Her Master's Courtesan (10 page)

“Do NOT speak to me in that tone again. Do you understand me? I will not put up with your obstinacy any longer.”

I cowered away from him and his grip tightened in my hair. He pulled me back up, his free hand reaching out and I turned my face away, desperate to avoid his touch. Gripping my chin, he pulled my face back to him, sliding his thumb over something wet and slippery on my lip. A smile curled one corner of his mouth and when he held his hand up, I saw the crimson stain of my blood on his skin.

“This is the first time I’ve drawn blood on you. Had you not acted like a spoiled fucking BRAT, it wouldn’t have happened.”

He threw me across the table, bending over me and locking a chain on the D-ring of my collar. While holding the chain in his hand, he turned and walked to the cabinets, opening one and selecting a metal bowl.

The metal clanged against the wood of the table when he slammed the bowl down next to me. I jumped at the sound and watched with wide eyes when he dumped the food from my plate into the bowl.

He placed the bowl on the ground and he kicked it away a few feet from where we stood.

“Eat.”

He didn’t look at me when he gave the single word command, but the edge of his tone hinted at an underlying rage that threatened to explode. I looked down at the bowl and stared at it. My eyes followed the way the light arced off the rounded silver dish, how the shadow of the bowl fell across the floor, spread out and warped. The tail attached to the plug slapped against the backs of my thighs and he jangled the leash so that it brushed up against my skin.

The tears started again when I realized exactly what he was doing – when I realized that the term ‘pet’ was more than just an affectionate name.

“I suggest you drop to your knees and crawl to your dish as quickly as possible. It upsets me when an animal won’t eat her food.”

I don’t know what was worse, the contained anger I heard in his voice before – or the cold steel tone in which he now spoke. It was terrifying – the lack of emotion sending chills across my skin. He placed his hand on my shoulder to nudge me along and I went to my knees, obediently and without complaint.

Something happened in that moment – something that I couldn’t quite understand or even describe. I’d been reduced to an animal, a
pet
and when I felt the cold, hard surface of the tile beneath my knees and when my palms met that surface, my pride was shredded. When I placed one hand in front of the other, crawling on all fours with a tail beating between my legs, my heart fractured. When I felt the pain of the plug moving inside me, my soul was crushed.

But when I reached the bowl and bent down to eat with tears streaming down my face – when he kicked the bowl away even farther, laughing to watch me crawl – and when he hit me against my ass with the flogger he held in his hand …

… My mind was completely and utterly destroyed.

~ Aiden ~

She’d been argumentative at first, disrespectful and prideful in the way she reacted to my demand for control. I wouldn’t be pushing her as hard as I am now if she hadn’t been. My curiosity about this woman was peaked however, by the little bits of spirit I continued to observe behind the abused body and red rimmed eyes.

In my experience, by this point in the training, most women had little left in the way of their former personality. I’d learned over the years that all it took to force submission was a well-blended mixture of pain and humiliation, shame and the lack of hope. If she’d been any other woman, I would have planned to start shaping her broken mind the following day - but Rebecca wasn’t giving up easily, and despite the fact that physically, she’d submitted, there was still something
wild
inside her.

When I’d first caught sight of her golden hair in the park on that brilliant sunlit day, my attention had been instantaneous. She laughed beside two friends, each girl with a book in their hand and their legs folded beneath them on a picnic blanket in the grass. It was obvious they enjoyed each other’s company by the smiles that lit their faces. However, Rebecca’s smile, broad and toothy – perfectly relaxed and carefree – that’s what stole my focus. Her hair fell forward in her face when she laughed at something her friend had said and light glinted off the rippled water of the distant lake, bouncing sparks of light around her.

To be fair, each girl was beautiful. There were three blondes that fit the description of the woman I’d set out to acquire. Any would have been worth the price I was being paid, but out of the three, Rebecca was the one I wanted – the one who looked like she’d be worth the time it took to train her. She was exquisite – a seraphic spirit that was so bright, it attracted me unlike anything I’d felt before. In the three days that I followed her, each different aspect of her life I discovered made her more of an intrigue.

However, in those three days, I’d never noticed anything about her habits, her friends, or her mannerisms that suggested or even hinted towards the blatant strength she has inside her. She continues to surprise me and I considered the prospect that I would have to let her go in six short days. I needed more time and I toyed with the idea of calling the buyer when I was done with this particular lesson to garner an extension.

She crawled slowly towards the bowl and each time I kicked the bowl away, her shoulders sagged more with despair and humiliation. Yet, she continued crawling – despite knowing that I would once again force the metal bowl over the tiles with a small tap of my toe, she kept crawling. Even an animal would have stopped by now to look up at me with confusion in their eyes – but not Rebecca. A brow cocked on my forehead at the peculiarity of her behavior. This was not the same girl that had continued to defy me only moments before.

We reached the bowl again and she waited in front of it without attempting to bend down to eat. Deliberately, I waited to see what she would do. She didn’t move and I assumed she expected I would, once again, kick it away. We stayed like that for several minutes before I realized she was finally learning to wait for permission.

“Very good. You can now eat, pet.”

Immediately she bent down, taking a bit of the meat in her mouth and chewing it slowly. Tears streamed down her face, but she continued eating. Her body shook each time she swallowed and I was concerned she’d get sick all over my floor.

“Are you hungry?”

She swallowed what she had left in her mouth and hesitated a moment before answering. “No, Master.”

“Stand up.”

As she climbed to her feet, I watched the way the muscles of her body flexed beneath her skin. I wanted this woman in every shape, way, or position known to man. I decided that I would have more time with her. I would call the buyer, lie about an unexpected problem and demand additional time. It wasn’t unheard of in this business because some women were stronger or more stubborn than others.

She stood next to me, her head facing the floor. I unhooked the chain from her collar and moved to place it on the table. Turning back, I found her in the same position, absolutely still, waiting for my next command.

“I’m not going to force you to eat if you’re not hungry. Judging by the day you’ve been having, food may not sit well on your stomach and it won’t do me any good for you to be sick. I want to reward you for playing along with my game. Would you like that?”

She didn’t answer immediately and it appeared as though she was searching her thoughts for the correct answer.

“I want what you want.”

The minute her response slipped over her lips, my cock hardened to a point of being painful.

“Good girl.” My voice purred when I spoke the words and every muscle over my body tensed in anticipation of finally sinking myself deep inside the wet heat of her body. “Walk back to the rack. There’s a small wooden stool. Move it beneath the rack and stand on it. Face the wall and wait for me to give you your next instruction.”

She followed my commands perfectly and I admired the black tail that swung from her ass as she walked. Her hips swayed seductively, although I’m sure it was a natural gait more than an attempt at allurement. The wooden stool scraped against the floor when she moved it in place, and with one perfect foot and then another, she climbed up to a height that would provide me with open access.

I waited for a few minutes and allowed silence to overtake the space. Grabbing the scarf as I passed the table, I approached her slowly, walking softly so as not to warn of my proximity to her body. When I stood just behind her, the muscles over her body tensed.  My eyes ran over the peaches and cream complexion of her skin, and the corner of my mouth twitched up into a grin when I could still see the muted rose colored marks from where I’d flogged her before.

Minute by minute ticked by and I knew the wait – the not knowing what I would do next – must have been agonizing for her.  But it was the anticipation I needed to transform my touch, even the softest brush of my skin against hers became contact that would take her breath away.

Slowly, I lifted my arm, brushing the silk up her leg, her ass, her back, and up over her neck and shoulder to place it over her eyes. She gasped as soon as the smooth cloth slid over her. Goosebumps spread across her skin when I tied the cloth at the back of her head.

“Put your arms behind your back.”

She complied and I retrieved the leather shackles for her wrists. After each was secured, I brought the chain up to attach to the rack. The position of her arms forced her to bend forward at the waist. A soft click of metal and she was rendered completely helpless and exposed.

Stepping back, I admired her like I would a rare painting or sculpture. Her figure was slim but still curved perfectly at the hips. Her breasts hung from her body, full and round. Falling across her back like silk, her long hair reached the small dimples just above her waist. Even nude and bound under the rack in my kitchen, she had an innocent dignity about her, a hidden strength and intelligence that I’d not noticed in many of the women I trained. It occurred to me that there was more to this girl than I realized and I wanted nothing more than to pick the locks inside her mind to discover what it was that I was seeing.

I walked to the wall and dimmed the lights above her. The overhead lamp from the stove hood bathed her in white light, refracting off the links of the chains. The camera still sat on the table and I picked it up when I crossed the room to stand behind her.

The silence in the room was punctured by sound of the shutter. Shot after shot after shot – from every angle I could manage. I wanted her to see the beauty in her submission, to admire it as much as she did the painting in the gallery. The photos snapped off and an idea came to me.

“I must admit that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had to pleasure to train. I believe that once you see these photographs – once you are able to see yourself as I do – you’ll understand that your submission is a gift I’ve given you. Had I not found you, you would still be stumbling through life, looking at naughty paintings …” I stepped up so that I stood right behind her, my hips brushing against her ass. “… never discovering what it could be like to be given your sexual freedom.”

After setting the camera down on the nearby counter, I ran my hands up her thighs when I continued. “Every woman wants to be a whore. They want to spread their legs for a man – to be taken to the peak of ecstasy over and over again – to feel the hard push of our cocks inside them. It’s natural for you to want it, to feel the need to be dominated and controlled. It’s instinct. Women want a strong man – one who can produce strong children – so your bodies are designed to respond to a dominant male. You grow wet when we touch you; the muscles of your pussy clench and roll in anticipation of being filled. Because of me, you will have a selection of strong men who will know how to use you properly – who can fulfill every sexual need or desire you will ever have. You don’t have to pretend to be prim and proper anymore because of morality or societal expectations – you can be the whore you were designed to be.”