0 comments/ 43986 views/ 0 favorites His Ch. 02 By: whores Master He sensed a change in her then. The look in her eyes was different and her posture was more submissive, so he released her and helped her to the couch. He got her a drink and massaged her calves and then her shoulders. She melted under his touch, knowing that he did care for her, and she was happy that she was his. When she was rested, he picked up his leash and fastened it to her collar. "Throughout your life, you will be tested many times and many ways. Some things that happen may merely be a test or they may just be random occurrences. You must assume that everything is a test. A test to reinforce your commitment and resolve as mine. In the next few days, I intent to train you in the way you will life from now on. Consider every task, no matter what it is, to be both training and a test. Do you understand, little one?" "Yes Master." He stood up and pulled her leash. She stood and followed him. "On the floor," he commanded. She dropped to her hands and knees and followed him as he led her about the room. Stopping, starting, pulling her up and then forcing her down. He walked her through the paces until he was satisfied, then took her back to the room and removed the leash. "You will wear this collar at all times. It is a symbol of my possession of you. Others will see it and know you are under the control of a Master. Only fools will attempt to gain your attention, and you will recognize them as that. You are mine now. You are under my control. You are for my desires. You serve at my pleasure. And you are under my protection. Do you understand?" "Yes Master." "I need to make a few calls. Put these on while I am busy." He held up a matching pair of white lace panties and bra, then handed them to her as he left the room. She dressed and waited, shaking in anticipation. Soon he returned and sat in the chair across from her. "Please me" he said. She was unsure about what he wanted, but she rose and began to sway and slowly dance before him. Turning sensuously and moving so that he could see her body. She could soon tell that he was pleased by his obvious arousal. She moved between his legs and bent over him and waited for his hands to touch her. His hands touched her face and then moved down her body, tracing her shape and molding her flesh with his firm power. She was breathless and she leaned closer for his kiss of approval. Instead, he pushed her down to the floor and took her head in his hands. "You are not in control," he said. She reeled back slightly, for she was only seeking his approval and blessing through a physical act. He held her chin in his hand and looked directly in her eyes. "You will respond to my needs, not I to yours." And he stood and pulled her up and led her to the frame again. Her heart raced in panic as she realized he planned to restrain her again. She prayed that he would not whip or paddle her again so hard. She was thrilled from the sting of the paddle and the whispy pain of the cat on her breasts, but the continued assault from before had gone beyond painful pleasure to simply pain. She didn't make a sound and struggled to be sure not to show any defiance as he secured her wrists. He looped the cord through the eyelet and hoisted her up. He did not secure her ankles. He retrieved more cord and came to her and removed her bra. Her breasts felt warm even though the room was cool. She felt her nipples harden from the temperature, but mostly from excitement. He licked and sucked her nipples, stiffening them even more, until she felt that warm liquidy sensation run down from her chest to her stomach and then further below. She felt flushed and needy, but fought to remain calm and quiet as he played. When he was satisfied, he began to wrap the cord around her breasts, crossing over from one breast to the other and when he had a few rounds circling each breast, he looped between them causing them to tighten. Her breasts were forced into conical shapes and stuck straight out. They were swollen from the constriction and were red. He tied off the cord and stood back looking at his work for a moment. Then he reached for her nipples and teased them. Flicking them with his fingers...Pinching them and pulling them. Rolling them between his fingers and thumbs. She was almost faint from the strength of the sensations, and felt like she would burst. And then he stopped and took his seat again, gazing at her there in that awful situation, her body on fire.... tied up.... her breasts tortured from his attentions and the cords. And she would have done anything for relief. She tried to stay focused on her role, and struggled to stay still. He laughed and said "Now who has enticed whom?" "You have, Master," she replied. And with that, he came to her and reached into her panties and felt her wetness and rubbed her and fingered her until she heaved and shook under the orgasms. Then he loosed her restraint and lowered her arms and untied her wrists. He pushed her down where she stood and unzipped his pants. His cock lept out and he pushed her head toward it. She looked up for approval before she sucked it deep into her mouth. Later when she was alone in her room, she lay thinking about the day. A shiver ran through her as she wondered what tomorrow would bring. (next...going out) His Ch. 02 A bolt in the ceiling, the metal dull, gray, in the harsh light. She didn't know where the light was from. She remembered his leading of her into the room. The room was bland, sparsely decorated. Nothing of any memorable features to be found. She felt a dull throb in her shoulders. A brief test, an attempt to roll knots the knots loose, proved futile. She wrinkled her nose in confusion, a struggle to remember. A pinprick of light flowers in her thoughts. The dart of a pink kitten tongue across parched lips. She remembers bruising kisses, bitten lips. Memories play across tortured flesh like a dulcimer hammer. The dull thud in her shoulders turning into needles. Her eyes lift, pupils dilating as they focus in on leather and rope. Wrists banded together in butter-soft leather, tight, biting into the skin. Hands clasped together, folded in prayer to her god. A rope, wound about her hands, strung though leather and fingers tethering her to the ceiling. Her mind is brought back into focus. She could have been here minutes or hours. The last thing she remembered was a scream of pain, the stinging whip of a belt across her ass. A blazing streak of red leads like a path to her cunt, a marker of where the tip of the belt licked her clit, hurling her cruelly into orgasmic spasms, blacking her out. Her head arches back at the sound of a door opening. She knows better than to turn her head, to reassure herself that it really is him who came back into the room, and not a stranger. A chill traverses her skin. She knows he's staring at her, a buyer inspecting cattle for perfection. She feels his heat at her back, his breath hot on her neck. "You didn't think I was done with my cunt yet, did you?" There's a mirth in his tone. Her muscles relax a little. He's no longer upset with her. She took her punishments until now, a good girl. The feel of a hand at her throat tenses her again. A trickle of moisture glistens at her cunt, threatening to raindrop to the floor. Her feet are still splayed apart, forced apart by the bindings at her ankles. She's bent slightly forward, back arched, placing her ass on theatrical display. Just because he's pleased with her doesn't mean that he's done punishing her. Fingers that stroke her throat gently, erotically tantalizing, stop. A slow increasing pressure on her neck. "Tell me what you want me to do. Be my good girl, and I'll stop." Teasing fingers trace patterns across her neck. He moves in, his other arm encircling her waist. She whimpers in soft irritation, fabric blocking her from the sensation she craves, skin against skin. The dart of his tongue across the edge of her ear. A sharp intake of breath rattles her breathing. She bites down against her bottom lip in time with his feel of his teeth on her earlobe. His hands leave her body, rattle around in his pocket. He produces a delicate looking pair of nipple clamps, a sweetly agonizing adornment for him to decorate her with. He holds them up before her, allowing her to see what comes next. "Pretty girl, lovely cunt. What better way for you to show your devotion than by wearing my gifts?" Fingers tease at her right nipple, a small raspberry against a honey background, fruit ripe, only his for the picking. Both clips in his right hand, he slides his left arm around her, her right breast roughly handled, flesh bruised, her nipple a hard pebble against his palm. Soft groans escape her throat, leg muscles tight, her cunt walls spasm in want around air. He repeats the same motions at her other breast. Moisture trickles from her. A squeak of protest escapes her when he pulls rudely from her, her body shaking at the sudden lack of contact. Seconds pass, and still, nothing. The feel of his hands left her greedy and wanting. More time, a minute, a lifetime. She calls out. "Please. I need..." She trails off, never able to complete the need without his prompting. A minute more, her thighs now slick with want. Stars strike across her vision, the sting of his hand across her face. Never to bruise, only for her undivided attention. "Really, my precious, my sweet, wet cunt, you must learn to tell me what you need." A cruelly loving smile twists his lips. He strokes her nipples one final time before applying the clamps. A hiss of air sucks in through clenched teeth. The rough scratch of beard against the soft angles of her face, his mouth glues to her. His kiss parts her lips, his tongue seeking out the hidden corners of her mouth, as if searching to pull her soul into his being. She whimpers again, struggling against bonds not allowing her access to touch him. Fingers slip down her form, trailing drag lines in their wake. Mews of agonized pleasure break the silence. "Tell me what you need. Be a good girl, and then you can come." His fingers roughly part her labia, middle and ring finger barging into her cunt an uninvited, very welcome guest. He pulls them slowly, so slowly from her, muscles rippling around his fingers, small vices trying to keep his hand buried deep. He feels her cunt pulse, her body shaking, begging to be filled again. With wet caresses, he circles her clit, alternating between fast and slow. He played her body like a beloved stringed instrument, plucking at the nerve running from nipples to cunt. She lets out a sigh, jaw slack. He's pushing her out of herself, keeping the tightrope between agony and ecstasy taut, her balance on the wire shaky. He sinks to his knees. A warm puff of moist air rolls across her cunt. A flood threatens to break through, past his fingers, to coat his hand. He pulls his fingers from her, slaps her cunt. Her eyes water at the sting, at his bringing her back to attention. He's not ready for her to fall over the edge. A moan in sweet pain. Her eyes roll back in her head. He slaps her cunt, again. "Look at me. I want my toy to see how I play with her." She fights to keep her focus locked on him, only him, nothing but him. He breathes in the scent of her. A slick of spit across her clit send tremors through her. Athena bound before him, his to do with what he wants. Helpless to fight against the onslaught of his lust. He drags his tongue from clit to asshole, back again, stopping to probe his tongue into her depths. She whimpers, rocking her hips, trying to fuck his tongue like a cock. He ministers to her for a while longer, until he senses she's ready to break. Un-gluing his mouth from her cunt, he looks up at her face, his face bathed in her juice. Soon, too soon. He leaves her on the edge of a precipice. Agony written across her visage. Terrified he'll leave her without coming. He knows her too well. "What scares you more, pet? That your pleasure is mine to give, or deny? Or that I'm on my knees before you?" Her voice is shaky, quiet. He watches her screw up her nose in concentration, her mind at war with her body. "That you're on your knees. That you would be giving me pleasure, when I'm yours to please you. I should be on my knees." He smiles, his fingers light on her inner thighs. "You are giving me pleasure. You're my toy to make do what I wish. And I wish to worship at my altar." Still kneeling, he undoes the ties at her ankles, rubbing them for a moment to bring circulation back. Standing, he undoes the rope that tethers her to the ceiling, slowly lowering her arms. Hands still bound together, he roughly guides her to her knees. The sound of his pants being undone runs parallel to the sight of cock coming into her line view. His hand pets the top of her head, gently, before gabbing her hair, forcing her mouth to meet his cock. He rapes her mouth, the head of his cock at the back of her throat gagging her, until she times her breathing to match his thrusts. He fucks her mouth, her tongue licking, flicking along his length. He pushed her from him, her mouth gaped open at the loss. He pressed her to the ground, shoulders, her cheek, pressed rudely to the floor. A rustle of fabric, a rush of air. He positions her, ass high in the air, cunt once again on display. He dips a finger into her, testing the waters of her pool. Hot, so hot, wet, soft velvet. Custom made to fit his cock perfectly. "Oh, my wet, wet girl. Sweet, so sweet, like nectar offered to your god." He runs his fingers along her labia, parting her, spreading her. Open. "Tell me what you want, cunt girl. Tell me what you need." He produced a small vibrator from the cast-offs of his clothing. He turned it on, the hum buzzing in the air like static electricity. He pressed his cock at her entrance, pulling back each time she tried to impale herself. He ran the vibrator along the outside of her cunt, leaving her blisteringly aware of the marked absence of direct stimulation. "Beg." Her breathing is shallow, ragged. Words pour from her, bidden by him. The girl come undone. "Please, please.." Her voice a discorded symphony in plea. "Fuck me, just fuck me! Hard, hard, so hard, make it hurt, make it deep, please, fill me, make me, break me, fuck me..." There's no rhyme or reason to her pleas, only raw need and emotion. He slams himself into her, invading her depths. He pauses, so deep, letting her adjust to the fullness. "My sweet, beautiful cunt. Precious girl. Just hold on a little longer. Good girl." A sound, a kitten sob. He grasps her hip with his left hand, harsh. An imprint of his hand will remain as a reminder of this. He plays staccato strokes of the vibrator across her clit, slamming into her again. His voice is thick with desire. "Come for me. Now." She breaks, a torrent of wet pouring from her. Cunt muscles contact around his cock, a vice squeezing, milking him. A scream of pleasure is pulled from her, sweat pooling at the base of her spine. Keeper of her soul, god of her religion, he slams into her over and over, keeping her at the pinnacle of orgasm. Hot light dances across her vision, white, heat flushing her chest, her face. He undoes the clamps at her nipples, his cock rock hard, iron hard, forged steel hard, ripping her open. The rush of blood causes sweet pain, sending her into a blissful oblivion as he fucks her, fucks her harder, harder still, the feel of his cock as he gushes his spend into her. They both collapse on the floor, him on top of her, heavy. A blanket of protection for her psyche, the weight of him. She lies there, limp. He rolls off of her, pulling her to him. He undoes the bindings of her hands, her wrists. He wraps his arms around her, laying her head to his shoulder, stroking feverish skin. His rag doll. Shudders slowly turn to slight tremors at his caresses. He allows her to calm, time meaningless. He lays a kiss to her sweat-drenched brow. "Good girl. My sweet, good cunt. What are you thinking?" He wants everything, each thought belonging to him. She is his, more than just body. Thoughts and emotions are owned by the one who creates. She slowly lifted her head to meet his eyes. A smile played a game of hide and seek at the corners of her lips. "Henry doesn't leave Anais this time." His Ch. 02 And now, his Pet lay there, hips elevated by the pillow as her Master's seed flowed deep into her. Her mind raced, dizzied by the intensity of the orgasms she had just experienced. She turned her dark eyes to meet her Master's. "Did you really mean it?" she finally asked, her voice small. "Mean what, my pet?" "About the pills... did you really, truly mean it?" Her voice was not full of fear, but rather of hope; she had longed for this day with every fiber of her being for so, so long. But part of the allure of total submission included allowing him to make this choice. He was, after all, her master although his power came entirely from her willingness to submit. And submit she did, no more so than in this very moment as his seed seeped deep into her waiting womb. She panted, staring up at him for the much awaited answer. "You'll see." Her eyes went wide and she began to squirm "What do you mean, I'll see? That's not an answer, and you know it." "Well, pet," he began, tracing lazy lines around her chest, glistening with the sweat from their lovemaking, "When these begin to swell..." he squeezed a breast, grinning at her gasp and obvious arousal despite her frustration. The line continued downwards, his finger dancing lightly over her soft stomach "And this follows suit, I think it will become apparent. As will, of course, you and I." Chuckling softly at his pun, he kissed her gently, his lips pressing firmly to hers. She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent, not even noticing him untying her until her hands were released. "There's my pet. Now, roll over on your side so I can hold you." He commanded, running his hands over her curves as she complied, "Good girl." Those two words never ceased to make her moan, the sweetness of them somehow also sexy. His hands caressed her, massaging her wide hips and then moving upwards, finally resting on her slightly soft belly, pulling her close to him. She could not help, in that singular moment, to imagine them in perhaps eight months time, her belly round and swollen with their child, heavy in his hand as they lay like this, her swollen breasts resting atop it. She rested her head back on his chest, feeling his breaths as he held her tight. Could there be any feeling more complete than being wrapped in her master's arms, his seed flowing deep into her waiting body? It became a new daily ritual in the little world contained in that house. Every day, he would return home, call for her, and every day he would tie her waiting, willing body to that bed and fill her to the brim with his hot seed. And then it happened- she was late. At first, she could not believe it, checking her phone app and the calendar twice. But one day passed, and then two. So on the third day, his Pet went to their room and quickly changed into some clothing. She was going out. Clad simply in jeans and a tshirt, long cardigan over it and hair up in a ponytail, she drove to the store. First, the usual shopping. Milk, eggs, butter. And then into the "family planning" aisle. She browsed the shelves, finally selecting a test both cheap and effective, and rushed through the checkout line, practically speeding home. She threw the groceries into the fridge, barely stopping to close the door on her way to the bathroom. This was it. And in a few minutes, minutes of pacing and checking the clock again and again, she had her answer. Looking in the mirror, she smiled down, placing a hand on her slightly pudgy abdomen. "Hello in there," she whispered, overwhelmed. Before it had been just a fantasy, a naughty fantasy that had occupied a corner of her sexuality for as long as she could remember. But now, now her master had impregnated her and she would grow for him, change for him. Biting her lip, she smiled a bit to herself. "He's had his game, little one, getting you here... how about we play one of our own? Let's see how long my attentive master takes to realize what's going on in here..." smiling wickedly to herself, she went about her business yet again, only taking some time to schedule a doctor's appointment for a time when he wouldn't be home. He'd had his fun, that was true, but where was the enjoyment in a relationship if she let him have all the fun and all the power? She'd tell him in her own time, and when she did, he could ravish her as he saw fit.