Chapter 8: Stories of Death
Then she started to cry, her body shaking, the tears
flowing like rain. I held her, tried to do what I could
to calm her down, but it was no good. I admit I felt a
little guilty thinking that the stress of the
kidnapping was finally coming out. I pulled her close
feeling the warm smoothness of the leather corset
against my skin. She started to mumble something and as
I listened I gradually came to realize that this had
nothing to do with the kidnapping or with me.
I understand grief through bitter experience. It is a
slow subtle poison. If you try to bury it or run from
it then the loneliness and pain get a power over your
life and they start to eat away at your soul.
I loved my grandfather, he had been a strong generous
man always willing to help a neighbor or a grandson
prone to trouble. In our community he had held a
special place, never elected to any office, never
qualified in any profession yet somehow always the one
people turned to in times of crisis. He was if anything
the perfect human being, a strong man who didn't pick
on the weak, a proud man always willing to admit when
he was wrong. During the long hot Indiana summers of my
boyhood we had walked and talked and fished, all the
things boys and grandfathers are supposed to do
together.
Then in my senior year at High School he died, no
illness, no warning just one day I came home from
school and found my mother crying in the kitchen. The
shock and the grief hit her all at once and she was
never quite the same again. As for me? Well one of the
constants in my life was missing and the pain was worse
than anything my young mind could imagine. Then I did a
foolish thing. My parents had always treated me as an
adult and I was graduating High School at the age of
fifteen.
So I tricked myself into thinking that I was an adult
and bottled the grief inside so as not to upset my
mother any further. I played the dutiful son and buried
my feelings so deep that when it was all over and I
wanted to cry I found I couldn't. That feeling stayed
bottled up eating away at my guts every day for eight
long years. Then late one night as I lay alone in a
hotel room in San Francisco all that burst to the
surface and I cried all night.
I don't know what had happened after Josh died but I
know that Caroline hadn't dealt with it. She'd buried
that grief as I had and it had lurked in the back of
her mind. Now it had picked it's time and place finding
that moment of weakness as it had in that dark hotel
room in San Francisco. I held her shaking body
encouraged her to scream into the privacy of the
soundproofed room and waited for the storm to pass. She
spoke a little between the sobs and with some gentle
encouragement I persuaded her to tell me their story.
She had known Josh Petersson all her life. The
Petersson's were a local farming family who had lived
in this backwoods part of Iowa since great grandfather
Olof came from Scandinavia in the eighteen nineties.
They lived close enough to the Reverend Conway and his
family to be considered neighbors. They shared
barbecues in the summer, exchanged gifts in the winter,
attended the good Reverend's church and involved
themselves in local fund raising. Josh was three years
older than Caroline and had voted himself the title of
honorary big brother. She had grown up with him always
about but never really saw him as anything but a
friend.
Then when she was fourteen he had asked her out on a
date. It seemed to have come without warning and I got
the feeling that she had accepted almost by reflex.
Almost accidentally she had fallen into the
relationship, then deliberately she fell in love.
Knowing that her father would not approve, she had kept
their romance a secret.
Over that summer they had seen each other more and
more, meeting in private, lying to friends trying to
keep the truth away from the tell tales and gossips
common to all small towns. As she was underage they had
agreed to limit themselves to oral sex and heavy
petting until her sixteenth birthday. For six months
they had done what kids do and I think these were the
happiest weeks of her young life.
Then Josh started to busy himself on some project. He
was unavailable most weekends and would not tell her
why. She became jealous, and started to think he had
another girl. When she finally confronted him he'd just
laughed and asked her to meet him at a small empty
cottage on his father's land. His family called it
"Patrick's House" and his grandfather had built it for
his parents when they were first married. She had been
there before of course, it was one of the few places
were they had any privacy.
This time she went with some trepidation thinking that
perhaps he wanted to break up. Instead he surprised her
with an engagement ring on a silver chain she could
wear it around her neck and a promise of marriage. Then
they walked through the empty rooms looking at the work
he'd done to make it their home and planned their new
life together.
It had started to rain so they couldn't leave
immediately. The moment had seemed so perfect that she
took him by the hand and led him upstairs and they made
love for the first time one week before her fifteenth
birthday.
It took a lot of coaxing to get her to tell me about
his death. I knew from experience that it was
necessary, that if she didn't get it in the open it
would continue to haunt her. It was painful and she
cried like a child as she went through his last day.
They'd had a fight, he'd wanted to formally ask her
father. She had said no. Angry words were said then
he'd stormed off. He'd apparently gone hunting,
something he did quiet often when he needed to think,
when he didn't return this family sent out search
parties.
They had found him at the bottom of a dirt bank in a
lonely wood. She told me how he had slipped and fell
shooting himself in the process then bleed to death
unable to climb out again. At that moment she broke
down completely, it took another hour before she was
cried out. I held her until the end encouraging her to
let it go providing the physical comfort a person needs
at that time. When she finished she was weak and
emotionally drained.
I took off the posture collar and replaced it with the
usual one. I had intended to remove the corset and
boots but right now she needed to sleep. I attached the
wire and freed her hands. Then I gently dried her face
and brushed her hair aside.
"Thank you," She said.
"What for?"
"For listening."
I smiled.
"Comes with the territory," I said, "If you can't talk
to your master who can you talk to?" I pantomimed
looking around the room for some other person and
discovering only myself there. She smiled, and I knew
she was going to be all right. I turned to leave but at
the door on impulse I stopped and looked back.
"Who are you?" I asked gently.
"A slave for your pleasure, Master."
I looked into her large blue eyes. Tomorrow when she'd
had chance to recover it may be different but at that
one vulnerable moment I think she really believed what
she was saying, at that moment she really was my slave.
The night was still relatively young so I busied myself
preparing my laptop for the trip. About twelve I made a
hot drink and settled into my favorite chair. A quick
check on Caroline showed her asleep, a calm almost
radiant look on her face. It looked as if the release
of all than angst had done her some good. It really had
been a roller coaster ride tonight and as I sipped my
cocoa I went back through the events to look for a
trigger.
There was the sex of course. This time it had seemed
much stronger than before. I'd been overwhelmed by the
power of it all. Tonight she'd been somehow sexier,
more vibrant than on previous occasions. I tried to
find a reason why, when we'd had sex before she had
seemed to enjoy it and I knew for a fact that she'd
orgasmed so what was so different this time? I knew
that if I kept her excited long enough she would throw
away her inhibitions when we finally fucked. In fact
when the time came she was now an enthusiastic partner.
I may have been keeping her here against her will, but
there could no longer be any doubts that the sex was
consensual.
Of course I didn't kid myself. I kept Caroline tied and
frustrated for most of the day, by the time we fucked
she was desperate, her body crying out for relief. When
I offer to fuck her of course she co-operates as she
would with a vibrator or a wine bottle. I could see
that from Caroline's point of view sex with me was just
a way to for a girl to masturbate with her hands tied.
Then I remembered the little "I'm sorry Josh" line
she'd said. Did she feel unfaithful to his memory? I
could force her to have sex, I could even make her body
betray her so that she enjoyed it but I couldn't make
her invest any emotion in it. Was that the answer? Had
sex meant something more than pleasure to her this
time? Had the guilt of that discovery burst the dam
wall of all that pent up grief? I didn't know and felt
not for the first time that a degree in psychology
would be more useful right now.
Then I remembered Caroline's textbooks still sitting in
the back room of my garage awaiting the furnace.
Perhaps the answer was in there? I decided to rescue
them and find out. Now though it was time for bed so I
started the dishwasher and headed upstairs. I settled
down and for the first time that I could remember I had
a dream.
It started in the parlor of my father's hardware store.
I think I was about ten and it was one of those
timeless Indiana summers that I remembered so fondly.
Long hot dusty days with school a distant memory, and
the smell of the corn fields on the breeze. Then a
sudden cut and I was out in the street chasing after
Grandpa trying not to drag the fishing pole he gave me
in the dirt, wanting him to slow down; but never
wanting to admit I was too young to keep up.
We sat fishing and talked as we had so long ago, and
though part of me knew he was dead, I was filled again
by the joy of his presence. I could have stayed there
forever, but for some reason he sent me back to the
house to pick up some fruit we'd forgotten. As I headed
back towards the path something drifted into my view.
Caroline floated above. She was naked but for a large
number of thin leather straps, each about the width of
a boot lace that bound her legs together and her arms
at her sides. I paused for a moment, shocked to see her
in such an idyllic place. I noticed that the straps
were very tight, her hands and feet were blue and
bloated. One strap ran up through her shaved pussy and
disappeared between her cunt lips. This seemed so tight
that it almost cut her in two. A seemingly endless flow
of blood trickled down her exposed thigh.
She was looking at me, big blue eyes above the wide
padded strap that gagged her. Much to my surprise there
was none of the accusing looks she normally gave me.
Instead she had a rather pained expression, eyes
slightly puffy like she had wept for a long time. I
found myself opening the big knife my grandfather had
given me and I nervously stepped forward. Bringing the
knife to the crotch strap I cut the thin leather lace
above her pussy and started to pull it from between her
cunt lips. Much to my surprise it refused to budge.
I pulled harder and was shocked when a large ball of
the leather cord popped out of her hole. Almost
immediately she started to thrash and moan behind her
gag and I realized she was orgasming. More blood poured
down her body as the straps literally cut her limbs. I
felt frightened but somehow stepped forward. Her rapid
motion caused her to slip from my grasp and a found her
drifting off in the wind like a bizarre fetish balloon.
I followed but whenever I approached she just seemed to
drift further and further away... In the end I started
running but just as I caught up with her she squealed
and rolled herself into a ball... I closed in, making
comforting noises and after quite a struggle managed to
undo the buckle on the gag strap. However as I pulled
it from her face I became aware of the blood encrusted
on it. I looked down and cringed for beneath the gag
her lips had been sown together with stitch after
stitch of the foul leather cord.
**
I woke with a start. Was this the dream that I'd had
the night before? All I knew was that I was shaking. It
took me almost an hour to calm down and start to think
rationally of the images in my mind. I felt sure of one
thing, the dream was somehow significant; my
subconscious was trying to alert me to something. I
thought at first it was guilt, but Caroline's bonds had
been horrific, the sick work of a sadist and though I
may be many things I wasn't that. I admit that I'm a
control freak and that I use pain to get that control
but I don't revel in it and I don't use it for its own
sake. So what did it mean?
A quick video check found her still asleep. It was dawn
and I didn't feel like sleeping again so I put on a pot
of coffee and went into my office. There underneath one
of my computer tables was the box of important papers
I'd taken from Caroline's apartment. I should have
moved it into the dungeon some time ago; there is
little point hiding the slave and leaving boxes of her
stuff just lying around. For now though I just reached
into the box and pulled out the picture album. I spent
about half an hour going through it I knew what I
wanted should be there. I carefully picked though page
after page of Christmas's, birthdays, and Thanksgivings
with no luck. In the end I found it tucked away in a
little wallet like thing inside the back cover.
It was a picture of Josh and Caroline.
Of course he looked young, he'd died when he was
seventeen, a tall friendly looking boy his Scandinavian
heritage evident in this lanky frame and dirty blonde
hair. He looked nice but dull. The standard all
American kid, not smart enough to be a nerd not
athletic enough to be a jock. The kind of kid who
somehow just makes it through life.
Except this one hadn't.
She looked young and very happy, caught in that
spontaneous moment that was either reality or Pearson.
For I while I tried to imagine what their life together
would have been like if he'd survived. One thing seemed
clear Caroline wouldn't have been an unwilling guest in
my basement. I could almost see her dragging a dusty
faced blonde daughter around that cottage in Iowa, with
perhaps another child on the way. Even when times were
tough I got the feeling they would be happy. Josh
Petersson and Caroline Conway; a future that didn't
happen.
Time to make breakfast. I figured she'd have quite an
appetite when she awoke so I started into a more lavish
spread than normal. Soon I'd have to start controlling
her calorie intake and arrange for some exercise or the
enforced inactivity would start to have its effects on
her waistline. For now I indulged her with a meal
designed as much to comfort as to feed. By seven it was
ready and I went downstairs to collect her. She blinked
in surprise as I woke her. Up until then I'd waited
until she was awake before fetching her. Her face was
still red and tearstained so after she had used the
toilet I freed her hands and had her wash up.
The rest was almost a ritual. I refastened her hands,
attached the leash and led her to the table. Once there
she sat on my lap while I fed her by hand. I'd found
that I liked feeding her, like having a gag always
dangling about her neck it was a constant reminder who
was in charge, who had the power in this relationship.
I was pleased to see her eating well and I could feel
her strength returning. This time I dispensed with the
syrup trick, I needed this outfit in good condition for
the next posture session. So after fastening the collar
to an overhead wire I released her and told her to
strip. She did in an almost mechanical way and I could
see there was something on her mind.
I admit to having something planned too and as she
wiggled out of the leather I was positioning the
photofloods to point at one of the restraintless walls.
She watched silently as I retrieved some clothes from
the wardrobe. Walking over I threw them on the table.
"Put these on, everything but the gloves." She complied
quickly and I stood back to admire the result. The
outfit was not that much different from what she had
worn on her first night. A shiny black latex halter top
came first. The rubber was ribbed to give it a corset
like effect. It hugged her upper body pushing her tits
up and out in a pleasing way while leaving her stomach
bare. Next came a matching black latex garter belt, I'd
removed the elastic so it was really only being used as
a sash to cover the area between her hips and her
shaved pubis.
The latex boots which came to the top of her creamy
thighs were little more than thigh high latex stockings
with five inch heels attached, they tied at the top and
hugged her legs like a second skin. At this point I had
her stop and apply makeup as directed. The last time
I'd been concerned with her having a natural look so
her makeup had been underplayed. Now I wanted the young
vamp look, lot's of makeup but applied in a way that
still left her looking young and fresh. I selected a
baby doll pink lipstick and blusher combination and
waited for her to apply it.
"More photos?" She asked.
"Yep, Slave's gotta earn her keep." I could tell she
wanted to say something but she seemed to change her
mind and instead did what I asked. I brushed her hair
back into a ponytail. Much as I liked it long I could
tell that she was going to have to have it bobbed.
Truth was that long hair was hard to keep looking good
without regular styling, something I couldn't do easily
myself. I figured I'd keep it like this for a couple of
weeks and then I'd have to do something about it.
She finished up with a long pair of latex gloves which
she pulled up her arms as I finished prepping the
camera. Now there was only one thing left to do. With
my fingers mentally crossed I put a pair of earrings
and a choker on the table and removed the collar.
Caroline was now completely free for the first time
since I took her. She seemed a little shocked and I
noticed her glance fleetingly at the dungeon door.
"It's locked," I said while I fiddled with the tripod.
"You'd need a torch to cut through it. Now put on the
jewellery and stand over by the wall."
She dragged her eyes away from the door and started to
put on the earrings. Remembering the lessons from
yesterday she attempted to slink over to the wall.
However it became obvious that she missed the ankle
support of the leather boots and twice she almost fell.
Eventually she made it to the wall and stood awaiting
instructions.
First I had her stand with her legs slightly crossed,
hands on hips, pouting slightly. The shot was nice,
immediately establishing her as a young rubber slut. As
I'd hoped the crossing of her legs had forced her
thighs hard together and the latex boots, gloved hands
and garter belt formed a black latex frame for the
triangle of her shaved cunt. Her breasts strained
against the rubber in a most appealing way and the look
on her face just screamed fuck me. I knew immediately
that this first shot was a "Pearson" and it seemed like
a good omen for the rest of the session.
Next up I had her face the wall then press herself
against it like a criminal being frisked. I took a shot
but the composition lacked something. I had her spread
her legs more and I tried another. Still not quite
right so I had her turn her upper body slightly so that
I could see her face in profile. This worked much
better so after repositioning her hands and head I took
the final shot. To my mind this picture looks like a
raid on a brothel. A young slut is thrown against the
wall still dressed in her fetish-wear, her long mane of
blond hair almost down to her bare behind. She half
turns towards the young rookie cop left to guard her
and makes her proposition. If he looks the other way
and lets her escape she'll be so grateful. She only
does this to pay her way through college, her mother
would die if she knew. If he lets her go she'll meet
him later and show her gratitude...
For the next shot I had her lie down her hot ass stuck
up towards the camera. I took a number of different
shots with her looking back over her ass towards the
camera. I tried a number of different expressions from
surprise though lust to fear. The shot that finally
worked for me was one were I had her twist her body
slightly towards the camera and prop her head up with
her gloved hand. The clothes, the pose, the look all
tell you this is a hot cunt just looking for a fucking
and the picture wasn't lying. Looking into Caroline's
eyes I could see that the sexual addiction I'd tried so
hard to establish was finally taking hold. She was
wanting it bad which gave me an idea.
I had her stand and using the remote I programmed a
track into the sound system.
"Now slave we are going to try something freeform. I
want you to interpret the music for me just do whatever
you feel." She looked unsure so remembering my
experience from last night I suggested that she closed
her eyes.
"Ok slave I want you to imagine this. You are still a
student, and have one day to get enough money to pay
your rent or you loose the apartment. One of your
friends has told you of a club she works at when times
are tough. She says that they always need dancers and
that a girl willing to work at it can make some good
money. You asked the owner but he thinks you are too
dowdy and plain. You beg you are so desperate and in
the end he gives you a trial; if you get a good
response from his customers he'll give you the job."
I could see her trembling, one latex covered hand had
made it's way down to her crotch and she was already
rubbing the slick palm against her hot lips. Encouraged
I continued.
"You look through the wardrobe, they have all sorts of
things, nurses and cops uniforms, bathing suits but
realizing that you have to make a good impression you
pick the riskiest outfit you can find. It's slick black
rubber and it clings to your body like a second skin.
You can feel its touch, smell the scent of hot rubber
mixed with the sweat of all the other girls who have
worn it. Can you feel it slave?"
"Yes," She whispered. Her other hand had found her tits
and a finger was doing an orbit of the bump made by one
of her erect nipples. She was breathing heavily and I
could tell she was almost ready.
"You're standing in the wings waiting to go on. There
are about thirty men in tonight most of them middle
aged business men. You see your friend dancing naked at
one guy's table a bundle of greenbacks clutched in one
hand. She thrusts a tit almost in his face and he's
going crazy 'cos he isn't allowed to touch. Now it's
your turn, the manager passes you as he goes on to make
the announcement. He nods and makes encouraging noises.
You feel nervous as you step out feeling all those eyes
on you. You stand ready knowing that your future rests
on the next ten minutes."
I punched the play button and the hidden speakers
hummed into life. There was a throbbing opening base
rift and the song exploded into the room. I'd chosen
was the Divinyls track "I Touch Myself" to start with
and a couple of their others in case she kept going.
The music seized her immediately and she started to
gyrate, touching herself as she felt the need. I had a
post in the room that I used for bondage purposes and I
started to wish that is was nearer. Caroline would have
made a hell of a pole dancer, she was sexy, seductive
and even with her eyes closed she looked as if she
enjoyed it. I adjusted the lights so that they shone
directly at her, she would be unable to see past them.
"Open your eyes sweetheart," I said. When she did I
continued. "The lights blind you but you know that
beyond the glare, thirty guys are watching you. You can
feel their eyes on your skin, undressing you even
further. They all want you, you can feel their lust
coming over you in waves. Feel thirty imaginary pairs
of hands caressing your body, on your tits, on your
ass, brushing your cunt."
She trashed around pouting seductively for the
imaginary audience caught up completely in her role. At
times she was unsteady and natural talent had to make
up for her lack of technique but at that moment she was
a sex goddess and deep inside she knew it. I watched
captivated as she strutted the floor pausing to pose
suggestively or to touch herself again.
Then I suddenly realized that in my excitement I hadn't
taken any shots. I quickly started taking a series of
her roving hands drifting between tits and cunt. She
arched her back eyes once again closed one hand drifted
up and released her hair which tumbled around her
shoulders. A quick quarter turn of her head and she
flicked it out so that the golden strands now covered
her tits as well. Then as I watched both hands drifted
backwards towards the straps that held the halter in
place. It had been designed for easy removal, always a
consideration when the wearer is intended to be bound.
She found the release and it dropped away from her
shoulders. One arm kept it clutched to her body and
then she started to move it rubbing it's silky
smoothness over her tits and belly. She arched her back
teasing the imaginary audience with a suggestion of
breast all the time getting the tactile stimulation
from rubbing the latex against her hot body. Finally
she tossed it aside leaving her erect nipples free to
be played with.
I focused in for a close-up as she took both nipples
between thumb and forefinger and gently rolled them,
then she flicked her head back and moaned. Again she
arched her back and one hand returned to her dripping
box. Using the two outer fingers to spread the lips she
started to tickle her clit. She slipped a finger
inside, then two by now the moans were rapidly becoming
squeals.
Two more quick photos, one a close-up of her finger
fucking herself the other showing her enraptured face
so her identity was in no doubt and I found myself out
of film. I could account for less than half of the 36
frames. Still I knew I had some hot shots and I looked
forward to seeing what else I'd taken.
Looking at her I could tell that she was close and I
had already decided that for the time being she should
only cum by my hand. I didn't like being a party pooper
but it couldn't be helped. I pulled a pair of handcuffs
from my pocket and quietly came up behind her. Not that
being quiet was necessary the music was loud and she
was too far gone to care. I took the hand that was
playing with her nipples first, she didn't resist I
don't think she even noticed as I closed the cuff
around it. Pulling it down behind her I grabbed the
other wrist.
Now she resisted, she was so close she would have
killed at that moment. Still I was stronger and in a
better position so after a brief struggle I managed to
cuff the other wrist in place. She moaned and started
to rub her thighs together. When that didn't work she
turned and started rubbing her cunt against the thigh
of my leather pants, I twisted her around. I had
intended to deny her an orgasm and keep her wanting it
for the rest of the day but she had danced so well I
decided to give her a break. I twisted her to face me,
pulling her close until I felt one erect nipple embed
itself in my chest.
Grabbing a handful of hair I twisted her head until she
was looking into my eyes. Then very deliberately I
slowly finger fucked her with my free hand. One finger
tickled her clit as I thrust another as deep as I could
inside her. She clamped down squeezing the finger
tightly. Leaving my thumb to work on the nub I thrust
two more fingers inside and was rewarded by a gasp as
she trust her hips towards me. Then I slowly brought
her off, listening to her cries as the decibel level
rose. All the time I was watching her emotions though
the lust glazed windows of her eyes.
First came need mixed with a little embarrassment. As
she came closer the need started to take over
completely and her cunt started to clamp down even
harder on my leather covered fingers. Next came a look
of rapture which coincided with the spasm my fingers
felt deep inside her. Then she gave a look of
fulfillment, a deep sigh and then she smiled in a
dreamy way. For a second there was something new and
something totally unexpected. For an instant before she
broke my gaze there was something that just possibly
could be love.
I brought my gloved hand up to her mouth and had her
suck the fingers clean. This took longer than I'd
thought and her little tongue movements were
deliberately suggestive. It also seemed that she liked
the smell of pussy juice and leather which is useful
when you are trying to make a girl into a leather slut.
I lead her back to the table and replaced the collar
fastening it again to one of the chains over the table.
I freed her hands and for a moment considered
retrieving the halter. In the end I left her topless
and busied myself tidying up the dungeon. She sat on
the edge of the table licking the juices from her
fingers deep in thought. In the end I had to know.
"Ok out with it Slave."
"Sorry Master?"
"The little speech you're composing right now, I want
to hear it."
She took a deep breath, "My college tuition, it's a
scholarship." I must have looked surprised, certainly
that wasn't what I'd expected her to say. It seemed as
relevant to what had just happened as the gross
national product of Guam.
"So?" I asked.
"If I let it lapse then I won't get another
opportunity. I know you intend to keep me for some
time, perhaps for years but sooner or later you'll get
tired of me and let me go. I want a future Master, I
want an education."
"So?" I must have sounded really stupid but the
conversation was so incredible I was lost for words.
She took another deep breath then said the rest in one
breathless sentence so as not to give me chance to
interrupt. "If you let me go back I'll be your slave. I
won't tell anyone about what happened. Please! During
term time I'll be available any time you call and I
will happily return here during any breaks or holidays.
After I graduate you can keep me here as long as you
want, I won't try to escape, I'll do anything you
want."
I looked into her eyes, there was a look of sincerity
there that told me she was serious. I should have told
her were to get off straight away but the evil part of
my mind decided to play.
"Lets discuss this further," I said. "For the sake of
argument lets say I was disposed to agree to this. When
you say anything I want what do you mean?"
"Anything," She said flatly, "Anything at all."
I stood suddenly, she flinched, stood and stepped back
as far as the tether would allow. Perhaps she though I
was about to hit her. "Suppose I want piercings," I
said remembering her reaction last time. "Perhaps a
little silver ring here and here." I touched her
nipples which became erect almost immediately. She
breathed in quickly but despite being unbound she made
no attempt to stop me. "Perhaps one or two down here as
well." My finger lightly brushed her pussy lips. She
gasped, though it was unclear if this was in response
to the words or the touch.
"If that's what you want." She said eyes blazing.
"How about a brand?" I asked innocently, "Something to
mark you as mine, let those horny college boy's know
that they are messing with someone else's property." I
could feel her stiffen.
"How about here," I said indicating a spot just above
her right nipple. A bra or regular dress would hide it,
but itsy bitsy bikini's or dresses with radical
necklines would be out.
She swallowed, "Fine..."
Now I was intrigued I wanted to know just how far she
would go. "How about a baby," I said, "A son to carry
on the family name. You'd have to sign over complete
custody rights to me of course..." She nodded
accepting even that and I realized then that she was
serious. I was stunned, never in all my plans had I
envisioned this. I was so surprised that I continued
almost on auto pilot.
She said, "What if it's a girl?"
"Huh? Then we try again," I said off hand.
"And the child?"
I was starting to get irritated, I needed to think so
my dark side furnished a viscous answer. "I'm not
interested in girls. I'll take a boy child. If it's a
girl you can look after it yourself, I don't want to be
stuck with your bastards."
It was a lie of course, as children girls are far more
interesting than boys. You can have an intelligent if
somewhat bizarre conversation with a little girl from
the age of three or four. A boy of that age is barely
articulate. If at some time in the future my slave were
to give me a daughter the little tyke would have no
trouble twisting me around her little finger. My answer
was through irritation and I really didn't expect what
happened next.
The effect on her was like a physical blow. She gave a
little wailing sound then she attempted to roll herself
into a ball. Her legs started to collapse under her and
she fell like a stone. Under normal situations it would
be dramatic but she was chained to the ceiling at the
neck and the chain was short. I moved forward but being
preoccupied I wasn't fast enough. There came a twang as
the chain pulled tight followed almost instantly by a
sharp crack sound and my heart leapt to my throat.