Forced Submission (13 page)

M had no idea how to respond. Her world was here, in this
beautiful, locked house with the man who had become the focus of her existence.
He had often told her they were all each other needed, and she had believed
him. Now he was speaking of sister slaves and trips to other countries. A vague
sense of almost mutinous discontent niggled at the edge of her consciousness.
The feeling was dangerous, and she struggled to push it away.

Sir was staring at her and her stomach jolted with the
realization he’d asked a direct question and was waiting for her response.
Because she knew he would want it, she said, “Yes, Sir.”

“Then you will take the needle. If you resist, even in your
thoughts, I will make you suffer, M, in ways you’ve never imagined.” At once,
M’s imagination went into overdrive, conjuring up a dozen torture scenarios,
each one more terrifying than the last. She shuddered and let her arms fall to
her sides in capitulation.

Sir nodded. “Here is what I expect from you, M. I expect you
to hold your nipples taut for me, one at a time, while I slide the needle
through, and then thread in the jewelry. It will be painful, of course, but
nothing you can’t withstand.”

Sir placed the needle beside a second one on the small
stainless steel tray. He lifted the domed lid from a second tray, revealing a
bowl of plump purple grapes beside slices of creamy yellow cheese and a bottle
of sparkling water, condensation beading on the green glass. Saliva began to
pool in M’s mouth at the sight of the food, her empty stomach twisting.

“After the piercing,” Sir continued, “presuming you submit
with the grace and courage I know you possess, you will be allowed to have all
the food on this plate. If you resist however”—he placed the lid back over the
food—“after a beating that will leave you bloody, you will be consigned to the
punishment cage without food or water until you are ready to obey.”

Again M shuddered, fear rippling through her body, coupled
with longing for the food now hidden from sight. Her eyes were again drawn to
the needles, and her nipples tingled as if she could already feel the stinging
bite of a sharp needle piercing her flesh.

“Slave M,” Sir said in an imperious tone. “Will you submit
to the piercing without struggle? Or will you take a beating and go to your
cage?”

M felt faint as she stared at the sharp needles beside the
pretty gold hoops. If Sir wanted her pierced, she knew she would be pierced, if
not now, then later, and at a much greater cost. She blew out a long, cleansing
breath and steeled her courage. “I will submit, Sir.”

Sir reached for a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cotton
ball, which he soaked with the alcohol and wiped over both her nipples. They
rose to attention at the stimulation. “Hold the nipple taut,” Sir instructed.

He picked up one of the hoops and unscrewed the little ball
that held it closed. With the hoop in hand, he selected one of the hollow
needles, dunked it in the open bottle of rubbing alcohol and brought it close
to M’s breast.

“Remember,” he admonished. “Stay perfectly still. If you
jerk, you might tear the nipple. If you damage my property, I’ll beat you until
you bleed. Are we very, very clear on this, M?”

“Yes, Sir,” she murmured faintly, her heart pulsing high in
her throat.

M took hold of her left nipple. As the shiny point of the
needle touched her flesh, she closed her eyes, willing herself to fly to the
secret place she sometimes visited when the pain was too much to bear. She
floated on clouds against a pure blue sky, barely feeling the prick as the
needle passed through her flesh.

“There,” Sir said. “It’s done.”

M opened her eyes, glancing down to see the ring of gold
dangling from her nipple. A bead of bright red blood had formed at the entrance
site and M again closed her eyes, willing herself back to the clouds as Sir blotted
the blood away.

The second piercing hurt more than the first, but the sting
was quick, and a moment later she felt the pressure as he pushed the second
hoop into place. This time she kept her eyes closed until he was done blotting
away the blood. She felt almost drunk, dizzy from the endorphins and filled
with pride at what she had endured. 

She looked up at Sir, who was regarding her with his dark,
soulful eyes, his cruel, sensuous mouth curled into a half smile. “I am
pleased. Tonight I will take you to my bed.”

“Thank you, Sir,” M said, something very close to happiness
filling her. Sir had long promised that one day, when she was worthy, he would
claim her not only as his slave, but as his lover. On that day, he had said,
she would lie in his bed and he would honor her with his cock in her cunt,
something he had so far never done.

The import of Sir’s words had left her mind in a whirl, but
this was forgotten, along with the dull throbbing pain in her nipples when Sir
lifted the lid from the food. M sank to her knees by the low table, locked her
hands behind her back and opened her mouth like a supplicant waiting for her
Master’s benediction.

~*~

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Subject: Questionnaire    

Dear Prince Kamau,

Attached please
find the completed questionnaires you requested. I have cleared my schedule in anticipation
of my visit to your island. We have encountered something of a roadblock, I’m
afraid, in that M confided in me that she has a mortal fear of flying. She begs
you understand that while she would enjoy meeting you and your harem of
submissives, she is much happier at home, waiting for me to return with a
sister slave. I am sure you appreciate the situation, and would not want to
place undue stress on my submissive. She is content to let me represent us
both. To compensate for any potential issue this raises for you, I would be
happy to double the offering price for Zahara.

Best, Master E

That night Ellis took M into his bed. He would consummate
their relationship as Master and slave, a relationship that now went beyond
forced submission, thanks to Ellis’ skill and dedication to the task. With the
same relentless attention he brought to everything he undertook, Ellis had
taught M to respond sexually to both pleasure and pain without distinction.
During training and discipline, he had always combined intense sexual
stimulation with erotic suffering, and his hard work had paid off. He could do
anything to her—anything at all—and she would never disobey him. For M, he
believed, had finally achieved a state of submissive grace that made her worthy
of Master Ellis Langston Hughes.

The tremendous power of this realization was a potent
aphrodisiac, and, as Ellis loomed naked over the trembling girl who lay beneath
him, his cock hardened in anticipation. “Spread your legs,” he said softly.
“You have earned my cock at last.”

M’s big blue eyes widened. No doubt, she was filled with joy
at this proclamation. She shifted beneath him, parting her slender thighs. He
licked two fingers and reached between her legs to touch the smooth mound of
her sex. He let his fingers glide over her labia. He stroked her lightly,
touching her as a lover would, his stroke gentle and teasing. He took his time,
circling and tapping the little button of her clit and moving down to the
entrance, which was already wet, as it should be.

He pushed in one finger and then two, stroking her from
inside out until she was slick with desire. Removing his hand, he positioned
himself so the head of his cock nestled in her cleft. He pushed forward, loving
that moment of initial resistance, and then the yielding of her flesh as he
entered the tight heat of her cunt.
His
cunt. M was his cunt.

He had planned to go slowly, to tease her along until she
was writhing and begging for more. But his own need overcame him. It had been a
long time since he’d engaged in such innocent vanilla sex, and the result was
ironically powerful, as intense as any S&M-driven play.

M cried out when he rammed into her, forcing her to take his
entire length and girth, and the sound of her cries excited him. He thrust
hard, lifting and lowering himself as he pumped inside her hot, tight cunt, his
breath catching in his throat, his skin heating as if licked by fire. Ellis’
orgasm burst through him like a fiery comet, and as he stared down at M he felt
something almost like love.

~*~

To:
[email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Subject: Re: Questionnaire

Dear Master E,

Compensation is
not the issue. I take my responsibility very seriously in making the correct
placement for my submissives. Unfortunately, I have a strict policy of meeting
all parties involved in the transaction. While it is true I do entertain
Dominants who do not have a current partner, because you have made me aware of
the existence of M, I must insist on meeting you both. If this is a “roadblock”
as you suggest, I understand, but I will not compromise my standards. I wish
you every success.

In peace,

Kamau

Ellis pushed back from the computer monitor, furious. Who
the fuck was this high and mighty Prince Kamau? He probably wasn’t even a real
prince. What the hell did they know about BDSM in fucking Africa anyway! Who
needed him? Ellis could find another slave website. Or better yet, he could
just advertise on a local BDSM site.

He clicked open Kamau’s site again, lingering on the image
of the lovely Zahara. She had skin the color of liquid bronze and large black
eyes fringed with thick lashes. Her long, dark hair fell in dozens of narrow
ropes of tiny braids interwoven with what looked like sparkling diamonds. She
and M would look so hot together, pale skin and dark, bound together in rope,
their cunts and assholes stuffed with vibrating toys, or worshipping his body
in tandem, or licking each other’s cunts while he whipped them to a frenzy. The
scenarios were endless.

Not to mention, once he got his hands on her, Zahara would
be in a foreign country, with no one to look for or miss her. He would train her
as he had M, bending her mind until he broke it, and rebuilding her into a
compliant masochist who lived to serve her Master. The setup was perfect, damn
it!

But did he dare bring M along to acquire the girl? He didn’t
think she would try to escape. He’d already conducted a series of experiments
over the past few months, telling her he was leaving the house for a while, and
then watching her on the surveillance program. She’d never tried to open a door
or do anything except precisely what she’d been told. She’d gone about her
chores and then retired to her room to lie on her bed and masturbate, as he’d
instructed her to always do when she was done with her work. She’d even asked
him aloud for permission to come, waiting a fraction of a beat as if hearing
his voiced permission in her head. She was a good slave, a highly trained and
submissive masochist who understood her very life depended on staying in his
good graces.

Which was all very well within the cloistered confines in
which he kept her, constantly disciplined to reinforce her subjugation. But
what would happen when she was exposed to other people, even people heavily
into the scene? Would the memories and will he’d managed to subvert reawaken?
Did he dare to find out?

Ellis scrolled through the website once again, his cock
hardening as his mind slid again into fantasies involving M and Z, as he would
call her once he had the girl in his clutches. He was used to dealing with
wrenches thrown into a deal. He could handle this potential setback. He just
needed to properly prepare M.

He would conduct another experiment. He would introduce M to
a third party and see how she handled the situation. He reached for the
keyboard and typed in the address of one of his favorite BDSM chat sites. It
shouldn’t be too hard to find a local guy into the scene who wouldn’t say no to
a little free pussy and BDSM play, someone who would keep their mouth shut
about what he saw, especially when Ellis gave him cold, hard cash to make sure
of it.

If M passed that test, maybe he would take the chance with
Prince Kamau. If not, he supposed he could find another girl on his own. After
all, he’d gotten away with it once, why not again?

~*~

M pulled the leather coat tighter around her naked body as
she stood behind Sir at the door of a motel room. She took a deep breath of the
cold, fresh air and lifted her face to feel the snowflakes on her cheeks as he
swiped the keycard in the lock and pushed the door open.

“This is an important test,” he had informed her earlier
that day. “You will pass the test by doing exactly what I tell you, and nothing
more or less. I am trusting you on your first trip outside. Don’t let me down,
M. We will be meeting another man. His name is Master J, and I want to show him
how submissive and obedient you are. I am going to take you out in my car to
meet him. If you please me in this, you’ll be rewarded. If you displease me,
I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”

M, of course, had said nothing to this, though her mind
reeled with the implications. Another man! And leaving the house! The idea had
filled her both with excitement and dread. She was safe in Sir’s house. It was
where she belonged. And what if she failed Sir and displeased him?
No
,
she had told herself firmly. She would not let that happen. She would please
Sir, not only because of the fear of punishment if she did not, but because he
was the Master of her body and soul. He allowed her to serve him. She lived for
him. Without him, she would die.