A Rose By Another Name

She woke on the hard floor of the cellar. She could hear the radio on upstairs and thought that it must be morning. Her bones creaking and muscles aching, she stretched as much as she could. Nauseated, the stench of her dried urine sickened her.

Old tins of paint and varnish lay around the floor, long forgotten, like her. The cellar was a cold, dirty place. An old stone sink stood in the corner, a washing machine beside it. Attached to the room was a 'coal-hole'. Black dust still remained on the floor around it. This was an old house with a great deal of history, much of which was still evident in this room mingled with modern items. Steel hooks attached high on the wall. She knew them well.

It was dark, only a small window was there but it didn't let in much light, as it was so filthy.

Sitting up she pulled the thin blanket he'd given her around her body. Praying for his return, if only to let her out of this cold cellar and have a wash. How she longed for warmth. Far worse than the cold and the spiders was the boredom. She had way too much time to think down there. Both her past and her future haunted her.

A long time ago she'd had a name. It had been Rose, named after a beautiful flower. She had liked her name but hadn't heard it spoken for many years now. Now she was only 'Slave'... or 'Girl' - if Master was feeling particularly kind.

He moved around on the floor above her. She could hear his loud footsteps as he moved round the kitchen, making his coffee and breakfast. She wished she was up there, doing it for him. She'd been down in the cellar for two days now. Surely her punishment was nearly over?

Finally, the door at the top of the cellar steps opened abruptly and her Master made his way down the dark and dirty steps towards her.

'Good morning, Slave,' he said as he looked down upon her naked and filthy body. She didn't look up at him as it wasn't permitted unless told she could, but sat with legs slightly open towards him. He reached down to her and undid the iron shackle that was attached to her right foot. The lock was stiff with age and use. He pushed her back against the wall, her knees up. He stood back and kicked her legs wider apart, roughly, with his dirty boots.

'Look at me, Slave!' said he.

She looked up at her Master, deep in his eyes, feeling humiliated and pitiful. She liked to look beautiful for him, smooth clean skin, sweet-smelling and adorable. A slave to be proud of, that was all she desired. But here, in the cellar, he'd brought her down to base level. She was a slave and wasn't allowed to have such vanity.

And it was vanity that had brought her here to this punishment. He, her Master, wished to remind her who and what she was. Looking down upon his dirty slave, the man smiled. He did love his slave; that was why he treated her this way. She needed this discipline, needed the reminder of what she was.

He stood over her and undid his trousers, then holding his penis in his hand, pointed it down towards her body.

Looking down upon his filthy, naked slave, he masturbated over her, pulling the foreskin back and forth exposing the head. Pretty soon he felt his orgasm approaching.

'Look up, Slave, and open your mouth wide!'

Of course she did as she was told, knowing what was coming.

His cum came out of his cock in jets, he aimed it into her mouth and over her face, reaching down then to smear some of it over her breasts. His cum mixed with the dirt.

She swallowed what cum he had given her in her mouth, and stayed silent. Not daring to make a sound, compliant and obedient as she was.

'What are you, Girl?' he asked in a stern fashion.

'Your slave, Master,' she replied quietly, but loud enough for him to hear.

'Slave, I will not tolerate vanity from you! You are a slave and must never forget it. Pretty clothes, make-up and nice things are possessions you should cherish, not expect. Don't ever let me catch you preening yourself alone again! I decide what you wear and whether you wear make-up or perfume. Those decisions are not yours to make... and, after two days in this cellar, sitting in your own piss, your punishment is not over yet. You will learn who and what you are and you won't forget this lesson!'

Reaching down he cupped her breast then lifted it up by the nipple. He held it tightly between his thumb and index finger. Pinching it tightly. With his other hand he did the same to the other nipple. He pinched them both hard. Tears flowed from her eyes, making clean-looking streaks on her skin.

'Lay down on your back, Slave!' he ordered.

'Hold your pussy lips open too.'

The stone floor scratched against her body... her hair, greasy and lank lay around her head. She looked far from pretty now. She looked disgusting, and she knew it. She smelt disgusting too. Dried dark stains of her own urine stank around her, shaming her. Master, towered above her, watching her.

Standing back then, he held his penis again.

He suddenly began to piss on her, aiming his stream at her neck first, then down her body. The warm stream warmed her cold body. Moving lower, over her belly briefly, then down over her opened pussy. Then he pissed all over her hands and into the folds of her most intimate parts. The stream slowed to a trickle and the last drops fell on her thighs. Then he put his penis away and pulled his belt out through the loops of his trousers.

'Stand, Slave!'

He fastened her hands in rope, which he hooked over the steel hook about six feet high in the wall. Holding his belt by the buckle in his hand, he began whipping her with it. The first stroke hit her across her back. She screamed out. He didn't gag her... he wanted to hear her scream, wanted to hear her suffering. The force of the slap had caused her skin to redden and raise where it had met the belt. He hit her again, with force, across her buttocks. Her tears dropped onto the floor beneath her. She shook and strained in her restraints, her hands high above her, movement limited. As she struggled, he hit her again across the thighs this time. Sobbing now she begged her master to stop.

'Three more strokes, Slave!' he growled behind her. With his slave openly screaming and crying, he belted her three more times... to total six strokes. He showed no mercy to his slave. She was his property. She deserved the punishment. Once the belting was over, he let her down from the hook and removed the rope from her hands.

'Slave, your punishment is completed. Clean the cellar, and then yourself, and present yourself to me in one hour. I shall be waiting in the study.'

'Yes, Master!' said Slave.

She waited for him to leave the cellar before pulling herself up. The first thing she did was clean it out... it stank and the window didn't open, but she did the best she could... and then went up the stairs. Passing by the study, she saw him inside reading his paper. Her naked body black with dirt and dried urine. She couldn't wait to get clean.

Her bathroom was at the top of the house on the fourth floor. She made her way up all the flights of stairs, her legs nearly giving way beneath her. Finally she made it to her room and got into her clean shower. Turning it on, she stood beneath it. The water washed away the filth from her body and down the plug-hole. It was heaven! She soaped herself and washed her hair with the nice shampoo Master had bought her, and shaved her legs and pussy clean... the hair growing back there had irritated her the past few days.

Thankful it was over, she returned to him