Breaking Abigail (19 page)

Anne-Marie handed the cane back to Zoe, who hung it on its hook.

“Alright, girls,” Anne-Marie said when everyone had caught her breath. “Get the mats, and sit in a circle.”

The cushions went back into the closet, and the foam-rubber mats came out. When her girls sat primly in a circle as if nothing wanton or wicked had happened, Anne-Marie, seated on a chair and looking down at them benevolently, said, “Zoe, would you please recite for Abigail our most important lesson?”

Zoe responded instantly, “My pleasure is necessary to my owner’s pleasure.”

“Abigail, do you think you can repeat that?”

Abigail’s face exhibited a strange expression: a light seemed to be struggling to break through the clouds.

“My pleasure is…”

“Necessary,” prompted Anne-Marie.

“My pleasure is necessary to my owner’s pleasure.”

“What do you think that means, Abigail?”

The girl’s brow furrowed, but she spoke almost immediately. “He can’t enjoy himself… unless he’s sure I… like it?”

“That’s a wonderful start, Abigail. Well done.” Abigail beamed for a moment, but then seemed to realize that she was betraying the idea of her modesty she had clung to so strongly.

“Beatrice,” said Anne-Marie, “what responsibility does that give us, as submissive concubines?”

“To know our bodies, and our pleasures,” she responded. It was a series of questions Anne-Marie went through in every class.

“Exactly. Today we will explore fantasies of restraint.” Anne-Marie went to the closet to fetch the box of leather collars and cuffs.

Chapter Nineteen

That afternoon, as promised, Abigail had her first session with Master J. It was only two o’clock, but Abigail felt she had already experienced enough for more than one day. And her conference with Miss Anne-Marie was still to come, that night after dinner.

On the door of Master J’s room, which was across the hall from the girls’ rooms on the second floor, was a slot for the day’s schedule.

Julie 1:00 p.m.

Abigail 2:00 p.m.

Beatrice 3:00 p.m.

Exactly at 2:00 p.m., according to the clock in the hallway, Abigail knocked on the closed door. She had changed into her pink nightgown right after Miss Anne-Marie’s class. As she waited for something to happen, she realized that she could hear cries from the other side of the door. They were cries of a kind she had never heard before, but she knew instantly what they must be, and she blushed as she couldn’t help imagining what was happening to Julie on the other side of the door.

Then she heard, “Come in, Abigail,” spoken in Master J’s deep voice, though the cries didn’t cease, and with dread and shame and fascination mingled so thoroughly that Abigail felt she might faint, she opened the door and stepped inside the training room.

In the middle of the room was a piece of furniture unlike anything Abigail had ever seen. But Abigail couldn’t really take in the thing itself, because Julie had been strapped down to it, facing the door, her nightgown bunched up under her armpits, and Master J, in his black robe, was behind her, firmly grasping her hips and vigorously thrusting into her as Julie cried out, her eyes firmly shut and her face bright red.

Though she wore the pink nightgown, Abigail instinctively put her right hand down to her loins, as if to ward off Master J’s enormous cock from her own pussy, but also, she realized immediately, because the sight moved her so terribly that the need to touch herself came upon her with irresistible force.

“Hello, Abigail,” said Master J, not varying his rhythm inside the other girl.

Abigail had been fucked in front of other people now, but there was something about the reverse—watching Julie as Master J used her, and really, Abigail had no other way to describe the arrogance of Master J’s attitude—that took her breath away.

Suddenly Master J pulled out, and Abigail couldn’t help gasping at the sight of his huge cock, glistening with Julie’s wetness. He stepped backward, to leave space between himself and Julie’s backside, positioned over the strange bench.

“Knees, Abigail,” he said.

Oh, God… no…
Abigail took one jerky step, then stopped. When she got there, what would he tell her to do? It was so big, and it was covered with Julie.

“Knees, Abigail,” he repeated calmly.

He would whip her. If she didn’t do what he said, no matter how wicked what he told her to do, he would whip her and call her a bad girl, the way Miss Anne-Marie had.

She took another step, but then, without apparent impatience, and with an air that seemed intended only to help her learn how to avoid punishment, Master J walked toward her, looming in front of her, and, just as Master Ian had back in the room that seemed so long ago now, reached out and took Abigail by her hair. Master J couldn’t have been more than three or four inches bigger than Master Ian, but his physical presence was so much greater, and the sight of his glistening hard cock so overwhelming, that Abigail’s knees simply seemed to give out under her, and she let Master J lower her to the floor.

“You’ll have the paddle over my knee soon for your failure to obey quickly,” he said, bending down so that he could say it very quietly. Abigail emitted a little sob at the terrible news. “But it will be much, much worse for your backside if you disobey me now, Abigail. Mouth.”

Her mouth opened automatically. Her tongue emerged, automatically, and curved down over her lower lip as Master Ian had taught her, automatically. Abigail didn’t even have time to contemplate what it meant that her body had somehow obeyed without her mind’s involving itself, because Master J said, “Good girl,” and filled her mouth with a cock that tasted of another girl’s pussy.

“Good girl,” he said again as he began to move gently and shallowly in and out. “Julie, do you think Abigail likes the way you taste?”

“Yes, master,” Julie said, from somewhere beyond the view of Master J’s loins that made all of Abigail’s world at that moment.

And Abigail did like the way Julie tasted, because tasting Julie obediently on Master J’s cock made her a good girl. Abruptly, though, he pulled out of her mouth, leaving her to fall to the carpet, and went to the strange apparatus. He began to unbuckle the straps that held Julie to it.

“Alright, Julie, you may go,” he said, giving her what looked to Abigail like an affectionate slap on the rump.

“Thank you, master,” she said, as she climbed off. “Good-bye, Abigail.”

“Good-bye, Julie,” Abigail replied, startled at the other girl’s affectionate tone.

After Julie had gone, Master J went to sit in a throne-like chair that stood in one corner of the well-lit room. Next to it, Abigail could see that a rack hung on the wall, and from the rack hung an array of disciplinary implements that made her eyes go wide.

“Come here, girl,” he said when he had settled himself there, his cock now semi-erect but still terribly menacing where it lay along his thigh. “Come get what you earned just now.” He reached his right hand to the rack and selected a leather paddle.

Abigail didn’t even consider standing up. She crawled, slowly, her heart beating wildly. She tried desperately to turn her eyes away from his cock, but she found she simply couldn’t, as if he had given her some wordless command that she must look only at it, the place from which his authority over her flowed. She stopped two feet away from Master J’s knees.

“Look at me,” he said, with authority but no anger. Abigail turned her eyes up to his, struck hard yet again by his incredible handsomeness. “Have you ever been over a man’s knee before?”

“No,” she whispered. Her father had always whipped her over the arm of the sofa.

“A lovely girl like you should spend as much time over her master’s knee as he can possibly spare.”

Abigail swallowed and felt she was staring at him like a wild animal frozen by a bright light.

“How does it make you feel to hear me say that, Abigail?” he asked gently. “It would be better not to lie.”

Over and over they asked this of her; over and over they made her say it, made her confess her wickedness.

“Scared, master,” she said.

“Scared of what?”

She shook her head slowly back and forth, without even meaning to. She wouldn’t tell him she was wet. She couldn’t tell him that.

“The paddle, master.”

“I think you’re scared of something else, Abigail, but I won’t make you say it, since you’re already about to be punished. Now stand up and come over here. Lay yourself over my lap, with your head to your right. Unless you know the master or mistress spanking you is left-handed, you must always go to their right side, and lay yourself down to their left. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master,” Abigail said, glad the interrogation had ended for now. Suddenly she hoped he would paddle her hard, because that might drive her arousal out of her. She rose, went quickly to his right side, and lay herself down. The feeling was awkward, but also, to Abigail’s dismay, very arousing in and of itself, because of the way it put her in Master J’s power. His huge hands, moving her and adjusting her position, made her whimper as she felt her pussy contract. To her horror, she suddenly pictured Master J strapping her to the apparatus in the center of the room and taking her as he had taken Julie, and her pussy contracted again at the flash of the fantasy.

Master J finished positioning her rear, leaving it raised far higher than the rest of her body. The shame that coursed through Abigail as she felt herself arranged that way made the seductive arousal even greater. His left arm lay over her waist to hold her still. Abigail felt his right hand pull up her nightgown to bare her bottom. Then he laid the paddle there, where it would soon come down with enough force to punish her. It covered her whole backside. Abigail wanted to beg him to do it quickly, but she found that she could do nothing but bite her lower lip as she waited.

Then Master J began to spank her, hard and fast, saying nothing. Over the cane welts from Miss Anne-Marie, the paddle instantly burned like fire, and the arousal did vanish. In its place, though, where Abigail had expected she would feel some kind of relief from the complicity in her training for her owner that seemed to threaten her sanity, Abigail found that she felt grateful to Master J, in a way she had always known she was supposed to feel grateful to her father for beating her, but never had. She whimpered, her eyes watered, and she somehow knew Master J was making her a better girl by spanking her. She tried to squirm, because she knew he wouldn’t let her get away, and she wanted to feel him holding her down. The paddling went on and on, until whimpers became screams, and then, abruptly it stopped. Abigail heard a rustle, as of a paddle being hung back on its hook, and then she felt Master J’s big hand rubbing her punished bottom.

“Oh, my God,” she said, for it was the most heavenly feeling in the whole world, and the arousal was back, all at once, in a rush. “Oh, my God.”

“I think you may like being over your master’s lap,” she heard Master J say. His hand began to push her thighs apart, and she could not have resisted if her life depended upon it. His strong fingers were there on her pussy, rubbing her clitoris firmly, gently invading her depths and then returning to rub up and down the lips. Abigail moaned uncontrollably.

His left hand attended to her bottom now, and he had a fingertip up against the little hole there, and Abigail felt herself blushing furiously at the feeling even as she knew it was what she had always wanted, and a vision of her owner, taking her there, using her there, came before her eyes and made her cry out.

“Come for me, girl,” Master J said, and Abigail did, crying out even louder, arching her back, and clenching her fists into tight balls. She thought she might writhe off Master J’s lap, but he held her fast, until the shudders had left her body and she lay limp over his lap.

“There you go, good girl,” he said. “There you go.” He let her lie there for a while, stroking her back. As she felt his hands on her body, treating her like a little girl, or a pet, Abigail realized that she had been caressed now by three men: Master Ian, her owner, and Master J. She’d had three cocks inside her body, in one way or another. And she realized, too, with only a lingering bit of dismay, that she was proud that these men had found her body pleasurable; that dominant men like them wanted to have her and to punish her. It was another thing she thought the remaining shreds of her modesty would never let her admit to anyone, but if felt obscurely comforting that she could find satisfaction that way.

“Abigail,” Master J said after a few minutes. “You will get up and go to the bench now, and stand by it.”

“Yes, master,” Abigail said.

When she stood there, Master J came and adjusted the height of the knee rests for Abigail’s taller stature. Then he said, “You will get on it now.” He watched as Abigail obeyed, then he strapped her down at her waist, at her knees, and at her wrists, raising her nightgown until it was wreathed above her breasts.

Then he said, “You will remain this way until I feel it is time for your next lesson. You will consider why it is that I like—as your owner also likes—to have a girl bound like this, even when I am not enjoying her.” He left the room.

To the extent that there was a question in what Master J had told her to think about, Abigail knew the answer immediately: he wanted her bound so that he could come and have her, when he wanted, how he wanted. He liked to know, while he did whatever he would now go and do, that when he returned, ready to… to fuck Abigail, that she had no choice at all but to be there, ready for fucking.

But the way that answer made her feel was something that required much more pondering. So much more that even the many minutes later when he returned, and drove into her aching pussy with his enormous cock, and gave her the fucking he had positioned her for, she still had no idea why it was so arousing to her to be made to wait for her fucking like that.

Master J had her like that, in a slow rhythm, for a long, long time—until someone knocked at the door, and he said, “Come in, Beatrice,” and angelic Beatrice came in, not surprised at all to see what Master J was doing with Abigail. She fell to her knees. Master J withdrew from Abigail and came toward Beatrice, as Abigail watched. “Mouth,” he said, and Beatrice tasted Abigail just as Abigail had tasted Julie.