Her Master's Courtesan (4 page)

I left the paddle beside her – a reminder of what becomes of women who misbehave. Deciding to leave her bound for the night, I didn’t speak another word to her before exiting the room, finally to a point where I was spent enough to shower and find sleep.

~ Rebecca ~

I opened my eyes to discover that I’d been left in the terrifying darkness. Night and day could have passed and I wouldn’t have known. There was nothing, not even the smallest hint of light dancing through a window or from under a door. My body hurt, especially my wrists where they’d been bound by the thin cord. I felt swollen between my legs and there was an uncomfortable and noticeable stickiness that made my stomach turn and forced bile up my throat.

I don’t remember being brought here and I’m unsure how he was able to move me without being seen. We’d walked the rest of the exhibit after I met him. He seemed friendly enough –good looking and smart. He had an air about him that spoke of power and prestige, of wealth and influence in the community. I never suspected he could be a kidnapper or rapist. I thought I’d been careful by staying in public with him. We’d gone for coffee, but even then we hadn’t been in any place where we weren’t surrounded by other people. I’d gone to the restroom once and left my drink unattended. That was the only way I could think of how he could have done this.

He’d been so charming at first, but now, looking back, there were signs of his aggression. If I stepped too far away, he would move closer again, always with his hand resting on some part of my body. I was attracted to him so I was more elated at the gesture than frightened. After an hour of spending time with him, his tone of voice changed. It was stern, forceful in the way he instructed me to turn a certain direction when we walked down the street or to sit once we’d selected a table in the coffee shop. I didn’t think anything of it and I was somewhat turned on by a man who was obviously used to getting what he wanted.

And then the next thing I know, I’m waking up in this room. The tears were immediate after the confusion had worn off and I discovered the chains at my ankles. In the dark, I was able to surmise that I was on a heavy bed, the metal frame rough and cold beneath my fingers. I called out into the darkness and screamed when the full weight of my situation finally soaked in. Thoughts of my family and friends battered at my mind – I wondered if they knew yet that something had happened to me?

When he entered the room, I couldn’t see anybody and I was still confused regarding what happened. I tried to remain calm, to remember the stupid advice I’d heard from police shows and talk shows about what to do if you were the victim of this type of crime. I remembered the girls who’d survived were the ones that remained level headed, who’d been cunning enough to escape their captor. I asked for his name and when he answered, I knew the voice instantly. It was smooth as satin, the deep baritone that created gentle waves of ease inside those that heard him speak. The same voice that had seduced me that day in front of a painting portraying a bound woman being fucked from behind.

He made me that woman. He was on me so fast; I couldn’t shake the stupor of my shock. My eyes welled with tears and the pain of his grip burned into my face and throat. The things he said to me angered me … demanding that I obey, or submit or whatever else the sick bastard had
instructed
. I knew he was going to rape me. I could sense the excitement in his body. It was as if he emitted a pheromone that warned of the primal instinct for violence within him. My attraction to him became disgust and then he did something that broke me like I’d never imagined I could be: He used my own body against me. I wanted to vomit when he touched me for the first time. Every instinct inside me told me to fight. His questions drove me mad. Of course, I didn’t want him to fuck me and no matter what answer I gave, it was the wrong one - because there was no right answer. That bastard was toying with me from the minute he’d walked into the room.

He made me orgasm three times before he finally violated me in a way I’ve never been before. I cried the whole time; mad at the way my body responded to him, at the way I had no control over the inferno he built inside, or the edge he pushed me over.

I’d cried so much after he left that my lids felt swollen shut. I could barely open my eyes – not that I could see anyway with the heavy blanket of inky black that permeated the space.

Minutes, hours, days could have gone by as I lay there. My mouth was dry and my hips ached from being held in the same position on the mattress. I attempted to shift my weight to alleviate the pain, but it only led to more discomfort on my wrists. From the stinging burn, I knew the skin was split.

The door clicked open and light flooded in, blinding me from its intensity. His silhouette stepped into the doorway – broad shoulders, the same width of the frame, and a torso that angled down into a thin waist. He stood with his feet slightly apart and it only added to his large appearance. He was strong, I remembered that from when he’d lifted me off the mattress with one hand and held me against the wall.

I turned my head into the pillow not wanting to see the man that stood in the room with me. I heard him step forward, heard the door close behind him and the sound of him picking the paddle up off the floor. I used my face to knock it away from me last night – I couldn’t stand the feel of the cold wood up against my cheek, reminding me of the pain he’d inflicted on my body.

Another door in the room opened and closed, the distinct sound of a metal lock sliding shut.

The silence was aggravating.  I wanted to scream again, to cry or do something that would break up the suffocating
nothingness
of the cold room. I didn’t know where he stood and I didn’t know from which direction he would attack me again. I jumped when he finally spoke.

“I’m going to release you from your binds. You will follow me to the bathroom without speaking and you will bathe yourself. Once that is accomplished you will follow me back into this room. If you speak or make a move other than what I specifically instruct, you will not like the consequences.”

I heard steps approaching and when they stopped, his voice boomed out above me.

“You will refer to me as
Master
. You will only speak to me when I’ve asked you a direct question.”

I didn’t answer. Despite my nascent understanding that I was to submit to his demands, I couldn’t bring myself to respond and tell him that I would, in fact, submit. The idea rubbed across my thoughts like sandpaper – irritating and crude – the acts he’d already committed against me, making me detest him with such vehemence that I imagined returning to him the same level of violence. It was the first time I’d ever considered hurting another person and I felt the heavy weight of disgust with myself for believing that I would enjoy harming him, even though he was intent on harming me.

He approached the bed and I felt his large hands freeing the thin cord that bound my wrists. When the cord finally slipped loose and my hands fell from the metal frame, I sucked in a breath in reaction to the pain of the air brushing up against my wounds. He must have noticed.

“We’ll have to wrap your wrists after you bathe. I cannot see the severity of the injury in this room, but I will inspect them when we are in proper light. It is not my intent to mark your body with ugly scars. It was your own stubbornness that left me with no choice.”

I scoffed and the breath blowing out of my mouth at the instinctive reaction surprised me. It was only natural for me to react; he kidnapped me, most likely drugged me, beat me and raped me after binding my hands – and now he stood here placing the blame for his violence on my actions? I couldn’t help but be appalled by his logic.

He must have noticed my reaction as well, because he stopped loosening the chains around my ankles and the room grew silent once again. After a few seconds, I could no longer take the empty void created by the lack of light and sound in the room. I kicked my leg to hear the chain rattle and I felt his hand grip around the leg that I’d moved.

Aggravation was apparent in his voice when he spoke, “I have, just now, returned to you your ability to move and the first thing you do with it is act in defiance.” It was a direct statement – not a question or a simple observation. No. He was making a point once again and my anger burst out of me when I realized what he was doing. His statement would lead somewhere, possibly to
punishment
or another
lesson
, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to give in and I would disobey if I felt like it. From what he told me the last time he used me, this would be my life from now on. I was nothing more than a
tool
and a
cunt
for his use. I realized quickly that death – regardless of how painful and violent it would be – was more appealing than living life as a vagina on legs, existing only to sheath his dick.

I kicked out again with the other leg and he grabbed that one as well. He didn’t speak again, instead closing his fingers around my ankles, digging the nails into the skin and I cried out from the pain. His strength was astonishing; something I wouldn’t have imagined when I first met him.  He seemed only to be a man of refinement; one who obviously took care of his body, but not one you would suspect could crush something in the palm of his hand. I attempted to pull my legs free of his grip, but it only served to make him squeeze tighter. I kept waiting for the telltale snap of my bone being broken, but it never came. The blood to my feet was being cut off by his grip and it felt like pins and needles in my toes. Eventually, I stopped struggling, tears once again falling from my eyes to realize the true futility of my situation.

“I understand it is your natural instinct to want to disobey me. You’ve lived a life of privilege and freedom of choice; therefore I do not assume that you’ll easily release your hold on that freedom. However, with every act of defiance comes punishment. You must understand now, that in the new life I have given you, I do not want to punish you. You are the only person who can ask for it and you do so by doggedly holding on to that which I have taken away – by holding on to the belief that you have a choice. Remember what I’ve just told you and think about it when I do what I must now do.”

I cringed at his words and realized their honesty when, instead of removing the chains at my ankles as he’d previously been doing, he removed them from the bed. I couldn’t see him but I could hear the chains moving.

Without warning, I was dragged from the bed to the floor, landing hard on the solid surface of the cold tile and crying out in pain. My bare skin from beneath where my dress had bunched up was dragged across the rough surface of the floor and I reached out in vain, attempting to grasp onto any object I could find that would stop him from dragging me along.

When we reached the doorframe, my head hit the frame as he dragged me through and he didn’t stop or hesitate in concern of the blow to my skull. I gripped around the wood with my fingers, but again, my strength couldn’t match his. He tugged once and my fingernails felt like they were being ripped from my hand by the force of his pull. Sharp tendrils of pain shot up my fingers and I released my grip instantly, pulling them to my body in an effort to stop the pain. I opened my swollen eyes against the light in the hall, but couldn’t focus on the specific details. The hallway was also tiled and the length spoke of a large house. By the time we reached the bathroom, the skin of my hips burned from the friction against the rough stone floor.

He secured the chain around a large iron pipe that ran the length of the wall and without speaking; he turned and exited the room.  I blinked my eyes repeatedly in an attempt to bring the room into focus.  By the time I was able to get my vision adjusted to the light and when I could make out the features of the bathroom, he returned carrying a large bucket, the contents of which I could not see.  He placed the bucket on the other side of the room and walked to the tub to turn on the water. After plugging the tub, he watched as the bath filled, never looking at me until a few moments had passed and he turned the water off.  Moving back to the bucket, he picked it up and dumped the contents into the bath.