Kitty looked at her silently from the floor, her mind still blank with shock from the beating.
‘Now,’ said Maisie in a business like voice, ‘Breakfast.’
She sat down next to Kitty, lifted the tea to Kitty’s mouth and fed it to her, holding her head off the floor at the limit of the chain. Kitty drank for a second and then spat it out; forgetting herself for a second.
‘It’s cold!’
Maisie shrugged. ‘Take it or leave it. And address me as Ma’am.’
Their eyes locked for a second, but it was Kitty who looked away first.
‘Ma’am?’
‘Yes?’
‘I really need to go to the toilet.’
‘Try again.’
Kitty frowned in confusion, then realised her mistake.
‘Ma’am, this slave needs to go to the toilet.’ She paused and then added, ‘If it pleases you, Ma’am.’
‘Better,’ said Maisie. ‘Eat first then you can go.’
Kitty nodded in gratitude. Maisie smiled sweetly as she placed the bowl, covered with a pretty napkin, next to the floor hook.
‘You’ll need to get up on to your knees and elbows to eat,’ she said, helpfully. Kitty was starving; she’d last eaten over 36 hours previously and the breakfast smells from the kitchen had only added to her hunger. Awkwardly, she rolled onto her belly, dragging her knees up under her hips and shuffling her elbows until her head was over the bowl and her elbows on either side. Maisie pulled away the napkin as though she was serving up the finest caviar. The smell of the brown mush hit Kitty’s nose and she recoiled.
‘It’s edible and that’s all that matters,’ said Maisie from above her. ‘And if you don’t eat it now, I’ll bring it back for lunch. And then supper. So you will eat it eventually, except it will only smell even worse by then.’
Kitty choked back a sob of despair and dipped her head into the bowl. Somehow, she managed to ignore the smell and the taste which was, if possible, even worse. Using her tongue to scoop up the glop, she slowly ate the meal, although a good deal of it ended up smeared over her face. She could see Maisie’s booted foot tapping with impatience next to her head.
‘Hurry up. The toilet window closes in three minutes.’
Kitty pushed her face further into the bowl, and licked it clean.
‘Well done, slut.’ Maisie took the bowl away and unhooked the floor chain, pushing Kitty back onto her haunches in a kneeling position with her hands tucked under her chin. A voice from behind them made both women jump. M stood in the doorway with a nasty smile on his face.
‘Aw, doesn’t she look sweet! Like a puppy learning to beg,’ he sniffed the air theatrically, ‘But a puppy generally smells a whole lot better!’
Kitty was suddenly aware of all the odours on her body—vomit, food, urine and the pungent sweat of terror that coated her. She hung her head in embarrassment.
Maisie said, ‘Well, Boss, this puppy is about to use the luxury lavatory facilities so the smell will get an awful lot worse.’
With that she lifted Kitty under the armpits and ‘walked’ her across to the manhole cover in the corner of the room. Propping Kitty up against the wall, she removed the metal cover and set it aside.
‘Okay,’ she said, ‘Time to empty your bowels and bladder.’
She moved Kitty so that she was held in a sitting position over the sewer entrance. Kitty was mortified; they were expecting her to perform the most private acts while they watched.
‘I can’t,’ she mumbled, her face stained red with humiliation.
‘Yes, you can,’ said M sharply, ‘Otherwise you will be fed laxatives until you sleep in your own shit. Now do it.’
Burning with shame, Kitty did as she was told with her eyes closed, wishing she could fall down the hole along with the waste from her body.
‘Don’t bother with paper, Maisie,’ said the man. ‘I’m going to give this stinking whore a wash so you can leave the cover off.’ Maisie nodded and set Kitty down on the floor next to the manhole.
‘I’ve put the cage upstairs ready for you to assemble; I’ll take over now.’
Maisie left, taking the empty bowl with her. M came into the room, carrying a short rubber hosepipe which he connected to the cold water tap. Kitty knew what was coming and began to scream.
‘No, no…….aaarrrgh!!’ as he turned the freezing water on her at full blast. He started at her head, playing the stream on her face as she gasped and writhed from the shock of the cold. Soon she was spitting and choking as the jet was concentrated on her mouth, dislodging the food stuck around her lips and nose. He enjoyed the sight immensely, watching her skin go white with cold, throwing the purple welts and black bruises from the earlier beating into sharp relief. After a few minutes she slumped back, numb and exhausted.
‘Turn over,’ he ordered and she obeyed, forcing her face against the rough wall as he narrowed the end of the hose by covering it with his thumb, increasing the force of the water as it hit her back and then down to her genitals. Finally he switched off the tap and hooked the hose in a neat loop.
‘That’s better,’ he said, stepping carefully over the puddles and pulling Kitty to her feet by her collar. He dragged her out the cellar as she tried to walk with the tiny steps allowed by her shackled feet, but the steps defeated her. He picked her up bodily by the neck and swung her into the kitchen. He picked up a rough towel—not one of her soft, fluffy ones—and rubbed her down briskly. As the warmth returned to her skin, she expected the burning pain of the whipping to resume, but strangely it didn’t. As though he could read her mind, M said, ‘Your food contained a new army drug—unlicensed at this stage—which accelerates the healing of skin trauma. It’s a pity that it also kills the pain faster, but that just means that I can beat you more often which has to be a good thing, huh, slut? Do let me know if there are any side effects—you’re the first human trial.’ He grinned as the implications of what he was saying hit her and her eyes widened in panic.
‘Don’t speak,’ he warned, ‘You are only allowed to open that mouth when specifically ordered. Understand?’ She nodded.
He unshackled her wrists but immediately refastened them to the D ring on her collar behind her head so that her elbows were forced out and her breasts, previously protected by her forearms, were exposed and pushed forward. He frowned as he realised they’d been spared the punishment the rest of her body had endured, then smiled at the new possibilities. He knelt down and unfastened her ankles then stood and hooked a finger into her collar, pulling her after him into the living room where the fire was already lit, warming the room.
‘Down,’ he barked and she dropped to her knees, only just keeping her balance.
‘OK, slut,’ he said, kicking her knees apart, ‘There are a few things you need to know. First, my rules. Some Masters issue a list of rules for their slaves to follow at the outset, but to me that means that the slave’s attention can then drift. So my rules will be issued as I make them up and at any time, so you better make sure you hang on my every word. Always. You will follow my rules to the letter. However, I will change them as and when I see fit, and something that is a rule today may be a punishable offence tomorrow.Understand? You may speak.’
‘Yes, Master. Thank you.’
‘Good girl.’ He squatted on his haunches so that he was at her level and spoke softly, ‘What rules have you been given so far, Kitty?’
‘Master, to call you Master and to call Maisie Ma’am and to refer to this slave as, er, this slave, Master.’
He chuckled and patted her cheek.
‘Very good.’
‘And to shave this slave’s pubes daily.’
‘Yes,’ he said, dropping his hand to stroke the bristles starting to grow on her pubic mound and tickling her clitoris with his forefinger at the same time.
‘Anything else?’
‘Master, um, not to wear panties or jewelry?’ she said, desperately wracking her brain while her body decided to concentrate on the movement of his finger.
‘Oh, you needn’t worry about that one anymore,’ he smiled, feeling the moisture starting to seep out of her. M reached out with his other hand and started to tweak her nipples, softly at first but then harder as his fingers—two now—continued to tease her. Kitty’s mind was confused; the excitement in her groin was growing at the same level as the discomfort in her nipples. Her breathing quickened as both the pleasure and the pain increased. He started mauling and twisting one breast—digging his fingers into the flesh and the same time bent his head to the other and licked the nipple gently. As the tempo of his finger-fucking increased so did the pressure of his grip and the licking turned to nipping of both the nipple and the breast. As her orgasm burst he gouged his nailed into one tit and bit the other hard. He waited until her gasps of pleasure became ‘ouch’s’ then loosened his grip and withdrew his fingers at the same time.
‘Clean,’ he said, sticking his fingers in her mouth. She licked them thoroughly, enjoying the taste of her juices. ‘From now on your orgasms will always be accompanied by pain until the two are synonymous. From there you will learn to cum from pain alone—repeatedly.’
‘Yes, Master. Thank you.’ She looked up at him as he stood.
‘Rule,’ he said, his mood changing abruptly, ‘You do not make eye contact with me, or anyone unless expressly permitted by me. Anyone.’ he repeated for emphasis. ‘Your eyes must not go above waist level. It encourages a lack of concentration for a slave’s eyes to wander all over the place.’
‘Yes, Master,’ replied Kitty, her eyes on his feet.
M looked down at her, kneeling obediently and silently at his feet and felt a surge of pride at her progress in just 24 hours.
‘Next rule. It is very important that your posture shows your total submission and availability at all times, to me or to anyone I give you too. Your legs will kept apart at all times. If your ankles are tied your knees will be spread. Your cunt, your mouth, and your arse will always be open and your tits always displayed. Straighten your back, push them out and open your mouth slightly.’
‘Good,’ he said as she adopted the classic slave ‘display’ position with her head back and her eyes on his crotch.
‘Now drop down on your face with your arse in the air.’ Kitty’s elbows only just broke her fall and she let out an ‘ooof’ as her forehead hit the rug.
‘Hmmm, a hour of yoga a day will make you less like a sack of potatoes.’
Moving behind her he pushed her legs a little further apart so he could see her still wet sex and anus. Taking a heavy stainless steel butt-plug from his pocket he dipped it into her cunt—making her gasp from the cold metal – and, without warning, rammed it into her arse. Kitty couldn’t stop herself crying out at the sudden pain, but as he held it in place, she relaxed her muscles and accepted the
strangely comforting weight inside her.
‘I’m going to sit you up now—do not let the plug fall out,’ he warned as he gripped her shoulder and dragged her back onto her knees. Kitty felt the pull of gravity and squeezed her buttocks together. After a few tense moments, she breathed out but daren’t move in case the plug slipped out. He slipped his hand back into his pocket and brought out two small bulldog clips. Gently, he pulled one nipple until it was erect, then closed the first clip over it. Kitty’s shoulders pulled back involuntarily at the sharp pain and tears sprang to her eyes. Ignoring her reaction, M grasped the other nipple and attached the second clip.
‘You can take it, Kitty,’ he said softly, ‘You can do this for me.’ She started weeping, he let the pain build for a few minutes until her face screwed up in agony.
M took a small vibrator from the mantelpiece, turned it to its highest setting and held it against her exposed clitoris, forcing two orgasms from her in quick succession. As she came, she felt the plug starting to fall, and tensed up her muscles in panic, sending more pulses of pleasure though her groin. Such was Kitty’s concentration on retaining the plug, she forgot about the pain in her nipples. M let her relax until her breathing steadied, then stepped so close to her that his knees brushed the clips and he cupped her chin in his warm hand.
‘Open your mouth,’ came the order from above her. As she obeyed, his other hand unzipped his jeans and pull out his erect cock—it looked enormous and threatening so close to her face.
‘Now, I’m sure you have given a blow-job before haven’t you, Kitty?’ He asked, his voice a little deeper than normal. Kitty nodded.
‘Well this is not a blow-job. This is a face-fuck. I am going to fuck your throat in the same way that I will fuck your cunt and your arse in due course. No licking, no sucking and, for your sake, I do not want to feel your teeth.’
Without giving her a chance to respond he thrust his thick cock deep into her mouth, forcing it down her throat. He left it there until he felt her start to choke and panic, then withdrew slightly to allow her to breathe. Putting both hands behind her head, M proceeded to fuck her mouth exactly as he promised, thrusting deep and hard and rhythmically, banging her face against
his belly. Kitty tried to gasp for air each time he pulled back, but soon started panting and struggling. This just excited him more and he started pumping quickly, his cock growing harder and going deeper, stretching her lips painfully. Despite—or perhaps because of—his brutal treatment, Kitty felt her own excitement growing again and she pressed her breasts forward onto his legs, so that the pain from the clips intensified. As his balls lifted against her chin and she felt the first pulse of cum surge down her throat, Kitty also orgasmed and closed her eyes in pleasure. He withdrew as the last spurt left him, deliberately letting it fall from her mouth even as she leant forward to catch it with her tongue. He bent down and grabbed her crotch with his hand—feeling the throbbing heat and brought his wet hand up to her face.
‘Enjoy that, whore?’ he enquired with a satisfied smile, smearing the juices down her face from her forehead to her throat. She smiled and nodded.
‘Yes, thank you, Master,’ she replied, keeping her eyes downcast.
‘Good, but you missed a bit,’ he said, pointing at the drops of cum on the dark red rug. ‘Lick it up.’
Kitty dipped her head and lapped at the carpet, aware of the raw bruising inside her throat. By now the nipple clips had been forgotten, so when she sat back and he roughly pulled them off, she cried out at the sudden, intense pain. He rubbed them, increasing the burning as the blood returned to the tortured nubs. M sat down on the fat brown leather footstool, grabbed her by the hair and pulled her over his knee, her toes grazing the floor. ‘And this is for me,’ he said hand-spanking her buttocks and thighs repeatedly. The skin, already dark with bruises, turned bright scarlet and he felt the heat rising as she squealed and wriggled in a vain attempt to escape his hand. Abruptly he stopped – looked at his watch then stood up, tipping her into an ungainly heap on the floor.
‘Shit!’ he said, and Kitty braced herself for another blow. Instead he shouted, ‘Maisie? Maisie!’
There was a scraping noise from upstairs and Maisie’s voice came from the main bedroom. ‘Nearly finished, Boss.’
‘Finish that later, it’s ten to three. Get me a toasted sandwich and a hot cup of coffee, pronto.’ Maisie trotted down the stairs and disappeared into the kitchen. M unhooked Kitty’s hands, got hold of her hair and dragged her over to the comfy armchair where he sat down and placed her in front of him. Grabbing the remote control, M switched on the television and barked at her,
‘Table.’
Kitty stammered, ‘M…m…m…Master?’
‘Make yourself into a table—are you deaf or just stupid?’ She looked at him in incomprehension but quickly dropped her eyes as he stared her down.
‘This slave doesn’t understand, Master.’ He reached down to where she lay on her back, legs spread, and pulled her up to her knees by her throat.
‘See that?’ he snarled, pointing at her antique walnut coffee table. ‘It’s got four legs and a flat bit in between. You’ve got 3 seconds to copy it.’
Quickly, Kitty spun around and got on all fours, trying to make her back as flat as possible. Without a word, M lifted his legs and plonked them heavily on her back. He turned the volume on the TV up just as the commentator introduced the two football teams. Maisie appeared with his sandwich and coffee and he removed his feet as she placed them on Kitty’s back. ‘Thanks, Maisie. Have something yourself before you finish up,’ he said, his eyes not leaving the screen. Kitty trembled slightly, the heat from the plate and the mug searing into her back. He ate and drank leisurely, the occasional drop of hot coffee dripping on Kitty’s skin and making her flinch. However, she managed to stay still in fear of being scalded from the full contents of the mug spilling on her. Once he’d finished, he put the cup and plate on the floor by her head so she could smell the aroma and see the crusts he’d discarded; her mouth watered. M replaced his legs on Kitty’s back and for the next 90 minutes he cheered, booed, groaned and shouted at the television although, strangely, Kitty could not work out which team he was favouring.
Kitty tried to analyse her feelings as the game started and she was ignored. Despite her outrage and shock at the way she was being abused, she couldn’t deny the incredible pleasure M had ripped from her body. More than that—he seemed to know far better than Kitty did that she yearned to be used and shamed; that her body craved the mistreatment even as her mind tried to reject it. After a while, however, the sharp pain in her knees from the wooden floor, and the strain of supporting his legs on her back, drove every thought from her brain. Every movement he made, every kick of his foot—presumably copying those on the screen—every change of weight added to the agony she felt until she was sure she’d collapse. Only Kitty’s determination to avoid further punishment kept her in place. When the match ended, M argued with the post match pundits for a further twenty minutes but finally, thankfully, the end music played and he snapped the TV off. It seemed M wasn’t all that
different from other men when it came to sport and, bizarrely, she felt a little let down by this revelation. Kitty felt the pressure increase as M bent down and whispered conspiratorially in her ear,
‘Don’t tell anyone, Kitty, but I don’t actually like football.’ With that he dropped the half read copy of Jay Wiseman’s SM101 by her head and this time Kitty did collapse as he laughed and laughed. Such was her relief at being free from pain and bondage for the first time in 24 hours (was it really only a day since this started?) Kitty found herself joining in with his laughter. It wasn’t just relief from the physical burden, but somewhere in Kitty’s mind there was a new acceptance of her fate and she suddenly felt at ease and truly happy. He rolled her onto her back with his booted foot, and gave her a genuine, dimpled smile.
‘Well, at least you have a sense of humour and don’t whinge and whine like most tarts,’ he conceded.
‘Sit up, Kitty,’ he said, ‘cross legged and hands by your ankles.’ She did as she was told; he took a black hessian drawstring bag from behind the chair, extracted a coil of fat red rope from it and loosely tied her ankles and wrists and then joined them together.
‘Stay there,’ he added, somewhat unnecessarily. M went into the kitchen and reappeared a few minutes later with another plate and a steaming mug.
He sat back down in the armchair and maneuvered her until she was sitting between his legs with her back resting against the chair. ‘Your reward,’ he said as he brought the cup of hot chocolate to her mouth and watched her gratefully sip the sweet drink. He then ripped up the toasted sandwich and fed it to her in bite size pieces, alternating with more sips of cocoa. When she finished every crumb and last drop they sat in silence for a few minutes as he stroked her hair.