Damien shut the front door of the house behind him, pausing in the entryway to listen for a moment. He smiled, satisfied to himself at the silence by which he was meant. He set the mail, mostly bills, as usual, on the table next to the front door and ran up the stairs two at a time, loosening his tie and shrugging off his jacket as he walked into the Master bedroom.
He threw the jacket and tie across the bed as he unbuttoned and peeled off the light blue dress shirt, which he then wadded into a ball and tossed it across the room, watching as it sailed perfectly into the open laundry hamper in the corner. He kicked off his shoes as he undid his belt, allowing his suit pants to slide down his legs to puddle on the floor at his feet. Bending to pick them up, they too went on the bed with the jacket and tie. Then he removed his boxers and socks, tossing them into the hamper in a wide arc just as he had the shirt. One sock hung on the edge of the hamper, giving it the appearance of a tongue lolling out of a wide open mouth.
Damien slid open the door to his closet and took down a pair of black jeans and a black cotton dress shirt. He walked across around the end of the bed to the large oak dresser, sliding open the top drawer, and took out a pair of white socks, then back around to the side of the bed nearest the closet. He picked up the black jeans and stepped into them, leaving the fly unbuttoned as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks. Stretching his body and arms forward, he managed to grab the black boots sitting just inside the closet door with his fingertips, and pull them to him. He slid his feet into them, and stood, the black shirt in his left hand.
As Damien slipped on the shirt and began buttoning it up, he let his mind drift, thinking about the events he had planned for the evening. As he rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt to just below his elbow, he glanced at his watch. Six-fifteen. His guest would arrive in another forty-five minutes. Damien grinned at the thought of coming events, tucking in the tails of the shirt and fastening the button-fly of the jeans. He filled his pockets with the normal mundane items of life, then took the wide black leather belt down from its hook, threading it through the loops of his jeans as he walked out of the room and down the stairs.
Damien paused at the bottom of the stairs, catching sight of his reflection in the full-length mirror next to the front door. Straight black hair, receding in the front, coming to a widow's peak in the center and just beginning to gray at the temples. Ice-blue eyes under dark, heavy brows. A military mustache, also touched with gray, under a long, aquiline nose. Five feet eleven inches, one hundred and ninety-five pounds of lean muscle. He smoothed down the front of the black shirt and walked into the kitchen.
Damien filled a bucket with ice from the freezer and walked to the basement door, fishing the key out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and headed down the steps, hearing the sound of chains dragging across concrete as he descended. He flipped on the light switch at the bottom of the stairs and smiled at her.
Rebecca kneeled on the hard concrete floor, completely nude except for the leather collar locked around her neck. A heavy chain had been attached to the collar, the other end attached to a hook in the wall, to keep her from roaming more than six feet. The bathroom door stood open next to her, and he could see that her long golden hair was still wet from her bath.
"Greetings Master." She said, her eyes lowered in respect, hands resting palms up on her thighs. "Your unworthy slut welcomes you home, and awaits the continuation of her punishment."
Damien sat the ice-bucket on the bar, then walked past her, into the bathroom. As he stepped through the door, the motion detector caused the lights to flicker on. He'd installed it to make sure she couldn't provide light for herself from the bathroom while she was being punished. The only time the lights came on was when someone was in the cubicle. The rest of the time, she was to remain in the dark, chained to the wall. It was designed to give her time to think about her transgressions.
Damien bent down and reached across the tub, picking up the enema bag, feeling it to ensure it had been recently used. The scent of Rebecca's perfumed bath oils wafted up to him. He straightened the damp towel left to dry on the rack and walked back out of the bathroom. The lights remained on, timed to go out after two minutes of no detected motion.
He took a folding chair and placed it in front of her, with the back to her, then straddled it, resting his arms on the back and looking down at her. His eyes drank in her waist length golden hair, her kneeling five foot seven inch frame, her perky 34C breasts with the golden rings through her dark pink nipples. He let his eyes move down her body, to the smooth waxed area between her thighs. He saw the puffy pink lips of her cunt, and the glint from the overhead light off the gold ring through her clit as it peaked from beneath its hood.
"Look at Me." He commanded.
Rebecca immediately raised her head, her dark green eyes, under perfectly sculpted golden brows, looking into his ice-blue ones. He could tell she'd spent a good part of the day crying. Her full lower lip quivered slightly as he studied her.
"Did you prepare yourself as instructed, slut?"
"Yes Master. Your slut administered an enema to herself, after which she bathed, washed her hair, and waxed her legs and Your cunt, just as You had instructed, Master."
He smiled at her choice of words, and noticed the barest hint of a smile play at the corners of her mouth.
"Do you understand why you are being punished, slave?" He asked her quietly.
"Because I have displeased you, Master." Came her soft reply.
"But do you know how you displeased Me? Do you understand what you did that warranted punishment? It's important for you to understand, slave."
He watched as a line formed between her brows and she frowned thoughtfully, unconsciously drawing her lower lip between her front teeth and chewing on it.
"This girl is not certain what she did, Master, is only certain that she displeased you."
Damien sighed and stood up. He walked over to the bar and used the tongs to drop three ice-cubes into a double old-fashioned glass. Then he grabbed the bottle of Seagram's 7 and poured a double shot over the ice. He reached under the bar and drew out a can of 7-Up, popping the top of it and pouring it into the glass until it was full. He stirred his drink with a plastic stirrer, then walked back over to the chair, turning it around and sitting down on it, stretching out his legs towards her and crossing them at the ankles. Damien sat and sipped his drink for a moment, looking down at her. She kept her eyes lowered in respect, waiting for him to break the silence.
"How long have you been with Me, slave?" He asked after what seemed an eternity. The sound of his voice after the silence which preceded it caused her to jump.
"Six month, two weeks and four days today, Master." She answered.
"And are you happy here with Me, slave?"
"Yes Master. A girl is very happy. Your slave loves You Master."
"I know that you love Me. And I love you." He told her, watching her face closely. He saw the slight flinch as she heard him speak of his feelings for her, and saw the moment of panic in her eyes as they quickly flickered up to meet his, before lowering again in respect.
"That is why you are being punished, slave. I know you have issues. I know you were abused, physically and emotionally, as a child. I know that you were abused, physically and emotionally, by both of your previous Masters. But you are Mine now. I need you to accept the love I offer you, slave."
"Yes Master." She whispered.
"Don't just 'yes Master' Me." He snapped, his voice rising as he stood, causing her to jump again. "You are a painslut. You enjoy it when I beat you, don't you?"
"Yes Master."
