The Compound (10 page)

When she was done, he produced her leash and clipped it to her collar, using it to tug her to her feet. He led her first to a powder room on the same floor. Alexis hadn't moved her bowels since coming to The Compound, and her intestines gurgled painfully as she sat on the toilet, but beneath Master John’s unblinking stare Alexis knew there was no way she would manage more than a pee.

“Morning session has already begun,” Master John said as he led her up the stairs. As before, there were already several scenes in play. As they passed other trainers and their trainees, Alexis couldn’t help looking around for Master Paul. She spied him with a woman she presumed was Tiffany, though it was hard to say for sure, as the top half of her body and her entire head was covered in what looked like black bandages. The partially mummified woman was lying on an exam table, her legs fully extended in a V above her body, the ankles tied with rope that was secured to hooks in the ceiling.

Master John took Alexis to the training station just beside Master Paul.
A large metal table about the size of a large stool was set against a wall, two thick, sturdy poles jutting out from the wall on either side of it. Beside the table stood a small set of drawers.

“For your extended session today
I will assess your ability to process prolonged, intense erotic pain and stimulation. I also want to see how you do with extreme bondage. Get up on the table.”

Alexis was keenly aware of Master Paul nearby, his coppery auburn hair obscuring his face as he leaned over his charge.
Stop it,
she ordered herself.
Focus on
your
trainer.
She hoisted herself onto the table, her heart already thumping with anxious anticipation at the promise of intense erotic pain and extreme bondage. 

“Lean against the wall so your shoulders and the back of your head are resting comfortably. Keep your ass on the front edge of the
table and grab the poles on either side. Once I bind your hands, I’ll take your legs, one at a time, and tie them at the ankle to the end of each pole.”

Alexis reached up for the poles on either side of her as directed, wrapping her fingers around the cold metal. She watched as Master John wound rope around each wrist and knotted it into place. He appeared totally focused on his task, his lips slightly pursed as he worked. When he was done, her arms were raised on either side of her, slightly bent at the elbows. The position wasn’t uncomfortable—yet.

“Now your feet.” Taking one leg, Master John pulled it upward and out. He wrapped the soft, thick rope around her ankle, lashing it to the pole, and then repeated the process with her other leg. When he was done, she was completely immobilized by the ropes binding her wrists and ankles and forcing her legs wide apart.

Usually the feel of rope against her skin both aroused and calmed Alexis, but in this extremely vulnerable position she was anything but relaxed. She could hear Master Paul murmuring nearby and resisted the impulse to look his way.

Master John left her line of vision for a minute, and returned pulling a latex glove over his right hand. He squirted lubricant directly onto the fingers of the glove and then pressed a gloved finger into Alexis’s ass.

Reflexively she turned her head away, closing her eyes.

“Look at me. Keep your eyes open and on my face at all times,” Master John commanded. Alexis forced herself to obey, her face hot with embarrassment. Master John swiveled his finger inside of her and pressed a second digit in as well. “I sense your resistance during ass play. A properly trained slave has no modesty with her Master. We’ll exploit this evident hesitation on your part and eliminate it.”

He moved his fingers inside her ass and it took everything Alexis had to keep her eyes on his face as he probed and prodded her. Finally he took his fingers from her. Stripping off the glove, he bent down and opened a drawer. He lifted something into her line of vision, and Alexis saw it was an anal plug made of clear plastic. She bit her lip with trepidation but managed to stay quiet.

Though she had occasionally had anal sex in the privacy of her bedroom with a single partner, Alexis had an aversion to foreign objects being placed inside her ass, and this public setting made it all the more uncomfortable for her. She hadn’t listed this as a hard limit on her application to The Compound, intellectually aware it was something she would need to work through if she was to truly submit.

She jerked as the lubricated tip of the plug made contact with her anus. Master John pushed the plug into her, his movements slow and careful. Though she couldn’t tense her sphincter muscles in the position she was in, Alexis felt the tension in the rest of her body, and in the clench of her hands around the cold metal bars.

Master John must have felt it too, because he urged, “Relax. Take deep, slow breaths. Accept what I give you.”

The plug felt hard and huge as it pushed its way inside her. She couldn’t help the yelp of pain as the flared bottom slid home. “There,” Master John said. “Make sure that stays in
place during this exercise.”

Bending down, he pulled a short, thin cane from the drawers and whipped it in the air in front of her.
He set the cane beside her and leaned down again, this time taking out a pair of clover clamps. “You know what these are, of course,” he said.

Alexis nodded, her nipples already perking.
What is it about a masochist
, she wondered,
that we crave the pain even as we fear it?
It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt. It was that it hurt so good.

Standing between her widespread legs, Master John leaned forward and reached for her right nipple. He twisted and pulled it until it was engorged and throbbing, and then pressed the clamp open on either side of the distended nipple. He let the rounded tips close, causing a burst of pain to zing from her nipple to her brain and then down to her clit. He did the same with her left nipple, and then lifted the chain, giving it a painful tug.

“I don’t want a lot of yelping and whining. This will help you to keep quiet.” He pushed the chain between her lips. “Don’t let it fall. If you do, you will be punished.”

Alexis took the chain between her teeth and bit down. He hadn’t even begun the main part of the torture and already she felt the fear sweat pricking beneath her arms and at the small of her back.

Stepping back, Master John picked up the cane. He began to tap her inner thighs with light, stinging strokes. The cane moved down, tapping the backs of her calves. Though the cane stung, along with the humiliation of being bound as she was with a butt plug up her ass, Alexis managed to stay quiet and reasonably composed. Maybe to the casual onlooker she appeared as serene as Tiffany or Wendy, even if it took every ounce of self control to stay quiet and still.

I can do this
, she told herself.
I can do this
.
Breathe deep. Stay focused. Please Master John.

When he struck the sensitive soles of her feet, some of
Alexis’s composure slipped. Grunting to keep from crying out, she bit down harder on the chain in her mouth. She had never been hit on the bottom of her feet before, and the pain was intense. The thin, whipping cane cut into the tender arch of first her left foot, then her right, and back again. Unable to control herself, Alexis began writhing on the table, but she could barely move, lashed securely as she was by both wrists and ankles to the poles.

“Uncurl your toes.” A painful smack of the cane to her toes made Alexis cry out, the clover clamp chain slipping from her mouth.

Bending forward, Master John picked up the chain and gave a vicious tug. Though Alexis’s nipples had numbed from the compression, that jerk of the chain re-awoke the tortured nerve endings in her tender nipples, and she screamed again. Master John shoved the chain into her open mouth.

“Compose
yourself,” he ordered.

She bit on the chain, tears in her eyes, her chest heaving.
I can’t do this,
she thought wildly, pleading with her eyes.

As if he could hear her thoughts, Master John said calmly, “You can do this, Alexis. You need to let go. Stop anticipating.
Stop holding on to the pain. Let it go. Flow with it. Give in to it.”

How often had Arthur said those exact words to her? Damn it, if she knew how to, she would!

Mercifully, Master John shifted his focus from her tortured soles. The cane whipped over her body, each stroke harder than the last. After an especially brutal stroke Alexis again dropped the chain.

“I can’t,” she groaned, the chain again falling from her mouth. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Master John replied, the rattan like fire searing her already tortured, welted flesh. “Give in. Let go.” Again he picked up the chain and placed it in her mouth.

Alexis felt herself edging into panic. She was clutching the poles, which were slick beneath her sweating palms. Master John’s usually impassive expression clouded, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth. Setting down the cane, he moved between her legs and leaned forward. He reached for the clamps compressing her nipples. “I’m going to take these off.”

Alexis began to tremble. She turned her head away, closing her eyes, whimpering in fearful anticipation. When the clamps were released, for a fraction of a second she felt nothing. As the blood flow returned, pain shot through her nipples and she couldn’t stop herself—she opened her mouth and screamed.

Slowly she opened her eyes again, her face still to the side. As the room came into focus, she saw Master Paul looking at her. He had seen her untrained, ungraceful display. He probably was counting himself lucky he hadn’t been assigned to her. Tears of shame welled in her eyes, and yet she found she couldn’t look away from Master Paul’s continued and intense gaze.

“You can do it.”

Alexis stilled. Master Paul hadn’t spoken aloud; he had only mouthed the words, but they were clearly directed toward her. She blinked away her tears. Had she just imagined that?

Master Paul smiled, a slow, easy lift of his lips, his eyes warm and kind. Something that had been clenched too tightly inside Alexis eased at that moment, and the panic slid away.

I can do it.

This time when Master John picked up the cane, though the strokes stung just as much as a moment before, Alexis found herself better able to tolerate it. Master Paul had turned his attentions back to Tiffany, and Alexis suddenly remembered Master John’s instruction to keep her eyes on his face. She turned back to her trainer, but though she might have appeared to be looking directly at him, it was Master Paul she saw in her mind’s eye, with his warm, encouraging smile, mouthing the words, y
ou can do it
, over and over again as the cane came crashing relentlessly down.

“Much, much better,” Master John said finally. He moved again to stand between
Alexis’s legs, this time reaching for the anal plug, which he pulled slowly from her ass. When it popped out, he set it somewhere out of her line of vision. She was expecting him to release her at last from the confining rope, but instead he ran his fingers lightly over her spread labia, and then pressed his fingers into her pussy.

He offered a knowing smile. “There, you see?” he said. “You’re soaking wet. Through all the crying and protest, your cunt doesn’t
lie, sub girl.” He rubbed slowly over her labia, the friction tugging indirectly at her clit. While continuing to stroke her, he slid his finger again inside, crooking it just so, making Alexis gasp at the hot, sudden rush of sensation.

“Oh,” she breathed, the word pulled from her. After the searing cut of the cane, his touch was especially powerful. Pleasure radiated through her, mingling with the pain. Her cunt was throbbing, her breath coming in short gasps as she struggled to resist the rising urge to climax. His finger still inside her, he ground his palm against her clit. She was
going to come. There was no way she could help it.

Again reading her mind, or maybe just reading her body, Master John said, “Remember, pleasure and pain must be combined. I want you to come, Alexis, but not from my touch. You will come from the cane.”

His hand was withdrawn, replaced by the steady, rat-a-tat tapping of the cane against her swollen, aching cunt. It was light at first, more of a tease than anything, a swish of pleasure with just a hint of sting. But as he continued, the pressure increased, the pain rising to obscure the sensual stroke.

Alexis felt the sweat again at her armpits, and the tremble of her aching, taut muscles. And yet, in spite of the stinging pain at her cunt, or perhaps partially because of it, the climax that had threatened a moment before from the pure pleasure of his touch rose again, as strong or perhaps stronger than before.

Alexis clenched her teeth to keep from screaming, her poor, stinging clit throbbing with each whippy stroke of the cane against the tender flesh. “Oh god,” she finally groaned, gripping the metal poles with all her strength. “Oh, please. Oh, Sir. Oh…”

“That’s it. Come for me. Give of yourself completely. Hold nothing back.”

Alexis’s body began to buck and shudder, and still the cane whipped down on her spread, captive cunt. She heard a high, keening sound and was dimly aware it must be her own voice. The tiny part of her brain that still functioned knew she was supposed to be silent, but she had lost all control of her body and her responses. On and on the powerful orgasm wracked her tortured, exhausted body, waves and waves of intensity as the cane continued to stroke her swollen, throbbing clit.