Marcus looked down at his slave, where she lay crumpled on the floor. Her body glistened with sweat, cum seeping from every hole with some already dried and crusty on parts of her body. Her nipples were dark and swollen from their prolonged abuse, and his cock lurched slightly as he imagined the throbbing pain they must be in at that moment. Across her ass and breasts red welts streaked, interspersed with the blue of bruises, a sharp contrast to the paleness of her skin. Slowly she became aware of him and lifted her eyes.
"How may I serve you Master? How may my body be used to pleasure you Sir?" She said softly.
Marcus smiled down at her. His desires, his needs, were first in her mind. Despite her own discomfort, or the fact that she had just been used by so many men she had not bothered to count; that her every hole had been filled with so much cum that it leaked out of her ass and cunt as fast as it was pumped in, and she had had to gulp and gasp to swallow down as much as she was fed; that her tits and nipples and ass flesh had been tortured and beaten til they visibly throbbed, still she offered to serve for whatever purpose he desired to use her. She knew her purpose, she knew what she was. She was nothing, nothing but an object for him to entertain himself with however he saw fit.
His circle of friends consisted of many other masters and their slaves, and he knew full well that many of his peers enlisted the submission of their slaves through pure fear. They ruled with an iron hand, and disobedience was severely punished. Their slaves did ANYTHING they wanted out of fear of doing anything but. As he looked down at his own slave he knew this was not the case with her. True, she would do anything he commanded, put her body in his hands for any unimaginable torture, but fear was not her driving force. She had brought herself to his house, had offered her body to him freely without him even requesting it, and she knew that at any time should she wish to leave his domination she was free to go. All he expected of her was to abide by his wishes and his rules while she was living as his slave, but the choice to do so had been made by her own thought process, not by way of his whip!
He had had many slaves over the years, and some, he had to say, had been unwilling to live the part. Many had been defiant, playing the game but not willing to relinquish total control. Using Molly, however, was completely different. The fact that she willingly submitted, without question, aroused him even more than any slave had ever done.
"Kneel, slave." He said softly, and Molly unfolded her aching body and brought herself to her knees, awaiting her next command just as a dog waited for its master to speak. He reached for her and slowly ran the back of his hands over the welts and bruises on her tits, brushing ever-so lightly over her tender nipples, knowing that even the slightest of touch was painful to them in their current state. She winced but responded by arching her back, offering her tits forward to him in a gesture that clearly showed that she knew they belonged to him and no matter how much they hurt he could still do as he pleased with them.
This excited him, and without warning he gripped each nipple between two strong fingers and pinched with all his might. Molly let out a yelp of pain and arched her chest even more forward to him. His cock leapt and grew instantly hard, and he pressed each thumb down against the nipples where they protruded from his fingers, adding to her pain as much as he could, then suddenly jerked his wrists till each crushed nipple was in a full twist. Again she yelped, and tears welled in her eyes, but she did not move.
"What are you, slave?" He asked, his eyes holding her gaze steadily as he attempted to pinch her nipples even harder.
"I... am... your slut, Sir. I am... a toy for you to... use at your will." though her voice was weak with pain, she showed no signs of trying to get away from his tormenting fingers.
"Yes." He said. "You are an object, a possession of mine, worthy of no better treatment than the table, or the chair, or my dog, is that not right, slut?"
"Yes Sir." she said quietly, then as an afterthought, she sucked in her breath and said "I mean, no Sir. The table or chair perhaps, but not the dog Sir. The ... the dog is more worthy than I am."
His smile broadened at her response, and his cock jumped yet again. "Yes, you are right. The dog deserves far better treatment than you. In fact, the dog is as much you master as I am, isn't that right?"
"Yes Sir."
"You would do anything for him, just as you would for me, wouldn't you slut? He may use you as I may, if he chooses to give you the time of day, isn't that right?"
"Yes Sir."
"You are my whore, and you are his bitch!" He pinched harder on her nipples to punctuate this statement, and she caught her breath and nodded, momentarily unable to speak. "SAY it!" he commanded.
"Yes... Sir... I am your whore, ... and I am the dog's bitch."
He released his hold slightly, more because his hands were tiring and he wanted to save strength to hurt her more later than for concern for her pain.
"Who owns you, slave?" he asked her.
"You own me Sir."
