she would ask me to whip her. I did so lovingly, laying on the lash in a slowly increasing tempo until I could see that far-off look in her eyes that told me she was in her special place. The pain of the lash overrode the other, and the endorphins gave her a natural high. I would make love to her, pinching her nipples cruelly until she shrieked her release. Then she might sleep for a few hours, free of any discomfort.

But this too passed. There came a time when she was too weak to withstand a session, and though she begged me I could not, would not, hurt her anymore. She cried inconsolably as she felt she had failed me. Instead I crawled into the bed with her, and held her gently while I caressed her, playing her body like a fine instrument. She was terribly thin now, and her skin parchment thin. Still she could respond, and after she climaxed I wept and thanked her profusely.

She asked, "Why are you thanking me?"

I looked in her eyes. "Because you have given me a great gift. First you gave me your body, then your trust. Now you have allowed me to serve you these last few months. It is little repayment." Then I said it, for the first time. "I love you, little one."

She smiled. "I know. I have known from the first day you whipped me. Your love was in the lash, the way you planted it so carefully, your attention to my desire; you fulfilled my need that day, and have done so ever since. I will always love you, my master."

She died that night. They said it was a massive stroke. She died in her sleep while I held her, caressing her hair. I heard a small "Oh", then the breath left her body, never to return.

After that I threw myself into my work, convinced I would never find someone like Serena again. I took her with me wherever I traveled and sprinkled a little of her ashes wherever I might be. It brought me comfort, knowing a part of her was always with me. The last of the ashes had been spread atop a hill in Hong Kong were we have made love years before.

Claire's arrival seemed to be fate. I had finally put Serena to rest and now another entered my life.

***

I walked into the kitchen at six-fifteen to find Peter preparing dinner. "Where's Claire?" I half expected him to tell me she had run off.

"In the bath, been there since we got back at five. The girl sure can spend money."

"That's okay Peter, I think she may be worth it." He frowned. Peter knew my proclivities. He didn't agree with them, but he also knew I gave women only the utmost of respect. He had been with me through Serena's illness. But because he didn't agree he refused to live under the same roof. Once dinner was prepared he would head home, only to return when I called for him. He lived fifteen minutes away.

Our arrangement was mutually beneficial in that he provided the utmost in discretion and I provided the utmost in respect to him. Oh, and good compensation.

"Peter, I won't need you till next Monday, maybe later."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself. What makes you think she'll stay?"

"I have a sense of these things."

"Yeah, you do, but you've been wrong before."

I laughed. "That was once, and a long time ago. I've learned a few things since then."

***

I changed into slacks and a polo pullover, then headed for the guest bathroom. Opening the door I walked in. Claire lay back in the tub, the foam having long dissipated, and her skin now well pruned. She did nothing to cover herself, instead coyly tilting her head to one side and looking at me from under long eyelashes, a sly smile on her face.

For the first time I had a long look at her. She fit easily in the bathtub, being I guessed about five-foot-four. She was thin, sylph-like, and her skin milk-white. There were multiple bruises on her arms, legs and body, as well as the two I had seen on her face. She didn't seem fazed by my gaze stopping on them, but did try to hid the cuts hidden near her sex, one hand wandering over her vee.

Her breasts sat pertly high on her chest, well separated, the nipples pink and erect in the cool air. They were about a half inch long erect, and her tan aureola crinkled around them, being about the size of a half dollar.

Her hips flared slightly, framing a flat belly, then tapered to surprisingly well muscled legs. I wondered if she mightn't be a jogger.

"Stand up."

She did, her hand still hovering over her vee.

"Move your hand. You must never hide yourself from me."

She hesitated. "Now!" I said.

The hand flicked to her side and she flushed red, her eyes now downcast. The cuts looked worse than they were, being soaked from the bath. Then I noticed her pussy. The outer lips where like a peach, covered in short strawberry hair, but split by the swollen pink inner lips which protruded slightly. Her clit protruded, the hood drawn back. It was swollen and about the size of a pencil eraser. Hmm, she had been playing with herself.

"Step out and dry yourself." She turned to put one foot out and bent down to lean her hand on the rim. In doing so she had turned her back to me presenting me with a very pretty view. Her compact cheeks parted to show her crinkled anus, which winked at me, while her pussy gaped slightly between her swollen lips.

I noticed her looking over her shoulder to see my response. I stared back placidly, yet I was not unstirred. A part of me wanted to grab her hips and thrust myself deeply into her clearly aroused cunt. Briefly I imagined myself pile-driving into her, she wailing beneath the pounding.

Then she lifted her other leg over and stood facing me. I handed her a towel. "Dry yourself."

"Wouldn't you like to help?" she said slyly.

"Enough! Dry yourself and kneel." Her eyes widened at my harsh voice, surprised I was not taken in by her wiles. She was clearly used to manipulating men with her body.

She quickly dried herself and kneeled before me, eyes downcast. I bent down, taking her hands and placing them behind her head, fingers interlocked, elbows back. Then I reached down taking her knees and spreading them to shoulder width. As I removed my hands, one trailed up her inner thigh. She drew a quick breath in a hiss.

I walked around behind her, and pulled her shoulders back and pressed her lower back into an arch, presenting her breasts. My hand trailed down the cheek of her ass, around the inner thigh where it joined her body, my fingers just brushing her outer lip, and then returned stroking my index finger up between her inner lips. She gave a low moan. My finger stopped on her anus and circled briefly helped by the lubrication it had picked up. In that brief moment her anus pulsed outward opening slightly. Interesting.

Clearly she was highly aroused. Her nether lips were now glistening and when I returned to face her, her neck and upper breasts were flushed.

"This position is present, you will learn the others later. Put on your robe and follow me."

Her mouth opened in surprise as she quickly looked up at me. "But... I... we --"

"Do as I say, now, no delays." She jumped up and grabbed her robe as I walked away. I heard the patter of little feet as she caught up to me, then she slowed to follow me. Looking back I saw that her head was down, watching my feet. "A natural," I thought, "this might just work."


Claire Reborn Ch. 01



We walked into the kitchen where Peter had just finished laying out the dinner. I pulled Claire's chair out for her, which elicited a raised eyebrow from Peter. I frowned at him. She had to climb into her chair as the kitchen table was a highboy with high-back stools. She wiggled her butt back on the stool until she was comfortable, and as a result her robe opened slightly revealing most of her legs.

I caught Peter's eye as he noted her bruises and shook my head. "Is everything done?" I asked him.

"Yes, boss. The salad's here and the main course is warming in the oven." Don't leave it more than fifteen minutes or it'll be overdone.

"Thank you, Peter. I think that's it. We'll see you Monday morning."

Standing behind Claire, his eyebrows rose at the use of the plural, as if to question my judgment again.

"Okay, boss. I'll be out of town until then."

As Peter drove off, I served the salad. "So, Claire, we're alone now. What do you think so far?"

She sat back and looked at me. "You're either crazy, gay, or both. This has been one weird day, let me tell you."

I let loose with a great roar of laughter. "Claire, I may a bit of the first, but I assure you I am not the second. I think you place too high a value on your physical appearance. Lesser men may be swayed by your charms, but I want the whole package. You are a gorgeous young woman with a body to die for. For me that is not enough. I want more."

"More? More what?"

"Let's leave that, tell me about yourself. What do you want?"

"I want what everybody wants, money, a nice home, travel, happiness, you name it."

"Happiness!" I jumped on the word. "What is happiness? Those other things? I have those, and more, yet for the last two years I have been anything but happy? How can you be happy without someone to share it with?"

She looked at me confused.

"Were you and goth-boy happy?"

Now she frowned. "Sometimes. I tried to make him happy as best I could."

"Did he try to make you happy, Claire?"

"That didn't matter. So long as he was happy I was happy."

"So, why did he hit you?"

Her face went beet red. "Ummh... well... I --"

I smiled at her, "You liked it. Don't be ashamed. It doesn't make you crazy."

She looked down, shaking her head until her hair covered her face. "N..no, I didn't, I --"

I reached over and tilted her chin upward until I was looking into her bright green eyes. There was a wild look to them, like a cornered animal.

Holding her chin, I said, "Remember, Claire, no lies!"

She closed her eyes, and nodded. 

"I can't hear you. Look at me and say it."

Opening her eyes, now filled with tears, she said, "Yes! I liked it. There, are you happy now!"

"Not quite, Claire. There is another question." Her eyes widened, and she shook her head slowly, as she guessed. "

"Why do you cut yourself, Claire? Remember, no lies."

She whispered, almost proudly, the tears stilled now. "I like it. I like the pain."

"Why, Claire? Why do you like the pain?"

Now she looked confused. "Because I do?"

"You like pain? Do you like it when you have a headache?"

"It's not the same."

"Yes it is, Claire. Think about it. Is it the pain you like, or something else?

She looked very confused. "I don't understand."

I sat back. "Think about it Claire. Think while we eat, then we'll talk again." I got up, clearing the salad dishes, then removed the main course from the oven. Peter had prepared for us a prime-rib with baked potatoes.

Claire must have been famished as she wolfed down her meal in record time. I gave her some of my potato. I don't know where she put it all.

After our meal I guided Claire into the den where, even though she was under age, we sat drinking. She had not had port before, but took to it quickly. As she started on her second glass I asked, "Have you thought about it more?"

She seemed to have mellowed and appeared more relaxed sitting in the big chair across from me. I think she had recovered some of her confidence. "I really don't know. All I can say is I feel better after I cut myself. More relaxed."

A big grin came to my face. "Excellent. Now we're getting close. I'm going to tell you something I believe is true about you. Are you ready?" She nodded.

"Claire, you like control in your life. Often you feel things are out of your control. That makes you anxious, and when you are anxious you are unhappy."

Her face screwed up as she though about this, then a small light spread across her face as her features relaxed and she said, "Ooooh...."

"When others hurt you it's almost always because you've provoked them, even if only subconsciously. You do it to control them, to make them pay attention to you because you are afraid they might leave you. You've grown to like the pain, you associate it with love, but more importantly you've come to like what the pain brings."

Claire had been slowly nodding as I talked, but at this last statement she frowned again. "Wait, I don't understand?"

"Did everything else make sense?"

She nodded, almost excited. "It did, it feels right."

"Tell me, Claire, do you think a junky likes sticking a needle in their arm? Do you think they like the hot heroin burning into their veins?"

Shaking her head she looked confused.

"Its what comes after that counts. That incredible rush from the drug. After a while the whole process becomes part of the addiction. They can't separate the pain from the ecstasy. That's you, Claire. Any kind of pain releases endorphins into your body. Endorphins are some of nature's most powerful drugs. You're an addict, Claire, but unlike all those other drugs Endorphins won't hurt you. Tell me, how do you feel after goth-boy beats you, or after you cut yourself. Do you feel a sense of relaxation, of almost floating?"

Claire's eyes were now wide open, almost in horror. "Oh, my god."

"Do you know why you are freaked out now?" She shook her head, looking lost.

"You're a control freak. You don't recognize it, but your habits betray you. Upstairs in the bathroom, you tried to tempt me. You thought you could control me, but you were surprised when I didn't respond. You even called me gay."

A glance showed she was sitting still listening raptly as I talked. "You manage how and when you receive pain either directly through cutting, or through provocation. Any questions so far?"

Startled, she shook her head no. She almost seemed to be holding her breath.

"Now the final piece of the puzzle. You are naturally submissive. You are afraid I might have deduced this. It is, in your mind, your one key weakness. " At this Claire started and her eyes blazed.

"That's bullshit. I am not. How dare you say that, you fucking prick. That's it, I'm out of here." With that she hopped up and began to storm out of the den. To do so she had to get past me.

I stood, pulling myself up to my full six feet and commanded, "Stop there." As if hit by a bolt of lightening she froze. Stepping in front of her I placed my hand on her head pushing down gently. "Present!" For a second I thought she would, but I expected not.

Instead, I moved my hands to her shoulders and forced her to her knees, kneeling myself. She gave some resistance, growling inwardly. Then I slid the robe off her shoulders and threw it to the side. Taking her hands I placed them behind her head with minimal resistance.

"Present!" I repeated. She moaned, but then her fingers laced and she arched her back presenting her breasts to me.

"You see that wasn't hard." Then I reached between her legs and ran a finger up her sopping pussy, flicking her clit at the top. She gasped; I placed my finger at her lips. She licked it, then opened her lips and took my finger in and suckled it. Taking one of her nipples I pinched it sharply. Her body shook and a guttural groan came from her throat as she continued to suck my finger.

I removed my finger from her mouth and began to circle her clit, my other hand moving to the base of her nipple, massaging the erectile tissue. She began to pant. "Spread your legs."

Her lips opened as she spread her legs to their limit. My finger began to slide up and down feeling the velvet wetness there. Her lips pulsed with her heartbeat. On each up-stroke I made sure to flick her clit. It was now fully exposed. On each down-stroke I paused briefly at her opening. She began to flex her pelvis in time with my strokes.

I could tell when she reached her release as her breath suddenly became discordant and her muscles clenched in spasm. It was at that moment that I grabbed her clit and gave it a mighty squeeze, pinching it fiercely. Her head shot upward, mouth and eyes wide as a shrill piercing scream emerged. Her hands though, remained laced behind her head, and if anything she spread her legs further. She convulsed as I continued to maul her clit, her orgasm extending far longer than normal. Animal-like sounds proceeded from her lips. Finally, I let up, cupping her pussy with my palm, pressing gently in time to the pulses within, each spasm spreading throughout her body.

Claire's legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor. I eased her down and held her in my arms, spooning her. My hands stroked her breasts gently as her breath returned to normal. Occasionally a tremor passed through her body.

"Now, as I was saying, you are a natural submissive." She began to giggle. It was then I knew I had her.

(To be continued) 



Claire Reborn Ch. 02



Author's Note: I strongly suggest you read chapter 1 if you have not done so already. There are oblique references within this chapter that may not make sense without knowledge of the first chapter.

Thank you to those of you who gave me such kind comments. Consider this multi-chapter story a kinder gentler exercise in BDSM, wherein I try to explore the feelings and motivations of the main characters, while experimenting with communicating the true depth of feeling and sensual experiences of the characters.

H Mauthor

*

We lay on the floor for about twenty minutes, saying nothing. I had grabbed her robe, throwing it over the two of us as best I could. Claire seemed to be dozing, but then sighed and squirmed in my arms, twisting to face me.

"I'm not, you know!"

"All evidence to the contrary, you still think so? Well, let's say you're a submissive with a need for control. But, after all, that is what defines many submissive people."

Her head, which had been nestled into my pecs strained to look up at me. "Huh?"

I smiled at her, hugging her close to me. "No two people are alike. It's not like they stamped you out of a submissive mold. I wouldn't presume to believe I know everything about you. But I do detect evidence of strong submissive tendencies."

The moue on her face told me exactly what she though of that.

"Would you like to leave now?"

I laughed at the alarm on her face. "You don't have to, but remember I did say it was always an option. I was just checking."

"No. I... I've nowhere to go."

"Is that the only reason? I'd be glad to give you enough to get set up somewhere, and you're welcome to keep the clothes you've bought. I might even be able to find you a job, depending on what you can do."

Emotions criss-crossed her face; I imagined a thousand things flitting through her mind. Suddenly her eyes were brimming with tears as she whispered, "I hated what you did to me... and I loved it. I've never taken orders like that before. I'm able to take care of myself, and yet I feel so safe here with you. That scares me most of all."

"Is that why you're sad?"

"I'm not sad, I'm not happy, I'm both, I'm neither, I'm so confused. You need to decide for me."

"Decide what?"

"To stay or go."

I smiled sadly at her upturned face. "I need to decide? Doesn't that say it all?" I thought. 

But I shook my head. "I can't. This is your decision to make. I can't make it for you. There are things I want from you that you don't know yet. You might hate me later for my decision, for it would certainly be for you to stay. At any rate, if you stay you can change your mind. I won't ask a commitment yet, at least until you know what a commitment means."

She laughed. "I can guess what it means."

"I doubt it. Let's get more comfortable. Did you buy something to wear around the house?"

Her head bobbed up and down.

Good, why don't you go get dressed, and meet me in the media room. It's just down the hall here on the right.

We stood and she reached for the robe, but I held on to it. "No, go as you are."

Curtsying gracefully, she pronounced with much solemnity, "Yes, mi-lord. Whatever mi-lord asks. Your wish is my command." Then she laughed, turned and pranced down the hall and up the stairs.

The sight was enchanting, the muscles in her calves, thighs and ass flexing as she went, and the lips of her pussy peaking out, not quite as inflamed now. I was finding it increasingly hard to keep my lust in check. I adjusted myself and went to the media room.

As I sorted through a pile of DVDs Claire entered the room and sat in one of the viewing chairs before the large screen. She was dressed in a knee-length jean skirt, artfully faded and ripped of course, and a dark green t-shirt with a deep v-neck. Her feet were still bare.

As I continued to sort through the DVDs she grew impatient, and said archly, "Master, are we going to watch some porn now."

I turned to her and said in a grave tone, "You may come to regret your flippant attitude." Then I winked at her, and she dissolved into laughter.

I inserted my selection, but did not start the DVD. Serious now I said, "I thought you should see what you might expect should you stay with me." Her eyes went wide. I don't think she was expecting this.

I took the remote and sat a few seats away. I did not want her to be put off by my proximity. Also, I wanted to watch her.

When I pressed start the lights went down and the screen came to life. I had the sound turned up so that every nuance of sound could be heard.

I had paid a lot of money for the production of this video. It was a time when I was young, immature and conceited. Or, at least, more conceited than I am now.

The screen showed a room, approximately thirty feet on a side, with ten foot ceilings. It was filled with various odd pieces of furniture and cabinets. From the ceiling hung chains, hook and rods. Center foreground knelt a young girl. I knew her to be twenty two at the time, but she looked no more than eighteen. She was naked, and in 'present' position as I had shown Claire.

She was blond, with long hair pulled up into a high pony tail, braided and interwoven with leather strips. The strips hung down between the cheeks of her ass. Unlike Claire she was tall and voluptuous with large breasts and wide hips. In 'present' her breasts stood high and wide. Her nipples were pierced each with a silver circlet set low in the nipple. As a result her nipples tended to be in a constant state of excitement.

Her eyes looked to the floor, and her mouth hung open. Between her legs was a small puddle of liquid, indicative of her aroused state. The camera moved in for a close up of the girl. On closer inspection one could see that the girl's legs were shaking, and her interlaced fingers clenched tightly. I think it was then that Claire noted the thin cord that led into the girl's groin. I heard her gasp.

The camera drew back and I walked into the frame; a much younger me. I walked up to the girl and lifted her chin, looking her in the eyes. "What do you want?"

She licked her lips, her mouth dry from panting. "I... I... want to cum. P...please master, let me cum."

I reached down and took the remote, adjusting it. The girl cried out, "No master, please let me come."

I removed the vibrator from her cunt and she cried out in frustration.

"Not yet my pet. It's time for your punishment. Get on the cross, face down."

Standing gracefully in a single motion she walked daintily over to a St. Andrews cross, the camera following, lowering as it went until it was looking between her legs. Her pussy and thighs were coated in a think viscous liquid. She had thin labia majora and long labia minora which made her pussy look like a red orchid. A she walked the lips rubbed back and forth, swollen and trapped between her thighs.

I could not help but contrast them to Claire's, as she had a large gap between her thighs which highlighted her pussy quite nicely I thought.

On the screen the girl had lain on the X of the cross, arms and legs spread wide. I attached cuffs to her wrists and ankles then began to adjust the ropes. I started with her ankles tightening the ropes until she was forced to slide down so that her groin was suspended over the space just off the center of the cross. The girl struggled against this saying, "NO, please no master."

I looked over at Claire to see how she was doing. She was curled up in the chair, her arms around her knees. She watched raptly as things proceeded. Her mouth hung open as the girl's had on the screen. She seemed lost in her own world. I thought I detected a hint of blush on her neck. It was then I noticed that she had not put on any panties.

Back on the screen, I finished adjusting the wrists so that the girls limbs were pulled taut. Then I took the leather from her ponytail and tied it to a chain hanging from the ceiling such that her head was pulled upward and supported. The camera moved round to take a shot of her face. Her expression was wary, yet aroused.

Pulling back the camera showed me walking over to a rack and selecting a flogger from a selection of whips. It was comprised of thick cords. Going over to the girl I showed it to her and said, "You will count for me. If you miss the count I will start over."

"Yes, Master."

The first stroke was across her upper back, and delivered somewhat gently. "One," she said. I then proceeded down her back alternating sides, my strokes becoming progressively harder. She began to moan, but maintained the count. My rhythm was measured, as I approached her ass I paused and the camera zoomed in to show her pussy soaked and swollen even more. Even her anus throbbed as we watched. Looking down the camera found a growing puddle on the floor,

The next strike was delivered significantly harder on her right buttock, causing it to quiver. "Ahh, twenty one," said the girl, squirming in place. The next nine were delivered alternately on left and right buttocks in equal force. Still the girl kept count, but now she was moaning and her pussy dripping almost continuously. Her back and ass were glowing a bright pink. Then I started on her inner thighs, close to but not striking her tender pussy lips. Her head flipped upward as she shrieked at the first strike, but she kept count her head thrashing from side to side.

After ten more blows I stopped and walked up to the girl's head presenting her with the flogger. "What do you say my pet?"

"Thank you, Master." Then she kissed the flogger. Her body was covered in a sheen of sweat. As my on-screen self walked to the rack I glanced over to Claire. Her eyes were wide in rapt attention to the screen and I saw that one hand was slowly playing with her wet lips. Her other hand was up under her t-shirt and tugging at her nipples.

From the rack a thin cane was taken and I saw myself walk back over to the cross. Leaning down I pressed a button and a small door opened below the young girl's wet pussy. A shorter section of cane similar to that which I was carrying extended, directly in line with and about two inches away from the girls quite swollen clit.

I showed her the cane saying, "You have my permission to cum, whenever and as often as you wish."

She swallowed nervously, and nodded, not daring to say anything else.

At the bottom of the cross I stood looking at her pussy. Reaching out I gently touched her ass. The girl started and reared up as best she could in surprise. Then I tapped her ass lightly; in response the cane between her legs did the same with her clit. She moaned. I hit a bit harder but still quite gently, the other cane repeated my motion with equal strength. "Aaah," went the girl.

Looking over at Claire I saw realization dawn on her face. At first she was horrified, but then a look of extreme lust erased that and she began to lightly slap her own clit in time with the video.

On the screen I had begun to lightly beat out a rhythm on the girl's ass, the other cane keeping time. The girl was moaning non-stop now, writhing as best she could. The taps on her clit at this point were likely no worse than the buzz of a vibrator, and slowly she climbed that hill coming closer and closer to its peak.

Just shy of the top I brought the cane down quite smartly with a crack. There was an odd double shriek as a microsecond later the other repeated my action. This clearly broke the mood for her as her orgasm was cut short. Now she was desperately pulling at her bindings. It took a few minutes for her to settle down. I watched Claire. Her hand was clasped to her pussy and she seemed strung tighter than a drum. I realized she was staving off her own orgasm in sympathy for the young girl.

On screen I began to tap again, but occasionally I struck harder, not hard enough to make the girl scream, but she did give out a peep the first time. As this went on the peeps were replaced by moans. A second camera was focused on her face and the picture inset showing that her eyes had glazed over and her mouth hung open, as she gasped at each strike. She was in subspace now.

The taps became harder, but the girl no longer cared. Her clit was twice as large now, swollen not only from her arousal but from the punishment it had been taking. Her pussy pulsed open and shut in rhythm to the cane. Then she began to keen, her wail rising as her muscles tighten in a spasm of ecstasy. By now I was slapping her ass quite sharply, and the other her clit equally as hard. Suddenly her body wrenched in a massive spasm and she bayed her ecstasy. I struck her very hard between the cheeks of her ass, directly on her anus.

Her eyes shot open and she was suddenly silent, the breath driven out of her by the sheer power of her orgasm. I began a constant tap tap tap on her anus. She continued to squirm her face twisted in the pain and pleasure of it all. I kept this up until, "Please, oh please stop." I did.

Looking over at Claire I saw her own face twisted in pleasure, eyes screwed shut, her body rigid as she dug at her pussy. Now that the video was quiet I could hear her moaning. I got up and sat at the foot of her chair looking at her pussy. She had left a large wet spot on her skirt and the chair. I turned and continued to watch the video.

On screen I closed the door on the cross, removed the bindings, and held the girl in my arms. She lay there moaning for a good five minutes. During this time I heard Claire straightening herself out, then her legs slid down on either side of my head resting on my shoulders. The heady aroma of aroused pussy wafted over me, and my erection became even stronger. 

On screen the girl had recovered, and she looked up and smiled, he face a mask of pure lust. "More."

Claire gasped.

The lights came up and I craned my head to looked up at Claire. She had neatened herself up but it was patently clear what she had done, even had I not seen it myself. Her neck and upper chest glowed pink.

She shook her head. "You won't do that to me."

I shrugged. "To each their own. You never know. This was intended to let you see one extreme of what we might do. Clearly you found it arousing. I wager there will be a big cleaning bill for that chair."

She blushed, biting her lip.

"Let's go to sleep. Its gotten late and I think you could use the rest."

I took her hand and helped her up. There was indeed a large stain on the chair and the back of her skirt, but she blatantly ignored them both. Her legs wobbled a bit at first, but she quickly righted herself.

Upstairs she made to go to her room. I held her hand though, saying, "In my bed, please."

She didn't complain but did say, "What happened to no fucking?"

"Who said anything about that. I just want to sleep."

We both stripped down. Looking over at me her eyes widened when she caught sight of my cock in all its rampant glory. "I thought you just wanted to sleep."

I laughed. "He may want something else, but I'm still the one in charge. I made a promise and I keep my promises."

We got into bed, and she snuggled up spoon fashion. As we lay there getting comfortable she slid down until the cheeks of her ass grasped my hard cock. Then she began to slide slowly up and down.

"Stop it."

She giggled and continued to stroke my cock. 

I said, "That video, it was filmed downstairs in my playroom. I can arrange similar treatment for you."

A shiver ran through her and she stopped rubbing. She did however grab my hand and shove it down to her pussy. It was hot and moist, lips swollen. She began to encourage my hand to rub up and down.

I pinched her clit, and she squealed, "Yesss!"

She was so small it was easy for my to reach my other arm around over her shoulder and with this I began to rub her clit in circles. The first hand slid down and I thrust two fingers into her opening, getting them wet. Then my hand slid down further until my finger began to circle her little pucker. 

She moaned and pushed, her pucker opening a little to allow me entry. As I slid one finger in her ass my thumb entered her pussy. I pressed forward until my finger was into her ass up to the second knuckle. Then I began to thrust fingers and thumb in and out, rubbing the thin membrane between them.

My other thumb and forefinger trapped her clit and began to stroke up and done pushing the hood over and back. She wanted to move, but I was virtually wrapped around her and she was trapped. I shoved a second finger into her ass and she began to huff, panting as I stroked in and out. Faster and faster until she quivered and I could feel cunt and ass squeezing me. Then I pinched her clit and shoved my fingers into her ass as far as they would go.

A massive quiver went through her as I felt my fingers being squeezed even tighter. She straightened her little body out despite my attempts to stop her and screamed at the top of her lungs. I crushed her to me, continuing to abuse her ass and clit, she panting and moaning until she screamed for me to stop. Even then I did not let go, simply stopping. I felt little tremors come and go, like after-quakes; she moaned with each. Even the slightest movement on my part met with complaint. Finally she settled down and I removed my hands carefully. Even then, she jumped when I did so.

She appeared to be nodding off so I kissed her hair and said, "Tomorrow we talk."

(To be continued)



Claire Reborn Ch. 03



Author's Note: I strongly suggest you read the previous chapters if you have not done so already. There are oblique references within this chapter that may not make sense without knowledge of the previous chapters.

Thank you to those of you who gave me such kind comments. Consider this multi-chapter story a kinder gentler exercise in BDSM, wherein I try to explore the feelings and motivations of the main characters, while experimenting with communicating the true depth of feeling and sensual experiences of the characters.

H Mauthor



I woke at nine-thirty. It had been a long time since I'd felt this relaxed. I felt around for Claire, but she was gone. I rose and emptied my bladder, my morning wood relaxing, then put on a robe.

As I walked toward the stairs I smelled bacon, eggs, and coffee. I found the kitchen table set and Clair standing at the stove in a long apron, her pert little ass facing me. I loved how her little peach of a cunt sat framed by her thighs.

I noticed the bruises on her legs and arms were fading, but she would be sporting a shiner for at least another week. I thought I'd better get some pictures before they faded further as I suspected there might be one or two issues with events at the airport.

She turned her head and caught me looking, smiled impishly, wiggled her bum, and said, "Sit down, it's almost ready."

I poured us both an orange juice, and asked, "How do you like your coffee."

"One milk," she tossed over her shoulder. Then she was plating the food and carrying the plates to the table. She removed the apron, and sat down across from me. I could not think of a more delightful view than her breasts perched just at the level of her plate. They almost looked as though they had been served up for me. In the cool air her nipples hardened.

I wrested my eyes from her glory and, looking her in the eye, said, "Bon Appétit."

Again, Claire's appetite was astounding. I wondered the girl was a thin as she was.

"How was your sleep?"

She smiled and responded, "Lovely, I was so relaxed." Then grinning impishly she said, "But I felt like the Princess and the Pea. Something kept poking me in the back, all night long."

Laughing, I retorted, "Count yourself lucky, it might have poked you somewhere else."

"Promises, promises."

"I was thinking somewhere further south."

Her eyes grew round, whether worried or eager I wasn't sure.

I put on my serious face. "Time to talk. What did you think of the video?"

She sat and thought, then said, "That is one seriously fucked up girl, no pun intended. What if you had really hurt her."

I smiled. "There was no chance of that. She was in full control the entire time."

Astonishment, then anger flashed across her face. "What kind of shit is that. She was tied up, tied down, totally at your control. You could have killed her if you had wanted to."

"Yes, that is the secret of a Dominant Submissive relationships, now isn't it. Total trust, total commitment. At any time she could have stopped everything with one little word."

"What do you mean? How?"

Smiling I put my knife and fork down. "Julie – that's her name – Julie had a safe word that she and I knew. Had she said that word, I would have stopped immediately and released her. But then she would have missed out on the pleasure she received.

The secret is that Julie trusted me implicitly to always have her best interest at heart. SHE gave herself to me, body, and soul. MY commitment was to take her to the very edge of her boundaries, to exact the maximum amount of pleasure for her. In her case, as with you, pain eventually brings her pleasure. Her addiction is such that now she craves the pain as much as the pleasure.

Did you see how she responded when I whipped her anus as she came. The ultimate mix of plain and pleasure. For her it was akin to reaching Nirvana.

But I want to talk about you and me, seriously."

Claire nodded, apparently afraid to say anything. Her neck was flushed a bit. Clearly even our brief discussion of the previous night's video had her flustered.

"I am a dominant. I like to take a woman under my protection. My goal is to teach her; to guide her. Naturally I want a submissive woman. I will teach that woman how to serve me as best she can, but that is not all. I will support her in being the best she can be.

I expect my... pets, if you will... I expect them to exercise, eat well, and attend school if they are so inclined. If not the latter I expect them to develop whatever skills they have. I won't live forever, and these relationships do not always last. I must assure myself that I leave a woman at least as well off and able to support themselves after they leave as before they met me, preferably better.

I expect strict adherence to the rules I set, and there are a few. You did quite well this morning. I assume the apron was only to protect your pretty tits from bacon spatters; you removed it as soon as it was not required. My women are to be naked at all times, unless I choose to adorn them, or if we go out."

Claire had been listening intently until now, but I could see she had a question. "Yes, what is it?"

Perking up, she asked, "You've said 'my women' more than once. How many women have you had? Do you have more than one at a time? What happened to Julie? Why me?"

"So many questions. I have had three women in my life at one time or another. I think any man who thinks he can handle more than one woman at a time is a fool. Do you know the Chinese definition of trouble? Two women under one roof."

She giggle at that. "What about Julie?"

"Wait, first I must clarify something. I may not have two pets at a time, but it is not outside my purview to bring another woman into our house, if only for a short time. The combination can be... interesting.

As for Julie, we were incompatible in the long run. She wanted to go to far darker places than I was prepared to go. The video you saw was tame compared to our last few sessions. I swear that woman would not use her safe word even if she thought I was going to kill her. That was not healthy for either of us. I won't lie. I get great pleasure in what I do to my women, but not for the reason you likely suspect."

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you think I do it?"

She frowned and knitted her eyebrows in thought. "I suppose it's because you like to inflict pain."

I shook my head. "I like to inflict pleasure; the more intense the better. Only a submissive who enjoys pain will suffice for me. Because only with pain can the ultimate pleasure be reached. I love to watch the tortured look on a woman's face her body twisting in delicious agony as she reaches completion. I love the taut, quivering muscles, the sheen of sweat, the beautiful swollen lips, and nipples, the flush on their chest, the exultant cries they make. But most of all I am addicted to the look in their eyes. The total submission, and complete, unqualified trust."

As I said this I subconsciously begun to rock slightly in my seat, my cock rising as I felt a flush of heat in my face, my voice becoming passionate in its yearning. It was like this every time with a woman. They had their sub-space; I had my dom-space.

I came back to earth as I realized what I was doing. Claire was gaping at me in awe.

"Holy shit," she whispered. 

After a brief silence she recovered and laughed at me. "So three submissives. How long has it been since your last?"

"Two years." I knew where this was going and inwardly cringed.

"That's a long time. What happened?"

"She died."

There it was. Claire got that foot-in-mouth look, then quickly looked startled. "You didn't..." she waved her hands around, afraid to say it.

"Kill her? No. I told you, I am very careful. No, Serena died from cancer." My voice broke.

Claire became apologetic. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to imply –"

I shushed her. "It's alright, our last six months were some of the happiest times of our lives. We could still play you see, even when she could no longer walk. I could take her to a place where the pleasure outweighed the pain, at least for a few hours at a time." I smiled weakly at her.

Embarrassed, Claire thanked me for sharing with her.

We finished our breakfast in silence. After she had cleaned up we moved to the den to finish our talk.

"This is what I propose. You make a commitment to me for one month to be my pet, to do as I say, when I say. I will commit to protecting you, training you, and supporting you. If you have an apartment or other payments I will make them so that you don't have to worry about losing anything. If you have a job you will call in sick, I will arrange with a doctor for appropriate proof. If you lose any pay I will make it up to you. I will arrange with my lawyer to deal with any fallout from what happened at the airport yesterday."

Startled, Claire said, "Oh my God, I had forgotten about that. I don't think you can do anything about that."

"Let me guess. Some kind of drugs in your purse, right?"

She nodded, then said, "But they weren't mine. I don't do drugs. Tony made me carry them for him."

Nodding, I said, "I expected as much. You get your high the natural way. I would have been surprised if you were taking drugs. It doesn't fit your profile."

"I have a profile?"

"Don't we all. The airport is my problem. That's what it means to be a dominant. I protect and succor you.

After a month you will have a decision to make, commit to me indefinitely, or leave. It's that simple. As for me, I have already decided or I wouldn't be making this offer. I think I decided at the airport."

"What does indefinitely mean?"

"It means we commit to working as best we can to make things work. If they aren't working, I think we'll both know. At any rate, should you decide you want to leave I will not stop you."

"Okay."

I sat waiting, then realized she had no more to say. "Okay, what?"

"Okay, let's do it. What do I do? Get down and kiss your feet?"

Roaring with laughter I rounded the table, lifted her off the chair and threw her headfirst over my shoulder. I walked upstairs with her kicking and screaming as I paddled her bare ass. In the bathroom I set her down and turned the shower on. She sat rubbing her ass thoughtfully, as I got the temperature right.

It was a large shower, specially outfitted. 

"There you go, just right."

She stepped in and let the water run over her head and down her back. "Mmmm, that feels good." She turned to face me. Looking down I was reminded I had been wanting to do something.

"Do you trim your bush?"

She blushed looking down at herself. "I like to keep it short."

I knelt down in front of her to look closer. Then I picked up a razor from the shelf and holding it up, said, "May I? I only ask because we do not have an agreement yet. Where you my submissive I would do this as a matter of course."

Tilting her head to one side, looking at me with what I would have to call a shit-eating grin, she said, "What the hell."

"Move forward." She did and the water stopped running down her crotch. I took some shaving foam and began to spread it around her mound.

"Put you foot up here," I said, indicating a low bench. Her little peach came in to view. Carefully I took long strokes to remove the bulk of her hair. Then I placed a finger inside her right labia majora, pulled it out and gently shaved the lip. She wiggled a bit when I neared the man in the boat.

"Stay still unless you want to be circumcised."

She looked down at me incredulous. "Only men are circumcised."

Raising an eyebrow at her, I retorted. "In certain religions it is common practice to circumcise women. Now you'd think that would mean removing the hood to enhance sensitivity, but no, it involves removing the clitoris."

Claire gasped in horror, eyes wide. "Oh, my god." I felt a shiver run through her body.

"I agree, it's barbaric. Switch feet, and stay still."

She dropped one foot and placed the other on the opposite bench. I continued with the left labia until I had her smooth as the proverbial baby's bottom.

"Okay, turn around and bend over, touching your toes." I relished the view and was not disappointed. My god she had a firm ass, with shallow, concave hollows. Her wet alabaster skin now gleamed as if she was a polished marble statue.

Her little peach was split. Spreading her firm cheeks I got the last few hairs at the bottom. Then I ran my hand up and down her peach, saying, "No more peach fuzz."

She mewled and gave her ass a shake when I removed my hand.

"Now, please wash me."

As I stepped under the spray she moved around behind me. Taking the soap she reached up and began to wash my shoulders, pressing her firm breasts against my back. Sliding down my back she continued to clean me, until she reached my waist. Then she started at my feet and worked up to the top of my legs.

"Bend forward," She said, pressing on my shoulders.

I did so placing my hands on the two side benches. She lathered up her hands and began to work on my glutes, massaging gently. Then one hand slide between my cheeks and she washed my anus and perineum. Pressing gently she pushed a soapy finger up inside to the second knuckle.

Kneeling down she rotated her hand, and pressed gently on my prostate rubbing in small circles.

Sub-vocally I growled as my cock came instantly erect, jutting out horizontally. Her other hand slid between my legs and grabbed it in a soapy embrace. She pressed her forehead against my ass looking intently at my cock as she began to slowly stroke it.

As she reached the glans her fingertips glided softly over the ridge, then curled around the head, her middle finger pressing on the meatus. As she continued to slowly caress me in this manner I could feel my balls tightening up. "Christ," I thought.

When I thought I could take no more I stood up and pushed her hands away. She looked up surprised and, I thought, a bit disappointed.

"Front please."

Pouting dramatically at me she began to work on my chest, again rubbing her breasts against me, trapping my cock between us. As she moved lower he breasts rubbed on each side. She was small enough though that my cock was untouched by them. Until, of course, she began to rub them from side to side.

Stepping back I grabbed her nipples and pinched them firmly, saying, "Finish!"

She inhaled a gasp as her eyes shot wide and I saw that same lustful look I had seen at the airport.

"Finish," I repeated, softer this time.

She went back to cleaning me, but I saw a look of puzzlement on her face.

"Enough, your turn. Put your feet here and here, facing the shower." I indicated the benches on each side. She stepped up and spread her legs. I quickly snapped the two hidden anklets and they pulled back tight.

"Hey, what the hell."

To keep her balance she had a hand on each wall. I pulled the bracelets down and snapped them on, hitting the release button that pulled them up tight. Claire was now spread-eagle with the shower running down her chest. She was at the perfect height in so many ways. Taking the shampoo I started with her hair, massaging her scalp firmly and gently. Then down her neck.

"Mmmm, that feels good." She allowed her head to loll back and I took the opportunity to massage her temples and down her jawbone. I felt her jerk once and realized that her bruise must still be tender.

"Sorry, forgot about that."

'S'okay, feels nice."

After a few more minutes I said, "Okay, head forward, let's get you rinsed off."

Once that was done, I started with a moisturizing soap at her feet and began to slowly work my way up, massaging her muscles as I went. Beneath a thin layer of skin and fat the muscles of her legs were taut and firm. When my face was even with her ass, I leaned in close and smelled the pungent scent of her anus mixed with the heady aroma of her sex. My cock began to stiffen again as I gazed at that heavenly valley.

Working my hands up further I began to knead her thighs, working the quads, then sliding up her hamstrings thumbs sliding closer to her pussy, rubbing back and forth, sliding upward until I was massaging the bottom of her peach. When I felt her tremble I moved up to her shoulders, and washed downward, back first. From her collarbone I worked down over her breasts, massaging and checking for any abnormalities. Serena's death had made me much more aware that cancer can strike even the youngest of people.

I found nothing other than that she was marvelously responsive to breast massage. In particular she seemed to like when I would grasp around her breasts hands flat on her ribs, thumbs on the outside and squeeze rhythmically as I moved upward, as if I was trying to force all the blood to her nipples. She would press back against my chest, cooing.

When my fingers reached her aureoles I would massage the erectile tissue beneath them and then squeeze upward to the nipples, pinching lightly. I stopped as soon as I heard her breath begin to quicken. Looking over her shoulder I saw that her neck and upper chest were flushed. What a wonder her skin was, such a beautiful barometer of her arousal.

My hands slid down her abs, cleaning and massaging as they went until I reached her now smooth mons veneris. Taking the side route my fingers squeezed her peach together. By now it had split futher, the inner lips protruding slightly, a brilliant coral pink. I continued my route south until my fingers rejoined at her perineum, which I massaged gently. I pointedly ignore her pussy, which I could tell was distressing her.

Her head was leaning back on my shoulder, rolling from side to side, and she pressed her lips to my ear and whispered, "Please."

I smiled.

Moving my hips forward I pressed my rock hard cock between her thighs. The height gained by the bench brought Claire's core to just the right height. I could have buggered her without any adjustment, but that could come later. For now, my intent was to tease and torment her.

Squatting slightly I brought my cock upward and with my hands laid it in the channel of her peach. The head was just slightly above her clit. I placed both hands forming a channel comprised of my palms, extended fingers and her inner lips. She was on fire and my cock felt the heat of her arousal.

Slowly I slid down, sliding through delicious nectar until the head of my cock was at her entrance. I pressed inwardly and she gasped, but then I slid upward in the channel of my hands until my head was once again resting above her clit. I repeated this motion, slowly, oh so slowly, gaining speed. Each time the rim of my head brushed over her clit I heard an "unh" burst from her lips. As my speed increased I shortened the length of my stroke until all I heard was "unh, unh, unh,..." the pitch rising.

My cock was desperate to explode, my balls tight, until I thought I could take no more. Then I felt her ass tighten and her thighs clench my cock. She was there! I pulled out quickly leaving her hanging from the ropes, twisting and crying, "Noooo... Oh, please, please, please."

I watched her muscles tense and writhe in frustration. This was my reward, to bring her to this point then leave her wanting. This fed my need to dominate and control. Only when I was ready would she find release, and only when I had extracted the last ounce of pleasure from her.

Leaning forward I whispered into her ear, "Who is your master?"

She moaned, then said, "You are?"

And who controls you?

"You do?"

"That's right Claire, and I control when you may come. Only when I say you may come will you come. Break this rule and you will be punished. Do you understand."

She hung her head and groaned.

I took her gently in my arms, my cock pressed into the crack of her ass and said, "Remember, Claire, this is your choice. You can walk away at any time. Do you want to leave?" She shook her head. "What do you want Claire?"




Claire Reborn Ch. 03



She moaned, "I want to cum."

"And who controls you?"

"You do?"

"So what do you say, Claire?"

At first she looked confused, but then she uttered those words of acceptance, "Please sir, may I cum? Please make me cum?"

"Good girl, my pet. I want you to do something for me. Lay your head back and remember my cock stroking your pussy as it just was." I stroked her abdomen down to the top of her mons then back up with the flats of my spread fingers. "Can you feel it?" She nodded her head. "Do you remember how it felt, my cock flicking your clit?"

"Mmmm." She began to rub her ass into my cock. My hands slid up to cup and massage her breasts.

"How does it feel Claire? Describe it for me."

"So good. It's hard and it feels so right."

"I'm sliding between your cuts Claire. Can you feel them catching on my cock?"

Her breath caught, reluctant to cede this last psychological surrender. Then she nodded, her breath coming faster. I felt her rubbing her thighs together squeezing, her buttocks flexing against my cock.

"Feel my cock on your clit, the exquisite friction as your excitement grows." Now I was rolling her nipples between my fingers, stretching them out and upward. "Can you feel it Claire? Your clit is getting ready to explode. Remember you must do as I say. You're almost there Claire, your clit is so sensitive."

She groaned, louder now.

"You will no longer cut yourself." She tensed, her body rigid.

Pulling her tight against me and whispering into her ear I said, "I am the razor now, Claire. I will bring you exquisite pain. Do you understand?"

A deep, guttural groan emanated from deep in her chest, and I felt her body tighten. "Yesssss," she hissed.

"Cum for me Claire, let yourself go." I quickly flipped the shower head down to beat on her clit, and then pinched both nipples pulling her upwards to her tip-toes.

A terrific wail emerged from her mouth, then she screamed, "Oh my God, my God, don't stop." She wrenched from side to side her muscles taut, her ass squeezing my cock. For another twenty seconds she moaned, but then she wiggled, "Too much." My hand came down and cupped her sex, two finger curling up to pierce her opening. There I waited supporting her weight in my hand her clit squeezed as the aftershocks diminished and she sagged in the ropes. Redirecting the shower I released her hands and feet, lifting her down from the benches.

She turned and hugged me, then sank to kneel in front of me. "Thank you....., Master......., that was amazing."

"And you did so well my pet. I am so proud of you. Come with me."

In the den I had her pose for me as I took a video. She was naked but these were not erotic pictures, I simply wanted to make sure there was no doubt these bruises were on her body. I made sure that her 'good parts' were out of the viewfinder. I adjusted the lighting to ensure that each bruise showed to best effect. The new one on her cheek looked absolutely raw.

I then called my lawyer with Claire sitting by my side.

"Paul, it's Jack, have you got five? ... Good, I've got something I want you to handle for me. A friend of mine, Claire..." 

She whispered in my ear, "Duncan."

"Claire Duncan," I continued, "came into town yesterday with a rather unsavory character and got into a bit of trouble."

Clair was ahead of me now and whispered in my ear, "Anthony Williams".

"His name? Anthony Williams. At any rate, it seems he had forced her to carry some drugs in her purse, but they were found. The cops got him, but she eluded them and came to my place."

T'was the truth, if artfully embellished. He asked if there were any extenuating circumstances.

"I'm going to send you some video I took of her today. It shows how he's been abusing her. The poor thing is scared to death of him. Can you follow up and see what we need to do? She'd like to get her purse and luggage back. ... uh huh. ... okay. Thanks Paul. Give me a shout once you know what we need to do. She'll be here."

Claire was now kneeling at my knees, a natural, no doubt about it.

I put my hand out and standing pulled her up. Then I picked her up in my arms and carried her to bed. "Time for a nap." When she looked to say something, I frowned lightly at her and quietly said, "Obedience."

She settled right down.

(To be continued)

Claire Reborn


Copyright 2014 by Holly Mauthor
Posted with permission at Literotica.com
All other rights reserved.



Claire Reborn Ch. 04



Claire Recounts her upbringing and perspective on what happened with Jack. I have tried to avoid the typical and often boring error of just recounting events from a different point of view. The reader begins to gain an appreciation of what makes Claire tick. Is she truly a sub?

New readers of this series should read the previous three chapters. Because this is not just a different perspective recounting of the exact same events you may be less entertained by this chapter without that knowledge.

*****

"I know his name; Jack. It's funny it took a whole day to find that out. My body's so sore. Jack," I thought again as I lay snuggled up to him. His cock pushed at my back, and I thought of the times I had seen it angry. I longed to feel it in me, but I feared I might not be able to take it, I was so small.

I cursed at how stupid I'd been. Tony had been such a dick on the plane. He was so needy, and coming off the horse he could be so edgy. I'd never realized why I needled him so much but, as I thought back on it, what Jack said made sense.

***

My father had been so good to me as a child. I'd never had to worry about anything. This big, warm block of a man who was always there for me. He was always hugging me in a fatherly way; big bear hugs, his laughter resonating in my ears. My home had been this calm oasis of soothing warmth.

But then he'd died when I was fifteen. My mother was useless afterward and I was left alone to fend for myself, trying to cope. I was a late bloomer and still hadn't had my period. Things quickly got out of control. Try being the only girl in your grade without a sign of femininity, and a good half foot shorter than everyone else. My safe warm life was turned upside down. I'd done well at school, but now I was slipping. The stress was incredible. 

Then I got mono. How, I don't know. They call it the kissing disease but I sure hadn't been kissing anyone. Far from it. I was laid out in bed for weeks, and I lost a lot of weight, which I could little afford to lose. While I was sick my mother was stressed out and yelled at me a lot. I guess she was suffering from having to support the family, pay for doctor's visits, and tend to a sick child.

When I was finally better, her attitude didn't change, and I lashed back. I decided I wouldn't eat. Call it anorexia, call it what you want. This I would control, no matter what my mother said. As a result of my severely restricted intake I still hadn't had my period; in fact I could have passed for thirteen on my eighteenth birthday.

We lived in Lomen, Wyoming, a small god-fearing, republican-voting town in southern Wyoming, not far from Salt Lake City. Sex education was definitely not in the curriculum. Wouldn't want us kids getting any ideas. What I was taught about sex and the female body you could write on a small piece of paper. Even then half of it was probably wrong. I was sure that my mother would have curled up and died if I had ever asked her anything about it.

One day, shortly after my birthday my only friend told me about her cousin, and how she cut herself. I was curious, and one night found myself lying naked in bed with an exacto blade. I was propped on some pillows looking down at myself, skinny legs spread. I reached down and drew the edge very slowly over my skin for about two inches. It hurt at first but then it didn't. Well, it did, but in a different way. It was like an electric thrill running through my body. Then I moved to my other leg and inscribed an identical line. I surprised myself when a small moan escaped my throat.

It was then I realized where that thrill in my body had gone. My crotch was on fire. I ran my fingers up my slit and found them wet. This had never happened before. Rubbing up and down, I mixed the blood with my lubrication. It looked like the worst period of a girl's life, if I'd ever had one. I spread it on the cuts, the salt in my cream stinging sharply. But it felt good in a way. I giggled, but then my fingers found my clit, and began to circle. Holy shit! My legs fell open and for some reason my other hand sought my hole. That's what I called it back then. My hole. My finger slipped in and delved deeper until it found my hymen. I thought that was the extent of my pussy. I was pretty naive.

I began to slide in and out as my finger circled my clit faster and faster. I realized that I was panting very loud and scared myself. "What if mom heard." I had to control my breathing, which only made things worse. My clit throbbed and I suddenly slapped it with my hand.

An explosion had gone off in my gut, warm fluid seeming to flow there. I gasped, and quickly grabbed a pillow to shriek into, my legs clamping on my other hand. I felt that feeling in your gut you get when the roller-coaster goes over a bump real fast, like falling. Warm waves pulsed from my core up into my chest and down to my toes. I thought it would never end, but slowly I caught my breathe and settled down. I felt as if I had just run a marathon. It had been years since I had been that relaxed. I quickly fell asleep.

Next morning my bed looked like a scene from an ax murder. I grabbed the sheets and quickly took them to the laundry room, hiding the worst of the blood from my mother. She was surprised. "You finally got your period." Later she gave me a pamphlet she had got from the drug store. That was the extent of my sexual health teaching from mom.

Back in my room I sat on my bed admiring my cuts. The blood had clotted but they were still tender. It was fortunate I had space between my thighs and they didn't rub. I felt proud of them at the time. Thinking back I now realize the reason. They were mine. They showed my mastery over my body. I was in control in a different way. And God, didn't it feel good?

From that day on things got better for me. I started to eat again, and a few months later my period came for real. I even started to grow boobs, although they never got really big. I even grew a few inches. I was never going to be an amazon, but at least I fit in better with the other girls my senior year. My pubic hair never came in too thick, but that was fine with me as I guess I had gotten used to being bald down there for so long.

I wasn't as anxious, but every few days I would place two more cuts on my legs, evenly spaced. I grew proud of those lines, so neatly inscribed. They were like a badge of honor for me. They symbolized my control of my life. And of course I gave myself an orgasm to go with the cuts.

I had taken ballet lessons since I was five. My father had loved to come and watch. When he died I stopped. As I began to put on weight I still looked anemic. I certainly no longer felt like the swan he had called me, rather an ugly duckling. When I started cutting and realized I had a better form of control, I took up ballet again. I had to get a job to pay for the lessons as mom thought it was a waste of time.

I really threw myself into the lessons, and my body responded, my new weight turning into lithe muscle, my thighs and calves took on new form. I liked to watch myself in the mirror at the barre, and when I was stretching my legs on the barre I would look at my crotch and imagine the neat lines down my thighs. I could feel them as the fresh scabs made my skin pull. I always wore opaque tights so that the others would not see them.

There were a number of instructors at the school, but my regular was Madam Olga, an old Russian emigre who would often tell us tales of the Bolshoi. She had only been in the troupe, never a star, but still it sounded amazing.

One day she was ill and we had a sub, Jonathon. He strutted around barking commands at us. I was working en-pointe when he came up behind me and slapped my ass sharply, barking, "straighten up." The shock ran from my ass right to my pussy. Then a moment later he did it again on my other cheek. Shocked, I looked up at him in the mirror, eyes ablaze. He looked back, and I realized he was looking at my camel-toe. I looked down surprised, then embarrassed, to see a wet spot. Our eyes met and a knowing look came into his eye. "You, I want to talk with after class." Then he stomped off to abuse some other poor girl.

The rest of the class I could not stop thinking of how I had reacted. I desperately tied to think other thoughts in the hopes my wet spot would not grow. Finally, I excused myself and went to the washroom to dry myself. 

The class was dispersing when I returned and Jonathon beckoned me over. "Madam Olga tells me you are to be in the recital. If so, you need to work harder. Your line is all wrong. You must keep your back straighter. He turned me to the bar and stood behind me. "Begin!"

I began to work through the routine. As I moved from fifth to demi-pointe and extended my left foot tendu he grabbed my shoulders pulling them back. "Shoulders back, chest out, head up, back straight." I almost fell, but recovered. He was brutal in his direction, unlike Madam Olga who directed with light touches of her fingertips.

As I bowed, arms outstretched, he slapped my ass again, "Back flat, you are not an old crone." Again that lightening bolt to my core. When I stood up and looked in the mirror I was shocked to see my tights pulled up into my pussy, which was now split, my nether lips having swollen. A dark line of damp filled the valley. I felt as I had the first time I cut myself, that warm feeling.

He waved his hands to stop me. "No, no, no. Stop!" By now the studio was empty and the windows dark. "This simply won't do. Your heart is not in it."

I was frustrated, in more ways than one. I had been trying and I thought I had been good. Madame Olga had not questioned my ability. But worse, I was horny. I was on fire, and in the mirror I could see the flush in my neck and chest. My nipples protruded through my top.

"You are not motivated. Perhaps a bit of discipline will help. Come with me." He pulled a chair out and sat down. "Bend over here." He indicated his knees.

"Wh... what are you doing?"

"I told you, you lack discipline. It appears your family has spared the rod. You are spoiled and don't work hard. I will correct that. Bend over."

I hesitated. A big part of me thrilled at the idea of being spanked, but I knew this wasn't right.

"Now, or do you not want to be in the recital? One word from me and you are out."

Biting my lip I stepped forward and leaned over his knee. My hands hung down, not quite touching the floor. His hand came down with a crack, and my head shot up.

"We shall do ten today and see if that helps."

He was very slow and methodical, moving his target around to ensure that he struck all areas of my ass equally. By the third stroke I felt a cool sensation on my thigh. I was leaking profusely and the wind from his hand cooled the dew which rapidly spread across my tights. By the sixth stroke I had begun to moan slowly to myself. This was so much better than the cutting.

I found myself wishing he would strike harder. The pain was mixing with the pleasurable feeling at the juncture of my thighs. I wiggled around a bit until one of his knees pressed on my clit. Each slap now delivered a bump to my clit which felt incredibly good. I no longer cared whether he knew how I was responding. I only wanted release. My moans were echoing off the walls of the studio know as the ninth and tenth strike landed.

Then he pushed me to my knees. His eyes were wild and I saw a large lump in his crotch. "Come here, girl. I have something for you." He began to slide his pants down.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"

I fell back startled. He looked shocked, his pants halfway down his thighs and his erection out. It was the first erection I had seen, but it was only a brief glimpse as he jumped up pulling on his pants.

In the door of the studio stood the owner, a woman of formidable size and temper. She loved the ballet, but at six-foot-two and one hundred and eighty pounds had stood no chance of being a professional.

Jonathan was dissembling wildly, "I was only disciplining this student. She was not working up --"

"BULLSHIT! I know what I saw! You're fired! Get your things and get out of here now!"

Grabbing his bag he ran out the door scrambling to avoid the owner. She slammed the door, then turned to me. "Are you alright?"

I nodded dumbly. My mind and body were at war with each other. I was confused, scared, and frustrated, all at the same time. But most of all I was excited and horny. I stammered, "Th..thank you. I'm sorry, I didn't me --"

"Don't sweat it honey. I suspected that asshole had been up to hanky panky for some time now." She looked me up and down, noting my obviously aroused state. "Hmmm, looks like you're no worse for wear, but maybe I came in too soon. Maybe you would have welcomed his attentions."

I felt the heat in my cheeks as I blushed, and closed my eyes.

"Don't worry honey, we've all been there before. Let me see if I can help." She sat on the floor, wrapped her arm around me and pulled me in tight. I lay my head against her not insignificant bust and felt warm and soft like when my father would hug me. Her fingertips circled on my stomach lightly, not quite tickling. It felt nice.

Then I felt warmth as the hand on my shoulder moved casually to my breast. She plucked my nipple between thumb and forefinger, squeezing gently. Liquid fire flowed from breast to clit and I groaned, desperately trying not to respond. She knew what to do though. Her hand slid into my sleeveless top and gently massaged my tiny breast. I opened my eyes and looked into the mirror. I was sprawled legs akimbo. I could see her looking back at me, a gentle smile on her face.

My own face I didn't recognize. A look of wanton desire stared back at me, my mouth agape, gasping lightly as she played with my breast. I could see the hand under my top and that excited me. Looking me straight in the mirror her smiled turned wicked and she pinched my nipple savagely. My eyes shot open and loud moan emerged from my mouth. Then I shocked myself when I saw my grimace turn to a satisfied smile, my eyes hooded.

Distracted as I was I had not noticed her other hand until it undid the snaps in the crotch of my top. Then she slid beneath my tights and slid her thumb and forefinger down opposite sides of my clit squeezing it gently. My hips bucked upward. "Unhh!"

She cooed into my ear, "Let mama take care of this honey." Her upper hand slid further under my top to reach my other breast and again pinched me viciously; at the same time she squeezed my clit. I was panting now and on the edge.

She stopped! Laughing gently to herself, her hands stilled. I moaned pitifully. "Yes, I know honey, it feels so good, but momma is going to make it feel even better." She grabbed my whole breast kneading it gently, her other hand sliding down until two fingers slid into my hole. It was a very tight ftr and they came up short. 

"I would never have guessed. For such a wicked slut you seem to have been a good girl. I'm going to do you a favor honey. No one should have to deal with this the first time they have a man. Men are such idiots."

She began to stroke in and out of me, her thumb resting on and sliding over my clit. I felt the tidal wave gathering, my legs spread wide, I keened, "Oh, oh, oh." My hips thrust upward as my muscles clenched. She pinched my nipple again, taking me higher. The pain was exquisite. Then, when I thought it couldn't get any better, she thrust her fingers deep into my hole. There was a stab of pain so close to the ecstasy of my clit that I could not separate them. The most potent orgasm of my life enveloped me. I was falling and molten blood ran through my veins. I writhed on the floor trying to catch my breathe until I passed out.

I woke a bit later to that familiar feeling of mushy muscles. I stretched, then started. I was half naked on the floor of the studio. There was dull ache in my pussy. I carefully reached down and inserted a finger. There was no longer anything in the way and I could insert the entire length of my finger with some difficulty. It felt strange, and yet wonderful. As I felt around I could feel the remnants of what had been in the way, small flaps of tissue. Later I learned this was the physical manifestation of my virginity.

When I pulled my fingers out I found blood, and was worried that some of my cuts had opened, but no they were fine. I realized it must have come from whatever had been in the way. Thinking back now, I realize how ignorant I was of some things. Mom said nothing, the girls I hung around with were clueless, and the school absolutely useless.

My first two sexual encounters with other people had occurred within minutes of each other and both helped to cement my association of pain with pleasure. After that things went downhill.

It was amazing I did as well as I did in School, but then again I'd figured out how to feed the beast that was my anxiety. I graduated with honors, but fate had other things in store for me than college.

In the last few months of senior year I started dating Nate. I thought the world of him. He was big, strong from working his father's farm, and we thought we were in love. Nate hated the farm though and as soon as he got the opportunity he wanted to move to New York City.

Nate wasn't your typical boyfriend in that he never really pushed me much for sex. In fact, more often than not I would initiate things. He really liked to fuck me from behind. I loved it when he did, as he would spank my ass, and occasionally pull on my hair. Sometimes though he would not be able to get off. If I was in any way sympathetic or said anything about it he would get really mad and start to hit me. Never in the face, only where it couldn't be seen. He was particularly prone to striking out at my breasts or grabbing them and twisting them. This would really get me going, but more often than not her would leave me hanging. Afterward he would be really sorry, and we would spoon, his big arms around me like my father had done. We would lie there and talk about moving to New York and what we would do there.

On my eighteenth birthday I had received a small amount of money as inheritance from my father's death. Nate had been saving up himself. Between the two of us we thought we had enough to stake us to six months in New York to see if we could make a go of it. Once school was out, without a word to our parents, we set off for New York.

I picked up some work in the chorus of a few off-Broadway shows, but my heart wasn't in it. I loved the dancing, I just knew this wasn't going to be my career. Funnily enough I'd always had an interest in engineering. My dad had been a Civil Engineer working for the county. For the time being though working as a waitress filled the gaps.

Nate got a job working as a bouncer in a bar in Chelsea. He'd be out quite late, usually coming in at three in the morning. One night after a particularly long dry spell I woke to him getting into bed. Turning to snuggle up to him, I reached into his boxers and took hold of his cock. He pushed me away.

"C'mon honey, it's been a while and I'm horny. Let me get you in the mood."

He turned away, saying, "Another night, I'm tired."

I wasn't having any of it. Masturbating might take the edge off, and I was still cutting myself, but I needed a good rough fuck. That's when I made my mistake. "Be a man Nate. I want a good fuck. Can't you get it up?"

Spinning around in the bed and throwing off the covers he yelled, "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

Now I was excited. This was my thing, get him going. "I said be a man. Let's see that thing get angry. Or aren't you into women." Well, that was a mistake, but I didn't know it at the time. He went ballistic. He grabbed my hair and pulled me down on to the bed. Ripping my nightie off he then proceeded to whip me with his belt. The pain was searing, and I didn't like it. He was laying into me with all the strength in his body and it was too intense. I swear I could feel skin peeling off my back.




Claire Reborn Ch. 04



I screamed for him to stop, but this only incensed him. He pulled me to my knees and jammed his now rigid pole into me in one viscous stroke. It was fortunate I had started out horny or he would have torn me open. He began to jackhammer into me, slapping my ass with each stroke. It was then I responded with a loud moan, which only seemed to piss him off.

He pulled out of my cunt, quickly changing position, placing his cock against my anus, and thrust forward without any preparation. I shrieked as I felt my sphincter tear but this seemed to only goad him on. With long strokes he would pull all the way out then thrust fully in, causing me great agony. His hands came around, each taking a fistful of a tit and using them as leverage to thrust in and out of me.

This was beyond anything I had ever imagined and now I was screaming with each thrust, fire in my ass, and my tits screaming in agony as he crushed them in his powerful hands. When he finally came I felt him thrust as deeply into me as he could, head flung back as he roared his domination over me, cock pulsing against my torn ring. Then he pulled out of me, shoved me off the bed and fell into a deep sleep.

I lay there in agony, realizing I had just been raped, if you could call it anything. After about half an hour I crawled to the bathroom where I emptied my bowels painfully, blood, semen, mucous and shit all mixed together. My asshole burned when I tried to clean it, and there was a lot of blood. When I was finally able to stand I looked at myself in the mirror and saw dark bruises forming on my breasts, each of Nate's fingers plainly embossed therein.

Turning, I looked over my shoulder at my back and winced when I saw the red welts he had raised, a bit of blood running from some of them. Not as bad as I had suspected. I started the shower, got in and sat there crying until tears could come no more. Then I cleaned myself, wrapped myself in a heavy robe and lay down on the sofa where I fell asleep.

The sound of Nate moving around in the apartment woke me up. When I opened my eyes he was just putting his suitcase down by the door. Catching my eye, he came over and sat on the floor by my head. He looked like a man with something to say, but stuck for words. I still ached terribly and was quite angry with him, but I could see in his eyes he was probably more angry with himself than I could ever be. And sad, very sad. Angrily I said, "What is it? Just say it."

He started to cry. I had never seen him cry before, not even a bit. When he caught hold of himself it finally all came out.

"I'm so sorry Claire, for what I did to you last night. But more, I'm sorry for the lie I lived with you. I love you. I love you as a friend, but I can never really love you."

"Is there another woman?"

He laughed. "No, but there's a man I love very dearly." I'm sure I heard my chin hit the floor. Then things clicked for me. Why we only fucked from behind. The lack of interest in my tits. Low sex drive? He didn't have a low sex drive. I just wasn't compatible. Then I got angry.

"What the fuck was that last night?"

Again he looked sad, and guilty. "I'm so sorry. You pushed some buttons I didn't know I had. Until last night I couldn't admit to myself what I was. Deep down I knew, but didn't want it to be true. I took my anger out on you, when it was myself I should have been punishing. I have to leave. I couldn't stay here after what I've done to you. And I couldn't stay here because here is not where I need to be. You need to be free too, to find someone who can love the woman you are. I hope we can still be friends, even after what I did to you."

I saw the pain in his eyes and reached out to stroke his cheek. "Yes, go. Come see me when you get settled, but not too soon. It's going to take me time to get over this.

He left then. Later I found he had left three thousand dollars to help with the rent. I kept it. 

After that I'd had a string of boyfriends. I had a knack for picking them, or maybe they had a knack for picking me. At any rate they quickly cottoned onto my particular kink and, to a man, enjoyed accommodating it. Unfortunately they quickly devolved into just abusing me. After all if I liked pain during sex, why not other times. 

That I would not abide, having learned that there WAS such a thing as too much pain. Before it got to that I would kick them out. I turned to cutting with a vengeance. A lot of them thought I was crazy and more than one left because of it. Those that tried to stop me, I kicked out.

Which brings me to Tony. I met Tony at a party in New York. He was in town from London, and his accent drove me crazy. We hooked up and he moved in with me. It was a few weeks in when I realized that Tony had his own little kink; Heroin. Daddy back home kept sending him money though so he was able to keep up his habit without devolving into a street rat to feed it. On more than one occasion he asked me to try it, but that I would not do. When he was on the horse he was not in control. When he came off it he could be a real asshole. That's when he would hit me. I realized that the drug controlled him, not the other way around.

Tony got bored and I agreed to a trip to the west coast, not having any prospects at the time. That's what brought me to LA.

Jack caught my eye when I was standing with Tony. Tall, big boned, broad shoulders and deep chest, handsome in a rugged way. He had his black hair short, and swept back. A dark suit, slightly wrinkled, looked very good on him. My mind was elsewhere during that argument as I was sure Tony would go off his nut, as he liked to say. Then I was a bit out of it after Tony slugged me; I knew he would be pissed after he got back. Part of me was excited, but I wasn't really in control right then.

Jack caught my eye again, we'd locked gazes. I felt naked under his gaze; it was as if he looked inside me. He smiled, a smile that said I know your secret.

After I had our bags Jack surprised me when he asked if he could help. I really wasn't all there. I almost blurted out something about him getting me wrong, but realized he hadn't said anything other than the offer. It was all in his look.

Then I saw the cops with Tony. I was scared. Tony's drug kit was in my purse! He would go ballistic, assuming of course we didn't both end up in jail for possession. I thought about running, but where would I go?

A warm hand on my shoulder surprised me, and that smooth voice again, asking if he could help. I argued what could he do, but he pointed out what little choice I had. A part of me screamed run, but then he was no longer asking. He commanded, and my mind just clicked and I was following along behind him. The blood roared in my ears. I'd felt that warm feeling of comfort that came when things were under control. But they weren't. I was confused.

In his car I dropped my shoes and curled up on the seat across from him trying to make myself as small as possible. I looked out the window but no one followed. I was safe, for the time being. But who the hell was this man and why had I followed him? I stared at his shoes, afraid to face him. He wanted me to look at him. When I looked up it wasn't enough. He insisted I look him straight in the eyes.

He looked me up and down like a gladiator appraising his prize. "Get yourself under control girl," I thought. My brain was saying one thing, but my body said another. Suddenly it was stifling hot in the car. I could smell him, a mix of day old cologne and that smell you get from too long sitting in a plane. Yet it was an honest smell, with a musky undertone.

"Fix your clothes," he said. I hesitated, confused. Then he yelled at me and I hurried to pull myself into shape. It was then I noticed my cuts were exposed. He must have seen them. Startled, I looked up at him to see if he showed any reaction. When I saw none I settled back in the seat, still on edge.

Then we played twenty questions; he asked the questions. Tony he referred to as goth-boy, which I didn't get at first, but thought amusing afterward. I could see that; the way Tony dressed.

He gotten angry with me. I had tried to duck a question. He didn't like that, said I had to tell the truth. Finally I had to admit to my darkest secret, my fascination with pain, my need for control. I felt exposed, and the part of me at my core liked it. A thrill had run through me, and I felt myself become wetter. "Not now," I thought, but this was the thing I couldn't control. I'd fooled myself with the cutting and inciting the beatings, but my body I couldn't really control. I could only incite it.

I found myself beside this man I didn't know. I don't remembered moving. I think he even kissed me. I snuggled in, he was warm and the air conditioning had chilled me. I liked his arm around me. It felt safe in a way. I couldn't really describe how I felt. Conflicting thoughts and emotions ran through me.

The smell of his musk was stronger, and I thought that perhaps he wanted me. Perhaps this was the smell of his arousal. He gave me a choice: go with him to his house; or he would drop me off wherever I wanted. He wanted to talk. Who was he kidding? I asked, then told him, I would gladly fuck him. God, at that point I'd have fucked anything to get some release, and frankly to take my mind off this mess I was in.

He flat out refused! What the hell! Even offered to give me enough money to go wherever I wanted and send me on my way. But just stay the night and talk. We argued a bit about stuff. He thought he knew me. The thing is I was afraid he did. For a brief moment a look of great sadness came over him, and I realized that perhaps he had some reason to help me after all.

I resolved then to stay, but all my defenses were up now. Clearly this man had some history, and I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

He dumped me at his house, told his driver to take me shopping, then disappeared. Peter, the chauffeur or whatever, didn't talk much while we shopped. He did occasionally give me a funny look that I couldn't read, and more than once I saw him shaking his head. He had this thick Cajun accent, and occasionally lapsed into patois, but for the most part presented himself as a well-educated man. 

At one point we sat drinking coffee and I straight out asked him, "Listen, can I trust your boss? Or is he some kind of sick pervert who picks on helpless women." He just about spit his coffee across the table. Then he laughed.

"Nah, cher, I would not say he picks on helpless women. As for bein a pervert, maysup that depends on what you define as perversion. Some might say yes, others not. Each of us have our secrets and our demons. His are no worse than most. He will treat you with respect, you can depend on that. You just might find his idea of respect a bit strange. The few women I have seen him with were all the better for having known him, that I can say." There I had it. An answer that left many questions unanswered. Peter would say no more. 

In many ways he was the perfect man to take shopping. He waited patiently, never expressing boredom, gave me his honest opinion, and was quick with the charge card. I figured since the offer was there and I was likely a long time from getting my own clothes back, what was the harm in having a little fun.

Peter showed me the house when we got home, then had to start supper. I filled a big tub with suds and settled in for a long soak. While I lay there my hand wandered down to touch myself, almost of its own volition. I had settled down after the excitement of the day, but as I lay there stroking my lips I thought back to the days events.

The events in the car played back through my head. I thought of how I had sat facing him. My legs drawn up, almost as if in supplication. He had not taken any guff from me, demanding I be honest with him. I remembered the heat when I was beside him, and the odors and how I had felt. The soft touch of his lips on my hair. The feeling of shelter, from the storm the morning had been.

My body responded. My other hand lightly stroked my nipples making them hard. I took each, and pinched them till my breath caught, then harder still. I felt the heat in my belly responding, and my fingers dragged sullenly through my now swollen labia til they reached my little nubbin, still hiding in its hood. I drew around, not touching until, with thumb and forefinger, I grasped at its root gently rocking the hood back and forth, palpitating the sensitive nerves therein.

My chest rose and fell in sympathetic harmony to the motion of my fingers, breath rasping as I wiggled down further in the tub, opening my legs further. I continued to abuse my breasts, flicking the nipples as if flicking lint off a jacket, the sharp pangs bringing gasps from my throat. Below I had returned to my hole, and thrust two fingers deep inside me, but the soapy water had removed most of my lubrication. I returned to my clit and continued rolling and pinching the hood.

My second hand moved down and found my little pucker, pressing in and out. I'd never been taken there since Nate, but often thought what it would be like if done gently. Now I though about his cock, pressing me there, and how it would feel stretching to accommodate him. How big might he be? My finger pierced it up to the first knuckle, but again I was stymied by a lack of lubrication. I settled for pressing in and out alternately protruding and depressing the tight ring. It felt so wrong, and therefor so right.

As I reached my peak, for reasons I could not fathom, I thought of myself naked at his feet, and screamed my pleasure. I held there for a long time, savoring the sweet agony between my legs, then my body sagged, tension released. I must have nodded off for the next thing I heard was the sound of steps approaching.

I was still randy as hell, and true to my nature I thought I'd see how well I could push this guy's buttons. So, when the door opened I just lay there, trying to look seductive. The problem with that is, when you're doing it you have no idea as to whether you do look seductive, or just silly. Still, I tried.

This was the first time I had seen him out of a suit. His shirt clung deliciously to his body, which could have been that of an Olympic swimmer. His shoulders were huge. After giving me the once over he asked me to stand. I might as well have been trying to seduce a stone statue. Then he told me to move my hand. It was then that I realized I had been covering my cuts. I guess I was still self-conscious about them. Silly, since he had already seen them.

I didn't move quick enough; he startled me when he barked. My heart skipped a beat and I could feel myself flushing. Damned traitorous skin. I couldn't hide a thing from anyone. His eyes stopped briefly just below my waist and I though he was looking at my cuts, but then realized my arousal was probably still pretty apparent. "Hmmm," I thought, "maybe not stone after all."

When I got out of the tub I deliberately took my time and made sure he got an eyeful. Watching him I thought I saw a momentary hunger. But then he got pissed again when I suggested he help me dry. 

He got downright bossy, and all high and mighty again. I followed his instruction though. A big part of me was liking his mastery, but I was afraid to look up at him as I kneeled.

When he touched me I was surprised, but it was only to arrange my limbs. As he was finishing I realized what a submissive pose it really was. My breasts, what there was of them stood proud, and I could feel my pussy open to the air. As he stood he stroked my inner thigh and my breath hitched. My body was betraying me. I though back to masturbating and my vision. This was it.

Behind me he adjusted my pose. I felt wanton, on display for his pleasure. His hand brushed my thigh then stroked up once along my again wet lips. There was no lack of lubrication now. I could not help myself and let a small moan escaped. Then he paused at my anus, circling deliciously. How could he know this my most secret fantasy? Involuntarily I tried to swallow his finger.

He stood and gave me the robe. I was astounded. He seemed unaffected by any of this. Here I was ready to fuck the living daylights out of him and he wanted me to get dressed. I was dumbstruck. Then the commanding voice again and he was gone. I struggled to catch up, then followed watching his feet. I was afraid to look up at him. There was so much to think about, and I was confused.

We had dinner. I ate a lot. Not unusual for me, for someone who used to be anorexic, I always seem to be trying to make up for it. If I didn't keep up with my dancing I'd be a blimp by now. I started the conversation by insulting him. He just laughed. For me the conversation went downhill from there.

I was shocked to hear myself admitting I liked when Tony hit me, when anyone hit me. He had an expectation of the truth and didn't take any bullshit. But worse was when I admitted I liked the pain of cutting myself. It was something I had never really admitted to myself, never said. Instead I told myself it was to make up for the anxiety. It was my way of asserting control.

But really, I had control of my life years ago. After all I was the one that started all the shit. I stopped being anorexic. I drove Tony and the others crazy. I did it on purpose. In reality, deep down, I hated having to be in control. It scared the shit out of me. I saw my control as a brittle facade, that might break at any moment, exposing me, and my twisted desires. But I had never found anyone worth ceding control to.

He talked about junkies, and how the pain and bliss went together for them. They took one with the other. Then he told me about some chemical in our body and how it was like a drug, how pain and fear could bring it on. I felt as if a light went on in my head. The euphoria I felt afterward, and yes, the bliss. Then he pissed me off.

He poked at my brittle armor, the shell that kept the world out. My need for control. I lost it and stormed out. Only he stopped me. For the love of God I don't know how. He yelled, my body froze. He wanted me to do that thing, but I wouldn't. He crushed me down. Well, to be honest I didn't put up much resistance. I felt an animal inside struggling to get out. With one word he broke the shell, my armor. "Present."

I was free. I was in total control, because I chose to give up my control to him. I couldn't believe the calm that came over me. And the pride as I positioned myself as he had shown me, my breasts thrust there under my lowered eyes. I thought I could feel warm fluid running down my thigh. God I was suddenly so hot for him.

But then I panicked for a second afraid of what would happen; then he stroked me. God, I almost came right there. I could feel my body quiver, and the heat in my breasts where a bolt of lightning had struck from my pussy. He placed his finger to my lips and I accepted it savoring the tart, salty taste of myself.

His hand moved to my breast, kneading it oh so gently. It was as if he knew where all the nerves were. I felt as if I could bring forth milk the pressure was so intense. My cunt drooled as his fingers stroked up and done, toying with my clit. I began to rock to the rhythm, legs wide as they would go. I felt so exposed, physically, mentally, emotionally. I gave myself over to him, fully. I was his to play, like a fine instrument, and he was a virtuoso.

When my orgasm hit I did not think I could get much higher. And then he did that which I needed most. He poured napalm on a burning fire. Caught in that delicious orbit between pain and ecstasy that is an orgasm, he drove me higher. I shrieked, I writhed, desperate for him to continue, to stop. Part of me felt the incredible pain and shrunk from it desperate to survive, but the core of me enveloped it, welcomed it, cherished it for the cosmic twin it was to me pleasure. For what can we compare our pleasure to if not pain. Two sides of the same coin. My nerves had become attuned to it, had learned to cherish it.




Claire Reborn Ch. 04



Then it was too much. He knew immediately, transitioning to allow me to descend from my high orbit, gently, with many pleasant updrafts to remind me of where I had been. When I finally found myself on the floor, he said those words.

And I laughed.

(To be continued)

Claire Reborn

Copyright 2014 by H Mauthor

Posted with permission at Literotica.com

All other rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. To the best of the author's knowledge, none of the events depicted ever occurred. Claire, Jack and others are fictional characters. Their views, opinions, and experiences are invented as well and are not meant to promote anyone's personal beliefs or agenda. This story exists for primarily prurient purposes and should not be construed as an endorsement, or condemnation, of any particular lifestyle.



Claire Reborn Ch. 05



Jack begins Claire's training with a series of tests, having found Claire to be a willing student.

New readers of this series should read the previous chapters. While this chapter stands on its own, the perspective of previous chapters improves the overall story.

The remainder of Sunday, after our nap, I left Claire to her own devices. I had some work to catch up on, and I left her watching TV. I thought she should have some time to think on the events of the last two days. We went to bed early snuggling together.

Next morning, Claire was still snuggled up against me deep in sleep. I slipped from the bed, relieved myself in the bathroom, donned a pair of shorts, and headed downstairs to the basement. Past the playroom was a well-outfitted exercise room, with sauna, and next to it an endless pool. Past that was the garage.

I jumped on the stationary bike and spent twenty minutes warming up. It had been three days since I last exercised at the hotel in Hong Kong and I had energy to burn, not to mention some pent up frustration. It had been a long time since I had had a woman, but Claire's presence reminded my body all too well what it had been missing. I relieved myself every now and then when the urge struck, but I had been living a more or less monastic life since Serena died.

Several rotations on the machines and then on to the free weights. After an hour I had worked up a good sweat and was feeling that well-earned ache in my muscles. I moved to the pool and began to swim. This was the exercise I enjoyed the most. The repetitive rhythm allowed my mind to move into its own little world. When I felt the current ease at the end of the timer I stood up. Only then did I notice Claire kneeling by the steps. She had a towel under her knees which were spread to shoulder width and another at her side. He hands rested on her thighs, back straight, shoulders back, and eyes cast down.

"How long have you been there?"

"About twenty minutes." She cast her lidded eyes over at me from under her hair.

Sternly I replied, "About twenty minutes... what?"

Looking down again she said, "About twenty minutes, Sir."

"Better." I had thought that rather than list out rules I would see how well she naturally adapted. She already kneeled when required. A few corrections here and there and we would see how she did.

As I climbed the steps she asked, "May I dry you, Master?"

"Not today, I wish to talk." She took the towel in both hands and held it up to me, head bowed.

I dried my self perfunctorily and sat in a wicker chair, legs spread, my flaccid cock hanging down. She turned to face me.

Looking her over I noticed that her bruises had faded again in the night. Only her face was still obvious.

"Look at me!"

Her head rose as she looked me straight in the eye. "Yes, Master."

"Who told you to kneel?"

She looked puzzled, then responded. "It seemed appropriate, Master. Last night, while you slept I got up and used your computer to research the BDSM lifestyle. That is what this is, is it not?"

I was somewhat taken aback. When first I had seen Claire she had not struck me as particularly bright. I hadn't thought her stupid, as I would not have chosen her; just average. I was beginning to realize that perhaps she had seemed foolish due to coping with a difficult situation using learned responses that were ill chosen. I did not know any of her history.

"Hmm, so, if you have educated yourself, have you had any misgivings about what you decided last night?"

She considered this question before responding. "Master, I would say that I wish to take advantage of the month you have given me to learn more. I admit the thought of being your submissive holds a certain attraction. When I submit to you I feel a comfort in leaving everything up to you. But there is still a big part of me that is afraid to let go."

"I see. Well, we have the month to educate you. I am pleased so far with your behavior. What about breakfast?" I thought I might have caught her out, but here she was prepared as well.

"Peter is here already and he is getting breakfast ready. It should be another twenty minutes."

"Hmm, I told Peter I didn't need him until next Monday. It would seem he has little faith in my judgment. Did you walk into the kitchen like that?"

She grinned. "No, Master. I wore a robe. Peter didn't strike me as someone who would be comfortable with me naked."

I laughed. "So, if we have twenty minutes let us begin with a bit of education. First, you do not need to call me Master or Sir when we are talking. I only require it in response to a question or command. Do you understand?"

She nodded, "Yes, Sir?"

"I do expect you to kneel when with me at all times when we are in private, unless I say otherwise. During meals and when in social situations we will talk as equals. When I expect you again to kneel I will say 'Attend'. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"You will obey me in all ways no matter what the situation. Is that understood."

She hesitated, "Even in public?"

"Even in public. Obedience is non-negotiable. It is the backbone of our relationship. Remember, you are submitting to me. This is your choice."

Claire chewed her lip for a full thirty seconds before nodding her head slightly, then whispered, "I will obey you."

"I did not hear you Claire, what was that?"

Eyes blazing, she glared at me, "I will obey you, SIR."

I chose to ignore her tone this time. She would soon learn the consequences of rebellion. Then she would either reject the life, and leave, or she would learn to welcome my domination and we would grow together.

"Come with me." I held out my hand to her and she rose gracefully, as if I had been training her for years. We proceeded to the playroom. She walked like a ballerina on her toes, as if being led across a stage. I again wondered just what kind of gem I had uncovered.

I led Claire in. She hesitated at the door, but then followed, clearly a little uneasy.

I patted my hand on a small circular table in the middle of the room. "Attend, here." Surprisingly, she sprung lightly to the table where she then kneeled.

The table was a large lazy-Susan, which I turned as I introduced Claire to the various implements in the room. Her eyes grew round as I described the intent of each of the devices and she realized that I might very well use them on her. The longer I talked the more I noticed that her throat and upper chest were becoming flushed. She licked her lips when she saw the St. Andrews Cross, no doubt remembering the video. I wondered if she was afraid or fascinated by it.

When she was facing away from my I looked down at her spread ass, noting a few drops of liquid below her pussy. I reached out and slide my middle finger slowly along her parted lips until I pressed against her clit. Her lips were warm, supple and velvety soft, like a rose petal.

A gasp, and a small moan came from her.

I gently circled her clit for a moment as my cock grew hard. Likewise her little bud also grew harder, and her breathing accelerated. It had been a very long time for me. Pulling her back toward me I shifted her until her ass was hanging over the edge of the table. I pumped the foot peddle that jacked the table up until she was at just the right height for me.

Stepping forward I whispered into her ear, "Not a sound, Claire, or you will be punished. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

Then it was that I pressed the head of my angry cock against her pussy, rubbing up and down the lips to lubricate myself. I felt exquisite friction along the glans as her moist inner lips slid either side, and then flared open slightly as if inviting me in. I felt her tense then, and heard a slight gasp as she inhaled, quickly extinguished. Moving to her entrance I pressed firmly forward. At first there was resistance, but then I felt her spread her legs farther and the muscles relax.

Exquisite tingles ran down my cock as the glans spread her moist, velvet lips. She was incredibly tight as I pressed forward into her tunnel. She held firm and even settled back a bit as I broached her, sliding an inch in. My cock had entered into an angry furnace of lust. I felt her muscles ripple as she fought to relax. Her head was now thrown back her eyes scrunched shut as I leaned down and bit her neck. She pressed into my lips encouraging me to bite more. From her throat, more as a vibration than a sound, I felt her purr.

Still not a sound though. I pulled back until the corona of my cock was just catching her lips, then thrust forward gently sinking another inch inward. She was a bit looser now, but her muscles continued to massage my cock. My hands came up to take hold of her breasts, each a meager handful, but firm and ripe, the nipples turgid. I pressed upward, pinching the nipples lightly as I pulled her backward sinking ever deeper.

Pulling her nipples away I slid out. Thrusting back in I was stopped at her cervix. There was a good two inches of me still to go. I was sure she would have made a noise at that point as most women are quite tender when it comes to poking their cervix, but she remained mute. She no longer pressed back though. She had taken as much as she could.

I began a long, slow rhythm of strokes, just short of her cervix, my cock reveling in the tight grip of her cunt. God, there was something to be said about small women. Never varying from my rhythm I leaned back and began to stroke her back up and down, then my hands traversed her sweet cheeks, taut now as she began to work herself on my cock.

Her breathing was becoming labored, but still she did not make a sound. Looking across at the mirror on the wall I saw her face, a study in intense concentration as she worked herself up. I could see that she was in another place, all concentration on the experience and her control.

I was not going to hold myself back this time. It had been much too long. I would test Claire's mettle, and her memory. Did she remember the rule? She was not to come without my permission. As I felt my balls draw tight I reached around and began to stroke her clit, pressing it against my thrusting cock which I now directed to her g-spot. Trapped, the sensitive bundle of nerves was assaulted both internally and externally as I challenged her control. Her eyes flew wide, and I saw the glazed look of an addict as I pressed harder.

I felt the flare of my glans, balls drawn fully tight as a great spasm tightened the muscles in my ass and I drove forward again to gently kiss her cervix, the first great wave of my sperm sailing forth into her receptive vessel. Again and again I thrust, still mindful of Claire's state. Shortly I felt her muscles clench in preparation for release, and as she was reaching her fulfillment I reluctantly withdrew my cock and hands to leave her a hollow cave, bereft of stimulation.

Then she broke, "Nooooo." She writhed on the table and I had to take hold of her hands before she might bring herself off. Leaning in I whispered, "Only when I allow, Claire."

With a cry she collapsed on the table. I let her lay there rocking for a short while.

"PRESENT!"

Her head shot up, and reluctantly she assumed her position on the table. The look on her face was priceless. I could not decide whether she was pissed off, or in despair at what she had committed to. Still she presented well. I stroked her beautiful flushed breasts, tweaking each nipple. Then I spun her around and reached in to pull a finger down through her lips, carrying her lubricant and mine to her anus where I gently thrust in to my second knuckle. She accommodated it well, if with a small groan.

With my other hand I played with her clit, massaging it until her breath came in gasps. My come was beginning to leak down her thighs in slow white rivulets. Not daring to move she said, "Please Master, may I cum?"

"Why Claire?"

"I need to Master. It feels so good. Please let me cum, Master."

"But Claire, you made a sound. You said 'no'. Did I not tell you you would be punished if you made a sound?"

She nodded.

"And are you an obedient pet?"

"I try to be, Master, but I was so frustrated when you pulled out. I was so close."

I removed my hands and spun her around to look her directly in the eyes. "Claire, you have committed to submit to me. If it is my decision that you should not come, then you must accept it. Have you forgotten your commitment so soon?"

Her forehead creased and eyes narrowed as she realized just how much control she had ceded.

"Claire, you must understand that in submitting to me you give all to me. I believe if we are compatible you will find your decision a good one, but it may take time. For now you will have to accept that. Are you sure you are still prepared for this next month?"

Slowly she nodded her head, then remembering said, "Yes, Sir. I am yours to command."

I smiled at her, leaning in and kissed her chastely on the lips, our first real kiss such as it was. Yet, as chaste as it was I enjoyed it all the more for her willingness to commit to me. "Let's go get breakfast, your punishment can wait until later."

The look on her face was priceless. She thought the withheld orgasm to be her punishment. Now she knew better. Then her face straightened, and she slid off the table, leaving a smear of come on her thigh and the table. In the exercise room we found robes to wear to breakfast. Claire took a towel and was going to wipe away the cum leaking down her thighs.

"Leave it. Are you ashamed of my cum?"

She bowed her head. "No, Master."

We walked upstairs and into the kitchen where Peter was waiting.

"Your five minutes late, I told you forty minutes." This said to Claire."

Blushing, she said, "I'm sorry, Peter. I will try to make sure it doesn't happen again." I think she wanted to blame me but then realized that if she had followed my instructions we would not have been late. "I acted badly and delayed us."

We took our seats. Peter served us, then tch'ed, retrieved two clean dish towels and handed one to Claire. "Cher, I think you be needing this." Bending down, he wiped a large glob of my cum off the floor at her feet. 

Face crimson, Claire thrust the towel between her legs, unable to look at Peter. Face impassive Peter left the kitchen to clean up around the house.

Claire was picking at her food. "What's bothering you pet?"

She looked conflicted. 

"We are eating now. At the table we are equals except that you must do whatever I say. Say what you wish."

"It's not fair! You get what you want but I get nothing!" Now it was out on the table. She might think herself able to submit, but was the control demon in her too powerful.

"I see. So the last two days, when I made sure that you received full satisfaction, when I took nothing. That was unfair?"

But she wasn't to be fooled; no, she was sharp. "You did that because you wanted me. You wanted to control me. It was all just a trick."

"What did I tell you about myself, pet? Why do I like to dominate?"

Thinking back she said, "You like to control women."

"A woman, not all women. And?"

She waved her hands.

"I want to teach them, to serve me, but most important, to be the best they can be. That includes sexually in addition to all the other things I said. I promise you, if you stay with me you will achieve heights of sexual fulfillment like you have never experienced before. Tell me, these last few days. Have you ever come like that before."

She looked thoughtful, then answered, "Only once. The first time I cut myself, the first time I came."

"Uh huh, but never as good again. I suspect all your misbehavior is an attempt to recapture that. With me you don't have to misbehave, but you might find the punishment tempting. I can help you recapture those feelings and more. We can take a journey to find the limits of your pleasure. I think we have made a good start. Don't you?"

She pouted at me briefly, turning it to a smile. "I think you're a demon. How can you be so logical and yet so evil?"

"Concepts of good and evil are too nebulous."

Changing the subject, she whispered, "I was mortified when Peter saw that on the floor." 

"Why?"

"He knew what we had been doing!"

"Did you think he didn't? I told you, Peter knows about my particular tastes."

"So, he will always be here."

"More or less. He comes and goes as fits my need. It is unlikely he will see or hear us, but he will often clean up after us. You'll get used to it. I suggest though that you not raise the issue with him. He might try to convert you."

"What is he?"

"A Buddhist. You might enjoy talking with him about it. On a positive note, Peter will not judge what you do. It would be akusala." 

"Aku..what?"

"Akusala. It is difficult to define in English. Ask him about it some time. Attend!"

Startled, Claire glanced briefly to where Peter had exited, removed her robe, the tea towel dropping to the floor, and sank into a kneeling position.

"You may use the robe to cushion your knees. This position is not intended to provide discomfort, but rather to encourage submissive thinking." As Claire adjusted the robe, I sank into a lotus position across from her. This surprised her.

"I will be going to work shortly. While I am gone I have a number of things for you to do. On my computer desktop you will find a document named 'Limits'. Please read it and update it based on your preferences.

I also need you to prepare a list for me of things you need to have taken care of while you are here: your apartment, your job, those types of things. For instance do you have any family that need to be notified?

The playroom has not been used in over two years, and it is dusty. I would like you to clean it, all of it. I will inspect it and if I find you have missed anything you will be punished. While you are cleaning it I want you to choose your punishment for this morning's failure, from among the many options available therein. If I think you have been too lenient on yourself I will choose and your punishment will be worse.

Finally, you need to establish an exercise regimen. Try to do that today. I will review it and if you have any difficulties in creating it I can help you. You should try to work out today.

Peter will leave shortly but will be back to prepare dinner. I expect he will arrive around four thirty. You must remain naked until he arrives. Offer to help him with dinner."

As I spoke I admired Claire's cunt, now just a slit, but still leaking my cum. I remembered how she had felt around my cock, and as I did my cock began to rise. By the time I was finished talking it was fully erect and Claire was staring at it avidly.

"Before I go, I want to feel your lips on my cock. You have five minutes to make me come, otherwise you will receive further punishment."

Startled, she said, "Yes, Master," then leaped forward pushing me onto my back, her hands grabbing my cock. Her lips wrapped themselves around the head of my cock and she began to circle my glans with her tongue. One hand left my cock momentarily, and when it return it was well lubricated. I realized she had gathered the remains of my cum and lubrication from her cunt to assist her. Then her other hand did the same. She began to slide her hands up and down my cock as she continued to lick and suck on the head.

A minute later I was rock hard and one hand slid down around my balls and began to massage them. The other descended further as my cock slid to the back of her mouth. I lifted my knees and her fingers probed for my anus, rubbing around it before sliding two fingers gently inside. They began to softly massage my prostate, and I could not help but release a groan.

Looking down at her I caught her looking up at me, hunger on her face, her lips stretched around my cock, cheeks sunken inward




Claire Reborn Ch. 05



The combined effect was amazing. Then, still looking at me, she took the head of my cock into her throat. It was a tight fit, but combined with the tongue, suction and a swallowing action in her throat that was incredible it wasn't long before I felt my balls begin to draw up. She must have felt it as well as she took a moment to delay my orgasm by withdrawing to catch her breath, licking her lips lasciviously while looking me straight in the eye and squeezing my balls. Then her face descended again to devour my cock as the two fingers in my ass began to press in earnest; her hand squeezing my balls just right.

I groaned as I felt the cum rise in me, spewing into her throat. After the third spurt she drew back and took the rest in her mouth. She continued to circle the head of my cock with her tongue until I couldn't stand it any more and pushed her off. She moved back to full present position as I sat up, opened her mouth to show me the cum then swallowed, licking her lips.

"Mmm, thank you, Master," she simpered at me.

I had totally lost track of the time, but I'm pretty sure she met the five minute limit. I was surprised but definitely not disappointed.

I grinned at her. "I think you're bordering on arrogance but I'll forgive you this time. Well done, pet. You surprised me."

She positively beamed, totally having forgotten her stolen orgasm.

"Attend." Sighing, she relaxed into the simpler position.

"Tell me about yourself. What makes Claire Claire?"

She did not seem to hold much back as she spent the next thirty minutes relating her life story. I now understood a lot more about how she came to be such a fine fit for me.

"I will have a barre installed in the exercise room so that you may continue with your ballet practice. We'll have to find you a studio nearby where you can continue your training." 

I told her about myself. At thirty seven I was considerably older than her twenty two. My parents had owned the house I now lived in. When I was nineteen they had died in a small plane crash in the Lesser Antilles while on vacation. As a result I was left very well off, both due to their personal fortunes and also their substantial life insurance policies with double indemnity for accidental death. I'd gone to the Southern California Institute of Architecture. On graduating a classmate and I set up shop in L.A. designing and building homes for the rich and famous.

We'd always thought we should go where the money was. That was what had brought me to Hong Kong. We'd expanded our offices there recently, having already branched out to Seattle, DC, Atlanta and New York.

I'd been a competitive swimmer in college and even tried out for the Olympic Team, just missing a placement.

I came to the lifestyle through Julie, who I met at college. We had quickly discovered that we fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Shortly afterward I had the playroom built in what had been a recreation room. Over the many years I had added features; designing and building some of them myself.

After we talked I dressed, kissed Claire on the forehead and left for work.

(To be continued)

Claire Reborn

Copyright 2014 by H Mauthor

Posted with permission at Literotica.com

All other rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. To the best of the author's knowledge, none of the events depicted ever occurred. Claire, Jack and others are fictional characters. Their views, opinions, and experiences are invented as well and are not meant to promote anyone's personal beliefs or agenda. This story exists for primarily prurient purposes and should not be construed as an endorsement, or condemnation, of any particular lifestyle.