No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

I never knew where Mistress Sharon got her money or her influence in our city. She flaunted her activities, even the shady and outright illegal ones. Yet, she did not seem to get harassed.

Because I was set and semi-retired she had no influence over me, but she sure had a lot of the population cowering at her feet. Tiny Rita had stolen the hearts and cares of some of Rita's entourage. About three weeks after Rita went so willingly with Mistress Sharon's clamoring hoard, I got two anonymous emails in one day. Both urged me to intervene before Sharon killed her. The brief messages made me believe that Rita had given up, as soon as, she realized that Mistress Sharon did not care about her and was into inflicting serious pain just like her former master.

"Sharon, this is Carl. I wanted to call you and find out how little Rita was doing under your tutelage."

"You must be fond of the little bitch to call me about a sub."

"She was in such sad shape when I found her, I was just curious, if she stayed healthy for you."

"It will cost you, if you want her back."

"You dodged my question. She must be in bad shape. Have her brought to me and I will get her back into shape."

"Fuck off, Carl."

"Sharon, she is not the right kind of material for your brand of kink. She's not a fantasy sub, she is the real thing and fragile. Let her go and move on to all the others who want to follow you. She is nothing to you."

"But she is to you. Why should I?"

"You are still trying to push me, aren't you little girl? Hurt her bad, kill her, overdose her and I'll blow the lid off your operation. Are you sure you want to risk everything for one bad sub by challenging an old retired dom, who does not want to be a threat to you? For three years, I spanked your skinny ass and fucked your lose cunt when you begged to be dominated and did not have a pot to pee in."

The phone was quiet. She was fuming and thinking.

"Come on Alice Thornton from Topeka. Let's leave your fantasy world intact."

"You are still good, you old asshole. I still had rather submit to you than dominate a hundred sniveling pussies like your Rita. Yea, you can have her worthless, crying body back. Why didn't you call for me? I would leave a smile on your face."

"I'm too old to smile. Thanks Sharon. Sometime this afternoon, Ok?"

She hung up on me.

Rita was a mess. She was dumped at my feet and did not even know where she was or who she was delivered to for thirty minutes. I sat with her quietly as she cried, shook and only saw inside her tortured mind. She was dressed in a single garment. It looked like a faded hospital gown that was sewed up the back – a big, baggy, ugly mu-mu on a frail body.

In the long quite, Rita finally looked up and recognized me sitting with my back to her about six feet away. She crawled frantically and grabbed my right leg and held tight, also wrapping her legs around my foot.

I waited; she held on and trembled, a good ten minutes.

"Rita, I have not finished my coffee. Get back behind me. Strip and kneel. Stay totally quiet until I am ready to talk to you."

I watched her in the big gold framed mirror just to the right of me. Her body was half covered with bite marks, she had Sharon's brand on her right breast and her left ass cheek, her lips were bruised and swollen and she had lost weight in just three weeks. Her knees were badly bruised. She had welts on her back, stomach and abdomen. Her hair was a mess, her finger nails were chewed very close and her toenails had chipped polish. Her feet were filthy and her body was dirty. She had trouble kneeling and staying upright; she had obviously been kept in a low cage and her back was objecting to being straight.

"Rita, your body is dirty and you smell. Go to the guest room, bathe, comb your hair, put on your robe and return to me within the hour. I have questions that you must answer very truthfully."

When she returned she looked better but could barely stand. I sat her at a child's table in the kitchen. I had prepared a small dinner with milk and bread. She ate two thirds of the meal like a starving dog, then realized what she was doing and that I was watching her. She showed some decorum after that.

"Rita, I can tell you are very tired. Can you listen and answer my questions tonight?"

"I think so, Master."

"You have turned your back on me. I am not your Master."

She started to cry.

"Were you used as a cum slut in all your holes for anyone that Mistress Sharon sent to you?"

She labored with her answer. "Yes."

"Were you whipped and mated with a dog?"

Tears were rolling freely now.

"Yes."

"How long were you with them?"

"I do not know."

"What is your name?"

"Stupid slut."

"No, what is your given name?"

"Rita."

"Your full name?"

"Rita."

She had been broken. She did not want to please; she did not want to be pleased; she did not know if she wanted to live.

"Go to bed, Rita. I will lock you in like before. I will watch over you. You will be safe in a big soft warm bed. Sleep with no dreams. Tomorrow, I will wake you, feed you and we will start over again getting you healthy."

She moved like a zombie. There was no joy, no life, no smile. Just mindless obedience to avoid pain.

The next morning I had the clinic send over a phlebotomist who also collected a urine sample, gave Rita an EKG and had her do a breathing test. Often harsh treatment like she had received can result in pneumonia, irregular heart rhythms and worse. I handed Rita a copy of her old schedule. I had marked through the date and written "Second Try, Round #2" over it. I thought I saw a slight smile.

"Rita, later today, I'll tell you where to find your clothing, make-up, etc. For now, go to the pool, swim in the nude, bathe and come to me so I can look at the damage to your body."

She was ashamed of the two brands. Both were red and slightly infected. I handed her a tube of Neosporin, "Take care of the marks that remind me, you freely and willingly left me for Sharon."

After two weeks of being locked in her room every night, eating and exercising on a rigid schedule and reporting to me for inspection each morning, I called her into my office. "You do not have HIV or Hepatitis C but again you have some things to clear up. Tomorrow, you will meet with a plastic surgeon who will take off both your brands. I do not want to see you until the wounds have healed. I have arranged for you to stay at a rehab clinic. You are free to leave but if you do, I never want to see you again." I turned my back on her and walked away.

Two days before Rita was to come back to me, she was still at the clinic. I sent a make-up artist and a photographer with some outfits over to meet with her, along with an invitation for dinner.

Rita had recovered well. She was radiant and her body was very alluring in the long skin tight black gown and with her tiny bare manicured feet. "Tonight, Little One, I want you to talk freely to me, address me as Carl, make eye contact and be equal in every way."

Conversation was shallow and aimless at best. She perked up some when I showed her the glamour photos of her from just two days ago. The 500 pound gorilla was at the table but ignored.

When dessert was served, Rita breached the subject, "Carl, I want to thank you for all you have done for me since you went out of your way and pulled me back from Mistress Sharon."

I nodded and added, "Call her Sharon. She deserves no respect from you."

"Yes, she's just Sharon. Going with her was a foolish mistake and I want to apologize to you for disrespecting what you had done for me."

She had rehearsed this speech. When I still did respond she stammered and did not know what else to say. "Tell me what to do."

"Rita, I have nothing to tell you."

Her mind was spinning out of control while she pushed her crapes around her plate. Tears rolled down her lovely cheeks making her mascara run. Her self esteem was kicking in and she struggled to find who she was. Finally, about the time the ice cream mixed with the banana slices and melted around the almond slivers a light dawned behind her pretty eyes. She got up came to the arm of my chair, removed her clothing, knelt, bowed her head and said, "Please Carl, test me, do what you want to me, see if I am worthy to stay with you and decide if I am good enough to work to please you and feel your strength."

"Do you give yourself totally to me? Trust me with your pain, your life, your desires?"

"Yes, I want to serve you and please you."

"For five days I will test you in any way I want. You will have to endure pain in the dungeon for me. You will not cum unless I give you permission. You will obey without question. You must prove that your mind, spirit and body are now mine."

"Yes, yes, I am yours."

I stood and removed my slacks. "I am going to finish my coffee. Sit under the table and gently caress and kiss my feet, until I am finished."

For ten minutes Rita played at being a sub. Without permission she rubbed her nipples on me. Also without permission she trailed one of her small hands up my thigh stopping short of my half hard cock.

"Carl, please, may I touch him and suck him?"

"Why, Rita?"

"I want to. I want to feel him in my mouth."

"NO!"

She could feel the blood pulse toward my groin and see my cock beginning to swell. For a moment she was confused. Then the right answer came to her.

"Every cell in my body needs to please you. If I can just please you, it will be enough for me."

"You may touch me, Rita."

She transformed into my loving sub; her hands were silk, tender and moving only for my pleasure. In slow motion, her hands rubbed into the slippery precum on the tip of my cock and she kissed lightly up and down my shaft. Her feathery touch got me hard quickly; my helmet was tight, red and shinny. She licked at it.

Her eyes peeked from under the table and watched mine, looking for guidance while she tasted my pre-cum and moaned. She rubbed her breasts into my knees and her hips rocked against the floor. Her moans said she was content to bask in the strength of a dominate male.

I could feel her mind re-discovering her truly submissive nature. Had she asked me if she could touch herself, I would have said, "No." So I responded first. "For me, Rita, take your right hand and slip two fingers into your wet, hot cunt. Suck me and fuck your fingers in time with your lips. Do not cum, unless I tell you. Obey me, suffer for me, please me, surrender your body to the pleasure only I can provide."

I remembered how she had rejected me. That made it easy to stay in control even with her hot, hungry mouth trying to suck the cum from my balls. Her hand worked two fingers expertly inside and pressed her magic spot while her thumb rubbed circles over her clit. Two then three whimpers and a weak voice asked, "Can I cum, Master?"

I did not correct her. She almost understood. My title was not to be casually used. I would only accept that from her when she totally submitted to me. In character, she could not think, judge or offer suggestions. Whatever I said, right, wrong, stupid or intelligent, she had to know that it was her nature to be subordinate. She could not be whole unless she had my strength, protection, order and direction.

"Please, Master."

"No, my beautiful sub, you must wait."

She slowed her hands and mouth, torturing her own body. Involuntary complaints growled in her belly and her heart pounded so loudly we both could hear. Her fingers squished the liquids about inside of her pussy and she needed to share them with me. First one, and then her other hand went to bathe in her wetness and then come up to circle me and slip tightly down my shaft. Her lips sucked at her own juices and mine while her hands went down for refills, only to return to torture me and reward her own taste buds.

She knew not to ask again, but she did, "Please, please, Master."

"Not yet. Use your throat like your cunt to please my shaft."

Rita moaned, groaned, gagged, sweated and sucked. It wasn't long for me but at least an eternity for her. Each time she took just the head of my cock into her throat, I held her shoulders; she could not breathe until I pushed her away. Sometimes I would hold her a few seconds too long and her body would convulse for air but she did not pull away.

My control of her breath drove her into her next level of submission. The pain in her stretched throat and her desire to be part of me began to spiral her deep into sub-space. She wanted to give me everything. Surely some of her movement was theatrics. Her body arched driving my cock all the way into her throat. Her teary eyes, told me it hurt. My cock lurched. I was ready.

"Cum for me now, Rita."

Her eyes closed, she pushed me in farther and my first rope medicated her sore stretched throat. Her shoulder lurched forward driving her fingers almost deep enough for her sheath to swallow her hand. She screamed but the sound was lost in her gurgling throat. Her pussy was not finished and launched from one high into another and then another. My cock was still throbbing deep in her throat when she collapsed, still impaled. I lifted her slowly watching inch by inch slip out of her lips and streams of her thick saliva flow down over my balls. I clasped her head to my wilting cock and kissed at the top of her head while stroking her neck and face.

Finally she spoke, "Thank you Master. It was so good I would have died, if you had not lifted me."

"You are welcomed my lovely Rita. I will take care of you. You waited for permission and came beautifully. That pleased me."

I could not wait any longer. I slipped my own hand down to her dripping slit and gathered her hot tasty wetness. She sighed with me as I licked her juices. How could a Dom have an oral fetish? She nuzzled at the last drops of cum on my cock, making her face glisten.

"I know who I am now, Master. Will you give me a collar?"

"My little sub, you are very impatient. I may give you a soft pink training collar, we will see. Tomorrow I will put clamps on your nipples, thrash you for being so impertinent and fuck you in every hole until I am satisfied."

"Thank you, Master."

Rita had a slight knowing smile on her face as I locked her in for the evening. For only a moment she had felt complete and happy, when she allowed her true submissive nature to rule. All her life she had been with pretenders or people who called her a freak. Quickly those memories pushed her good feelings away. Her tortured, confused mind was still seeking control that it did not want.