done to her.
“You’ll get to that point,” Master Damek said from behind her. “When you’ll beg me to replace pain with pleasure, even pleasure that’s capable of destroying your will.”
Water. He’d promised her water. “Master?” she whimpered.
“Go on. What were you going to say?”
“I submitted.” Even though he might not see what she was doing, she shook her upper body a little. Fresh pain made her stop. “Please, Master, I beg you.”
“I know you do, little slave.”
Caught off guard by his gentle tone, she waited as he moved back in front of her. He carried a frosty water bottle.
“Tell me something,” he continued. “What if your option had been to position yourself as the slave over there is doing so I could fuck you in exchange for water and food? Would you have said yes?”
The other woman continued to gasp and moan. Willow couldn’t tell whether she was trying to free herself or climaxing.
“Yes, Master,” she admitted. She hated herself.
Chapter Eight
“Life is down to the basics for you, isn’t it, slave,” Master Damek said. “It’s damn elementary.”
She couldn’t think, not with precious moisture running off the water bottle and her breasts on fire.
He moved closer and unscrewed the top. “What’s happening right now is a demonstration of my capacity for compassion. I can’t promise it’ll always be like that since every day and situation is different. Right now I want you to concentrate on the unbalanced balance of power between us.” He chuckled at what he obviously considered his humor.
Extending his hand, he placed the bottle against her lips. She immediately sucked. Bit by bit he lifted the bottle, and she tilted her head back like some dog receiving a treat. Cool moisture caressed her throat. She was so afraid he’d stop before she finished that it was all she could do not to guzzle the water. A few drops slid out of the corners of her mouth, prompting her to swallow repeatedly. With a little of her thirst satiated, she focused on Master Damek. He smiled down at her like some kind and patient caretaker.
“You have promise, slave.” He patted the top of her head. “I don’t yet know you well enough to say how far I’ll be able to take you into sex slavery, but I’ve certainly worked with worse examples.”
Sex Slavery.
“That’s enough.” He roughly pulled the empty bottle out of her mouth and tossed it aside. She imagined precious drops staining the cement.
Faced with the question of what he intended to do with her next, she kept her wary gaze on him. Her breasts throbbed so it was hard to concentrate and one drink hadn’t been enough. Her stomach rumbled.
“Your weight isn’t bad,” he said. “You aren’t skinny enough to be a model, but experience has taught me that most slave owners prefer a little meat on their slave’s bones. No bones poking them. I’ll be taking a few pounds off you. It’s a byproduct of your training, occupational hazard so to speak.”
She’d never be able to fully accept the nightmare existence he was painting, either that or her mind was incapable of absorbing it all.
“Speaking of my goal.” He looped a finger through the taut nipple chain and pulled up.
Desperate to escape the fire that seemed to touch her everywhere, she straightened until her arms’ restraint stopped her. He continued to hold the chain while leaning down so his face was so close to hers she felt his breath.
“Speaking of my goal—the end result is to have turned you into a sex slave that even the most inexperienced owner can handle. It comes down to the marriage of pain and pleasure I’ve already talked about. Pay attention now.”
She was! She couldn’t do otherwise.
To her surprise, he knelt so his knees brushed hers. She groaned in relief when he let go of the chain, then tensed, afraid. Over his shoulder she saw that the other trainer still held the Hitachi against the captive’s sex. Sweat coated her body, her
“You’ll get to that point,” Master Damek said from behind her. “When you’ll beg me to replace pain with pleasure, even pleasure that’s capable of destroying your will.”
Water. He’d promised her water. “Master?” she whimpered.
“Go on. What were you going to say?”
“I submitted.” Even though he might not see what she was doing, she shook her upper body a little. Fresh pain made her stop. “Please, Master, I beg you.”
“I know you do, little slave.”
Caught off guard by his gentle tone, she waited as he moved back in front of her. He carried a frosty water bottle.
“Tell me something,” he continued. “What if your option had been to position yourself as the slave over there is doing so I could fuck you in exchange for water and food? Would you have said yes?”
The other woman continued to gasp and moan. Willow couldn’t tell whether she was trying to free herself or climaxing.
“Yes, Master,” she admitted. She hated herself.
Chapter Eight
“Life is down to the basics for you, isn’t it, slave,” Master Damek said. “It’s damn elementary.”
She couldn’t think, not with precious moisture running off the water bottle and her breasts on fire.
He moved closer and unscrewed the top. “What’s happening right now is a demonstration of my capacity for compassion. I can’t promise it’ll always be like that since every day and situation is different. Right now I want you to concentrate on the unbalanced balance of power between us.” He chuckled at what he obviously considered his humor.
Extending his hand, he placed the bottle against her lips. She immediately sucked. Bit by bit he lifted the bottle, and she tilted her head back like some dog receiving a treat. Cool moisture caressed her throat. She was so afraid he’d stop before she finished that it was all she could do not to guzzle the water. A few drops slid out of the corners of her mouth, prompting her to swallow repeatedly. With a little of her thirst satiated, she focused on Master Damek. He smiled down at her like some kind and patient caretaker.
“You have promise, slave.” He patted the top of her head. “I don’t yet know you well enough to say how far I’ll be able to take you into sex slavery, but I’ve certainly worked with worse examples.”
Sex Slavery.
“That’s enough.” He roughly pulled the empty bottle out of her mouth and tossed it aside. She imagined precious drops staining the cement.
Faced with the question of what he intended to do with her next, she kept her wary gaze on him. Her breasts throbbed so it was hard to concentrate and one drink hadn’t been enough. Her stomach rumbled.
“Your weight isn’t bad,” he said. “You aren’t skinny enough to be a model, but experience has taught me that most slave owners prefer a little meat on their slave’s bones. No bones poking them. I’ll be taking a few pounds off you. It’s a byproduct of your training, occupational hazard so to speak.”
She’d never be able to fully accept the nightmare existence he was painting, either that or her mind was incapable of absorbing it all.
“Speaking of my goal.” He looped a finger through the taut nipple chain and pulled up.
Desperate to escape the fire that seemed to touch her everywhere, she straightened until her arms’ restraint stopped her. He continued to hold the chain while leaning down so his face was so close to hers she felt his breath.
“Speaking of my goal—the end result is to have turned you into a sex slave that even the most inexperienced owner can handle. It comes down to the marriage of pain and pleasure I’ve already talked about. Pay attention now.”
She was! She couldn’t do otherwise.
To her surprise, he knelt so his knees brushed hers. She groaned in relief when he let go of the chain, then tensed, afraid. Over his shoulder she saw that the other trainer still held the Hitachi against the captive’s sex. Sweat coated her body, her
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