Poor Little Rich Slut (18 page)

I thought that one instant, but then the next a terrible pain rifled through my body. The clamps on my nipples were tightened down and the screaming anguish rushed through every nerve.

“You want to cum?” the master asked me.

“Oh, dear God, yes,” I cried.

“Yes, I suppose you do, dear girl. I might even let you,
if
you can find me.”

He stood up and walked toward the barred door of the cage, saying to the others, “Let her go. If she wants me, let her find me, long as
she
belly-crawls across the floor. Alex, you’ll hold the leash.”

He strode off the platform where the cage sat and disappeared into the crowd.

I was then released from the bondage chair,
then
the nipple clamps and the chain were removed. The ring in my nose remained however and so did the hood.

With a leash snapped onto a large ring in the collar, the tall, gangly Alex pulled me off the seat. I collapsed in a heap and stayed there for several minutes trying to get my body working again.

Alex finally tugged on the chain, “On your belly, slut,” he said. “Crawl on your belly and quick. The cage gets hosed down. Mistress Rita’s going to butt-fuck her bitch.”

I tried to crawl on hands and knees, only to have Alex smack my ass with a long-handled paddle. “I said, on your belly!”

I dropped to the floor and began to slither along the hard wood toward the stairs, then down the stairs to the floor of the makeshift ballroom and into the crowd. I felt as if he were leading me, when, in fact, I was navigating and Alex only kept me on the move. The crowd refused to part, so I had to wriggle my way around stiletto heels and jackboots and barefoot slaves as I searched for the master. Several times I was briefly stepped on; twice I was used as a footstool to help some female balance on her spike-heeled shoes. I worried that my fingers or toes would get stomped on by some a heavy-footed male, but at least to start, I managed to effectively dodge the feet.

Although my groveling crawl became deeply degrading, the anonymity tempered the humiliation. Even though a hundred people feasted on my debasement, I played my part in secret. No one knew who I was.

I belly-crawled my way around the room, sliding against the dirty floor, my nose picking up foul body scents and my lips practically tasting the scum the others walked on.
Disgusting.
Depraved.
Still, I pressed on. Regardless of this degradation, I was as turned-on as I was when the master fondled me. Even as I crawled, the floor caressed my naked mound and reminded me every second that my arousal had not been satisfied, and was now only increased as I slithered on with Alex behind me, smacking my butt whenever he felt like it. I desperately wanted to find the man who held me in his power, but Alex liked to stop my progress, pulling on my leash and ordering me to present my butt.

“Raise it up! I want a good whack at it,” he’d say.

I raised my poor bottom as high as it would go without lifting my chest and felt not only his wooden paddle, but also the sting of whips, canes and even the rude smacking of a hand or two from those around me. When he decided I’d had enough, he pushed me down with his boot and tugged me forward. I slithered on.

When I recognized one particular pair of boots in the crowd, my heart leapt anxiously. I was almost certain that they were Garrison’s. Like his, these were made of fine Italian leather in deep mahogany color and perfectly shined.

I wasn’t sure Garrison noticed me at first,
then
I felt a sudden tugging at the back of my neck. He pulled me back and upright on my knees. I craned my neck looking into his face. He gazed back into my eyes but didn’t say a word. Any small encouragement now would have been welcome, but there was none. He pushed me back down and kicked me along with the toe of his boot; the feeling of abandonment was crushing.

Another ten minutes of this horror followed until I finally recognized the master’s boots. I grabbed at his ankles frantically and held on.

“What’s this?” he looked down.

I peered up at him from the floor.

He shook off my hands and lifted my chin with his boot.

“What a dirty bitch you are now,” he laughed.

Hot tears burned my eyes.

“You seek me out. What do you want?”

The words were caught in my throat. I could feel the desire welling inside me, but for some reason, I felt the humiliation more keenly at that moment than I had before. The degrading behavior seemed like a dream up until that moment; now it was real and repugnant. I disgusted myself, even as an anxious, grinding lust made my belly wrench with spasms.

He shook me off. “If you fucking can’t speak, how the hell am I supposed to know what you want?” He turned away, almost stepping on my fingers. I reached out for him again and he turned back.

“Master, please!” I voiced as loudly as I could to be heard over the sound of the heavy metal music.

“Out with it, slut!”

“Master, please, please may I please cum? Please…” I began to sob. “Please, Master, please.” I pulled in closer clutching his legs in my arms, even when Alex tried to jerk me back.

“Cum?
You want to cum?” he said looking down at me.

He reached low and pulled me up. I could see the dust and dirt clinging to my body but I didn’t care. I was on my feet. Damn! The man was tall.
A good foot or more above me, so I still had to crane my neck to see his face—to have him see my pleading one, half-hidden behind the hood.

His hand reached in-between my legs and he toyed with the opening of my vagina. A finger delicately ran along my slit,
then
slid inside where it located that sweet bud of my “G” spot. I panted breathlessly, while my pheromones wafted upward. I could smell my own arousal along with the heady perfume of the master’s body.

“Oh, please, Master,” I gasped. My body convulsed with fiery, burning spasms. I sank against his leather-clad body, sobbing,
cumming
, moaning as I clutched him to me. His hand was soaked with my juices but he kept on playing with me. He moved his attention toward my anus where another bright climax of feeling burst from me. “Oh,
gawd
,
gawd
, yes,” I hissed, while breathing in sharply.

Finally, I collapsed against him and he held me.

The crowd had seen it all and I didn’t care. Garrison had no doubt seen me, too, and I was glad of that, even proud of what I’d done. If this was his test, certainly I’d shown him that I could go as deep and far as a woman could go. If he thought me weak before, he certainly would not now.

The master held me until at last he bent down and pressed his lips to mine for a long, slow kiss. Then we parted.

“So, girl, you’ve had your night in hell.”

“Thank you, Master.” I bowed my head respectfully.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” he said. The crowd was still gathered around us, listening intently.

I looked up. “I don’t know what you’re asking, Master.”

“This is damn, fucking easy for you, rich girl, making your big show.”

“No, Master, it is not easy.” I protested.

“Oh, but I say it is. You know it’s
easy,
you have that hood to hide behind. How about we take it off and see what kind groveling you do then. Huh?”

I shrunk back in fear.

He laughed. “Got you on that, didn’t I?”

“Please no,” I said, begging.

“Oh, but how can you really know humiliation if you don’t show your face, let us know who you are? How can it get inside your gut and rattle around there if you play it safe?”

My vanquished body heard his words and trembled with fear. The master saw my terrified response and grinned again.

“Oh, you don’t want to play it safe, do you?” he said. “I think you want people to know. You want to share it… oh,
yeah,
I can feel that arouse you. I feel your desire blooming just hearing me talk about it.” He placed his hand on my belly. “Alex, unlock the locks.” Alex moved in behind me and began fiddling with the collar and hood. “Go on, unmask yourself, girl. Expose yourself. You think this world is going to judge you, huh? Do it. What happens in this place doesn’t leave here. You can trust that.”

I shook my head, aghast, feeling as if I’d just been slapped in the face. “Please, I-I can’t.” I began to cry.

He slapped me lightly. “No tears, girl. We don’t really care.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

He viewed me critically a moment more, then shook his head.

“Go home, slut, clean up,” he said. “You’ve had enough of this place tonight and we’ve had enough of you. And while you’re thinking about what happened here tonight, you might realize that you don’t belong here. Rich
bitch,
this is not your world. You can go back to yours thinking you conquered ours, but if you want to come again, if you want to do it right, you’ll show us some respect and let us see your face. The masks come off at midnight around here, if not before. You’ve seen my face the entire night. You keep yours hidden.” He shook his head. “It’s time for you to leave.”

After all he’d earlier said to me that was scowling and cynical, these last words were free of bitterness.
Just plainly stated facts.
This was his world, his rules, and I didn’t belong here.

Once the master said his peace, Alex walked me through the crowd toward the far end of the building and led me into a washroom. He removed the ring that was still lodged in my nostrils, then left, closing the door behind him.

I looked around at the small room seeing my clothes hanging on a nearby hook. I reached behind my head and removed the locks from the rings and pulled the headgear off. I stared in the mirror. My face seemed misshapen and my sweaty hair was plastered to my head. I shook it out and tried to comb it, but that was a wasted effort. I gave up, deciding that I deserved my ragged appearance after what I’d been through. I managed to wash most of the loose dirt from my body; the rest would have to wait until I was home and I could shower. My simple, brown work suit seemed strange to me and not at all how I wanted to dress. I wanted to go back into that great, big, pulsing dungeon, but when I tried to peek out for one last glimpse of the alluring sight, I discovered that the door was locked from the outside. There was no way back.

There was another door in the washroom that opened into a hallway. At one end of the hall a husky, leather-clad doorman stood guard. At the other end was the exit to the street. I guessed that I had no choice but to leave alone even though this lonely act seemed an absurd way to end a night of such savage and far-reaching extremes.

After I dressed, I walked out feeling a little scared, wondering, hoping for Garrison. I had no idea where I was at first; the sky was
pitch
black and I could hardly see. I finally determined that I was in an alley behind the old brick monstrosity where a few cars were parked.

“You looked wasted.” The voice stopped me short. I’d heard Garrison before I saw him. I turned to my right seeing him walk toward me, hands in pockets, strolling.

“So, how do you feel now, Heiress?” he asked as he collected me.

“I don’t know.” That was the truth.

But he pressed. “Liberated? Revived?
Ashamed?
Used? Demeaned? What is it?” He seemed oddly cold.

“Maybe all of those things?”
I looked at him quizzically, wondering now what he was thinking. “How do
you
feel?”

“How do I feel? Humph.” He still looked a little odd. “Funny you should say that.”

“I mean you did set me up.”

“You doubt that?”

“I have to assume that.”

“You’re right. I gave you to a friend who has a better understanding of these dark and dangerously sadistic things.” He seemed to be mocking the whole scene. “He put you through stuff I never could have.”

Really?
“Yes, and I followed every order… I did.” I felt strangely in need of defending myself.

“I saw that.”

Still, he seemed unlike himself.
What was he not saying?

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Nothing much.
Just time to take you home, princess.”

“Please don’t call me princess.”

“
Ooo
, the treatment wearing off so soon, I’m surprised.”

Yes, I was becoming riled and very scared. “Garrison, what is going
on!
”

He refused to say a word as we walked to the car. The silence continued until we reached my apartment where he pulled up tight to the curb and waited for me to get out.

I turned to him. “Tell me, please, Garrison, what’s going on with you? I did what I was told and now you’re… you’re…”

“I’m not feeling so great about it.”

“Why? This was your doing.”

“Are you ashamed of yourself anymore? Does that figure into anything?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel ashamed now. Is that what you want me to feel? Are you ashamed of what I did? You want to punish me?” I wished he would!