started slashing her buttocks with whatever he’d used a little while ago. Yesterday he hadn’t broken the flesh but maybe today—“Self-control, slave. Damn it, get a handle on it.”
Would he say that if the tables were turned? For some unknown reason, the question calmed her a little. She was his to play with, teach, and punish. That didn’t mean she had to drown in every pit he threw her into.
She’d panicked over the thought of being reamed in the ass, but that wasn’t any worse than being chained down, butt-plugged, and flogged. Maybe it would be better.
“Position,” he said. “Position. Vital to your training. Pleasing to your owner. Something to take pride in.”
He struck her every few seconds so she found a cadence in the blows. Much as she craved the outlet that had come with screaming, she vowed not to lose control like that again.
Master Damek was taking her mind and body where it had never been, restraining her in ways she’d never thought possible. Because she couldn’t stop him, she’d do the only thing left to her.
She’d live in the pain. The humiliation. The ass plug, heavy collar, splayed legs, dangling breasts. Become one with the unwanted world.
Survive.
Chapter Eleven
“Let’s see if you can do it again.”
Willow stood under yet another of the large room’s endless hanging chains. Master had hobbled her, cuffed her hands behind her, and connected them to the chain. That done, he’d pulled up on the chain until her arms were as high as they’d go and she was bent over. Once he’d had her where he wanted her, he’d placed leather straps over and under her breasts which squeezed them together. As if that wasn’t enough, he’d forced a large rubber ball into her mouth and secured it under her chin, against her cheeks, even the top of her head. He’d fastened the back of the head harness to the overhead chain so she could barely move her upper body.
Some five or six feet away, one of the other women stood tied much the same way.
Despite her own situation, Willow couldn’t take her eyes off the silent, nervous creature. Did her eyes mirror the same helpless expression?
Helpless, not hopeless. Don’t ever forget that.
“Restraint comes in all forms, slave,” Master told her. “It’s limited only by an owner’s imagination. I touched on this issue earlier. No master is interested in a slave who has lost her fear of him. Men the world over live constrained by their society’s conventions. They have responsibilities. They may work for someone else or run their own businesses. They need to keep a roof over their and their families’ heads, if they have them. Only the rich who truly comprehend what large amounts of money will give them have access to the outlet a great many men crave.”
He was talking nonsense again. At least she told herself it was. She didn’t give a damn about some man she’d never met—unless he bought her.
Bought. That word again.
“Men might turn to drugs or alcohol, but those things are crutches. They don’t give the same power. In fact they take power away.”
Judging by her expression, the other woman was trying to follow what Master Damek was saying. Her trainer had left after getting her in position, and Willow wondered where he’d gone and what would happen when he returned.
Master waved a slender paddle in front of Willow’s face. “Your father believed in corporal punishment, right?”
Too deep in dismal anticipation to wonder how he knew that, she tried to nod. “Did he ever use something like that?”
She shook her head. Her father had preferred his belt, maybe because he’d never taken the time to look for anything else.
“And you always knew why you were being punished?”
She had the vague feeling he’d asked her this or something like it before. Wincing from the effort, she again shook her head. Looking at the other captive would be easier than concentrating on Master, but she didn’t dare lose focus.
“You
Would he say that if the tables were turned? For some unknown reason, the question calmed her a little. She was his to play with, teach, and punish. That didn’t mean she had to drown in every pit he threw her into.
She’d panicked over the thought of being reamed in the ass, but that wasn’t any worse than being chained down, butt-plugged, and flogged. Maybe it would be better.
“Position,” he said. “Position. Vital to your training. Pleasing to your owner. Something to take pride in.”
He struck her every few seconds so she found a cadence in the blows. Much as she craved the outlet that had come with screaming, she vowed not to lose control like that again.
Master Damek was taking her mind and body where it had never been, restraining her in ways she’d never thought possible. Because she couldn’t stop him, she’d do the only thing left to her.
She’d live in the pain. The humiliation. The ass plug, heavy collar, splayed legs, dangling breasts. Become one with the unwanted world.
Survive.
Chapter Eleven
“Let’s see if you can do it again.”
Willow stood under yet another of the large room’s endless hanging chains. Master had hobbled her, cuffed her hands behind her, and connected them to the chain. That done, he’d pulled up on the chain until her arms were as high as they’d go and she was bent over. Once he’d had her where he wanted her, he’d placed leather straps over and under her breasts which squeezed them together. As if that wasn’t enough, he’d forced a large rubber ball into her mouth and secured it under her chin, against her cheeks, even the top of her head. He’d fastened the back of the head harness to the overhead chain so she could barely move her upper body.
Some five or six feet away, one of the other women stood tied much the same way.
Despite her own situation, Willow couldn’t take her eyes off the silent, nervous creature. Did her eyes mirror the same helpless expression?
Helpless, not hopeless. Don’t ever forget that.
“Restraint comes in all forms, slave,” Master told her. “It’s limited only by an owner’s imagination. I touched on this issue earlier. No master is interested in a slave who has lost her fear of him. Men the world over live constrained by their society’s conventions. They have responsibilities. They may work for someone else or run their own businesses. They need to keep a roof over their and their families’ heads, if they have them. Only the rich who truly comprehend what large amounts of money will give them have access to the outlet a great many men crave.”
He was talking nonsense again. At least she told herself it was. She didn’t give a damn about some man she’d never met—unless he bought her.
Bought. That word again.
“Men might turn to drugs or alcohol, but those things are crutches. They don’t give the same power. In fact they take power away.”
Judging by her expression, the other woman was trying to follow what Master Damek was saying. Her trainer had left after getting her in position, and Willow wondered where he’d gone and what would happen when he returned.
Master waved a slender paddle in front of Willow’s face. “Your father believed in corporal punishment, right?”
Too deep in dismal anticipation to wonder how he knew that, she tried to nod. “Did he ever use something like that?”
She shook her head. Her father had preferred his belt, maybe because he’d never taken the time to look for anything else.
“And you always knew why you were being punished?”
She had the vague feeling he’d asked her this or something like it before. Wincing from the effort, she again shook her head. Looking at the other captive would be easier than concentrating on Master, but she didn’t dare lose focus.
“You
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