Tethered Pt 04

This is the final part of Tethered. I want to thank everyone for reading and for your comments. They are much appreciated. I hope you enjoy how everything wraps up.

SDNight

21

She started to rise. Cassandra stopped her. "No, no. Little pets shouldn't walk unless they're told to do so." She went to her hands and knees and began crawling to the authoritative woman. "Much better." Cassandra patted her thigh. She went to her, knelt at her feet, and placed her head where summoned. The cloth of the dress was cool against her cheek. Cassandra stroked her hair. "She takes instruction well."

No answer from her master. He must've merely nodded, or he found the statement beneath his acknowledgement.

Of course, I'm well-trained. He trained me, bitch.

"What else does she do well?" Cassandra asked.

"As I said, find out for yourself."

At that, the fabric of Cassandra's dress moved beneath her cheek. The woman took the dress at her thighs and lifted it until, beneath the table, she bared herself. Still in position, her cheek now touching bare thigh, she waited, seething. Cassandra traced a single fingernail down her face. She refused to react to the woman's touch. "I don't know your commands, little pet, but I don't need to. You know what's required of you."

She crawled under the table, positioned herself between Cassandra's parted legs. The woman wore no panties. She started by peppering Cassandra's left thigh with light kisses, working her way inward, then teasing her pussy with a soft exhalation of breath before moving to the other leg and working her way down it. Hearing no response, no sighs, no moans, she teased a little longer. Nothing. The room was quiet. She opened her mouth and closed it on the slit between the woman's legs, working her tongue into the moist folds. She found her clit easily, but kept the tip of her tongue away from it. Instead, she explored. Damn it, the bitch tasted wonderful, and grew wetter with each lick, each prod. Yet, still no sounds. Fine. She slipped a finger inside Cassandra, rotated it, rubbed at her, massaged her most tender parts. She alternated the pressure of her tongue as she lapped between the woman's legs. She licked at her clit, first slowly, then speeding to steady flicking motions.

Finally, a sound, though not any she'd been hoping for.

"There's a village in a valley about thirty miles from here," Cassandra said, her voice unchanged. "That's our closest neighbor. We interact a little, mostly vegetable trade. They're a decent lot."

"How long would that trip take?" her master asked.

"By foot? About four days."

Her mouth and cheeks were wet with Cassandra's juices. Her cramping tongue was buried inside her, working furiously. Yet, there wasn't even a hitch in the woman's breath as she carried on her conversation. She slipped her hands underneath the dress and soothed them up to her breasts.

"Uh, uh. No hands," Cassandra said casually. "Put them behind your back."

Bitch

.

"What about over the mountain?" her master asked.

Her sticky cheeks grew warmer. Sweat formed on her forehead, spilled into her eyes and stung. With her hands behind her back, she could only support herself by pressing harder into Cassandra's pussy. Her arched back screamed a protest. Her jaw popped. When the hell was this woman going to come?

"That's a hike. It'll take a couple weeks at best. Probably more. Even when you make it down the other side, the next place with any decent sort is another eighty miles."

"You're sure?"

"We keep up with our neighbors."

"Of course."

She stalled her tongue, tilted her head to the side to draw a deep breath. She was panting, almost gasping. She didn't move her hands though. Her master would be severely displeased if she disobeyed the woman. As she turned her face back to commence, Cassandra grabbed a handful of her hair and lifted her off.

"Enough," the woman said. She held her aloft as she smoothed her dress back down. With her other hand, she patted her thigh, then released her.

Steadying her breathing, she returned to Cassandra's lap. Her muscles ached, and her limbs quivered from the exertion and awkward positioning. How long had she been between the woman's legs? Ten, fifteen minutes? The trembling she knew Cassandra could feel embarrassed her. Hadn't the woman just questioned her toughness? Yes, and now she'd been reduced to shaking like a scared mouse. She cast that worry aside. There was a more pressing concern. Why had the woman stopped her?

Enough

. She obviously hadn't had an orgasm. Had she jerked her away because she was on the brink? Much worse, had she done so because she hadn't liked it and had grown irritated with her fumbling around? She swallowed hard, immediately wished she hadn't. It felt as if a rock had worked its jagged way into her esophagus.

"When will you leave?" Cassandra asked, and resumed stroking her hair lazily.

"Soon," her master said.

"Then we'll loan you a horse. No, don't object. We often trade them with our neighbors. It'll save you significant time. It's not as dangerous up here as down there, but the mountains are still treacherous. Best not to be without shelter any longer than need be."

"I would be in your debt."

Cassandra laughed. It wasn't the worst sound she'd ever heard. The fingers running softly through her hair tightened suddenly, tugging at her scalp. "Oh, I think after tonight, we'll be quite even."

The rock worked its way down further.

"Stand, little pet," Cassandra said.

She rose on unsteady legs. She kept her head bowed, eyes on the floor, hands behind her back. She awaited further instruction in a fog of anxiety, uncertainly, and, she hated to admit, expectancy.

"Who owns you?" Cassandra asked.

She almost said

You do

. It had been her answer to that specific question for so long that it was ingrained, a reflex, a habit. "My Master," she said.

"Correct, but for tonight you will obey me. Understood?"

She didn't need to look back at her master for assurance. He'd chosen to gift her to this woman. If he had any problems, he'd let them be known. "I understand."

Cassandra slapped her face. It wasn't particularly hard, but it caught her off guard. "I am not your Mistress, but neither am I undeserving of proper respect. You do not answer me as if I was some gal pal of yours." Cassandra reached out and gripped her chin, forced her to meet her eyes. "Yes, ma'am. No ma'am. That is how you answer me, little pet." The woman thrust her chin away. She bowed her head again. "Now, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She wanted to rip the woman's hair out of her head. Who was she to talk to her this way, to treat her this way? If her master desired for her to do this, fine, she would. She'd do any demeaning thing required of her for his pleasure, but she didn't have to like it. He'd shared her many times over the last year, but those people had understood their place. They bossed her around, made her do all manner of things, hurt her, pleasured themselves with her body, but no one spoke to her as if they owned her. She had given that to only one person. No, she didn't like Cassandra at all. Her voice, though, that composed, controlling, confident voice, that she couldn't seem to make herself hate.

"Better. There are four rings screwed to the wall over there." She pointed. "Go stand in front of them."

She started toward the rings. She hadn't taken two steps when Cassandra snatched her by the hair and forced her to her knees. The woman's mouth was at her ear in an instant. "Did I tell you that you could walk?"

"No ma'am," she said, wincing.

"No, I did not. You better learn quick, little pet, or tonight will be much rougher on you than necessary."

Cassandra released her, and she crawled on hands and knees to the wall with the four rings. Her cheeks were flushed. Heat escaped from the neckline of her dress. Neither was from embarrassment. A vivid image of sending Cassandra's body tumbling down the stairs popped into her head. She suppressed a sinister grin.

She reached the wall, inspected the rings. Four of them - dull grey, a bit rusted, about three inches in diameter. Two were about ankle level. The others were just the right height to attach a pair of wrists. That is, if a person raised their arms and spread them wide. If she hadn't already figured out that this wasn't Cassandra's first rodeo, this did the trick.

Footsteps came up behind her.

"Stand. Now, take the hem of that pretty dress in your hands. Raise it to your chin, and show yourself to me." She bared her body to the woman. She would've loved to gauge her reaction, but couldn't with her eyes cast down. "Stuff the fabric in your mouth, bite down, then drop your arms to your sides."

When she'd done as instructed, Cassandra took one of her breasts in her hand. The hand was rough, a worker's hand, but it was warm. It squeezed at her, not gently. Fingers found her nipple, pinched hard and tugged down. A soft cry escaped her lips before she could snatch it back. The hand released her tender nipple, and nails scratched down her stomach. Cassandra cupped her pussy. She willed it to be dry, unenthusiastic, disinterested. It was none of those things, damn the little traitor. Two fingers thrust inside her. When Cassandra pulled them out, she knew they'd glisten with her juices.

"Let the dress fall. Turn around." She did. Cassandra lifted her dress up and over her head. The hem tickled her nose. Fingers pried at her lips. "Open." Mouth open, the fabric was forced in deep. "Bite down. Spread your legs wide." When she had, she heard footsteps walking away from her. They returned moments later, and a hand clutched her left ankle. With impressive speed, soft rope was looped around her ankle, fed through the ring, and tightened securely. Cassandra affixed the right ankle just the same. "Arms over your head, spread wide. Do not let that dress fall out of your mouth."

In moments, she was fastened to the wall. She had a little room to wiggle, but not much.

Cassandra cupped both of her cheeks and dug fingernails into her flesh. She traced lines across a few old scars. "Impressive. Lovely. You do good work."

"An artist must create," her master said from his chair across the room.

Hearing his voice made her long for him. She didn't want to be this brash woman's canvas. She was not her master. She could beat her within an inch of her life, but she wouldn't be anything but a pale imitation of the man who owned her, body and soul.

"What do you think?" Cassandra asked her master

"Very nice. Where'd you find such a thing?"

"Made it myself."

Made what

?

"May I?"

"By all means."

"Sturdy. The lace work is beautiful. Excellent strands. Oh, that's a devilish addition."

What

?

What's a devilish addition

? The good humor in their voices scared her. Amused sadists were trouble.

"Think she can take it?" Cassandra asked.

"Yes, but there's only one way to know for sure."

She tensed as Cassandra approached from behind. She opened her eyes, but all she could see through the veil of the dress were the wooden planks she was bound to. Breathing through her nose and out her mouth, she relaxed her anxious muscles. Whatever it was Cassandra had custom made, it would hurt all the more if she remained this tight.

A multitude of leather straps hit her naked back in a fanned out pattern. That answered the first question. A flogger. They didn't really hurt. They caused more of a thudding sensation. Multiple strikes from a flogger were like a deep massage mixed with a flurry of heat. Cassandra hit her back many times in succession, her technique quite good, then moved to her ass. The heat spread over her body. She moaned her pleasure. A moment later, she realized her error. The succeeding strike connected with her left buttock. Fire, not heat, exploded on the spot. It felt like her cheek had been bitten by a half-dozen red ants. The next hit caught her left side and wrapped around to her ribcage, causing a terribly similar feeling of being bitten or burned.

A scream roiled in her belly. Strikes kept coming. Her skin was on fire. What the ever-loving fuck was this bitch hitting her with? She swallowed the scream, mashed it down deep. No way she was giving this woman the satisfaction. More hits, harder, faster. She felt as if her skin was melting off her body. She forgot about relaxing. Her muscles strained so tight, she thought they might burst. She diverted all her focus away from numbing and transferring the pain. She kept only one train of thought in her head.

Don't scream

.

Don't cry out

.

You can do this

.

Fuck her

.

Over the thudding in her head, she heard Cassandra's breathing change from measured to heavy, verging on panting.

I can do this all night, bitch, or pass out trying

.

The barrage ceased.

She slumped in her bindings, exhausted. Sweat trickled down her back like a waterfall. Someone, she was certain, had parted her skin and stuffed hot coals inside the wounds. Her head pounded to the beat of her racing heart. She couldn't hear anything over the jet engine roar of her own ragged breathing.

Cassandra drew in a deep breath. "You look spent, little pet. Beg me prettily, and I won't start round two."

"No, ma'am," she said, hoping she sounded as defiant as she intended.

"Is that so?" Cassandra chuckled. "Oh, you weren't fibbing at all about this one. She's got some real spirit."

Damn right

.

"I can fix that," Cassandra said. "If you wouldn't mind helping just a tiny bit, it will go much quicker."

"Pleased to," her master said, and she heard his chair creak as he pushed away from the table.

Cassandra pressed her body against her burning back seductively, arms wrapped around her waist in a hug. She whispered into her ear. "I'm going to untie you now, little pet. You need to stand."

She moaned, possibly whined, recognition. She almost did collapse when she was freed. Her torso felt far too heavy to be support by her trembling legs. She vaguely wondered what came next, how Cassandra was going to fix whatever she was going to fix. That was a vacant thought, though, barely tangible. Most of her head space was occupied by a thankfulness for being unbound and a deep desire to soak her body in ice-cold water.

"Down, little pet," Cassandra said, granting her no time to dwell.

She lowered to hands and knees at the woman's side. Something lay just in front of her. The flogger. Her master had been correct, the lace work was beautiful. The little barbed balls on one side that looked like grass burrs were decidedly less so. She fantasized about feeding Cassandra her little demons, burr by nasty burr.

"We do a lot of work with wild horses around here," Cassandra said to her master. Her breathing had regulated, and her casual tone had returned. It was grating. "There are a lot of them up here. They come down to the valleys to graze and drink. When we need one, we send a few people out. They rope them and bring them in. The beautiful beasts kick and buck, fight the whole way. It only gets worse when we try to break them. They don't want to be tamed. They like being wild and unburdened, but we have need of them. They're useful. It's arduous work, breaking them. And in the process, they break us a little. A finger here, a wrist there. But I'll let you in on a secret." Cassandra reached down and scratched behind her ear. She jerked her head away, made a noise she didn't intend to sound like a snort. "I'm really good. Haven't met one yet I couldn't eventually tame. The meanest bitch I've ever dealt with, a week later she was eating apples right out of my hand."

"Of that, I have no doubt," her master said. He sounded amused and intrigued.

She pictured him at the bottom of those stairs this time.

Cassandra took her gently by the hair and began to lead her forward. "Have you ever seen how cowboys break a horse?" she asked.

"Can't say I have."

"It's really quite vulgar, I'm sorry to say, but it works." The woman led her toward the opposite wall. She hadn't pulled her dress above her knees, and she was sure it was getting dirty. "You start with a bridle, like...uh...like this one here." Something metallic jangled as Cassandra pulled it from the wall. "Simple thing. Goes over their head. Chin up, little pet." She was mortified the second she felt the cold metal being fixed onto her. Cassandra fitted the bridle over her face. She smelled freshly-oiled leather as Cassandra buckled straps at the back of her head and neck. The apparatus forced her mouth open wide enough her ears crackled. "Usually, that part's a bit. Keeps them from biting us, but I made this one special. It will do nicely for our purposes."

"Yes, I think it will work just fine."

"Next - I told you this was vulgar - we have to weigh them down and hobble them. They'll buck and kick up a storm regardless, but this tones that down quite a bit." Cassandra slapped metal hoops on her wrists and ankles, then clipped a chain to each one, so that it went from ankle to ankle, wrist to wrist, and each ankle to each wrist in a rectangle pattern. "Be a dear and hand me those bags there."

Next, the woman laid rope across her back, then it was pulled tight, biting into her skin. Feeling ridiculous, she snuck a peek behind her. Two heavy bags were attached to each end of the rope. She found it hard to keep her back straight, and had to arch it. Ass high in the air, she damned both of them.

Cassandra grabbed the back of the bridle and started to lead her away, but stopped. "Oh shit, I almost forgot. Every rider needs her special tool." She whisked away and was back in a flash. In the next flash, something snapped against her ass with a fiery sting.

"Her riding crop," her master said.

"Her riding crop," Cassandra said, mirth dripping from her.

The bridle hadn't been on more than three minutes, and already her jaws ached. A line of drool spilled from her mouth. She looked down at the small pool of saliva on the floor, and sighed.

"Some animals," Cassandra said, "act docile at first. They allow you to get close. They're smart. They're toying with you. They have no intention of obeying. They just want you to let your guard down. Some even follow a few minor instructions. Like one tap..." Cassandra snapped her ass with the riding crop. It was no mere tap. "That means slow down. Two taps..."

Snap

,

snap

. "That's speed up. Three means Go, and four means Stop." These too, she demonstrated with stinging smacks to her ass, each in the exact same spot.

Cassandra addressed this to her master, but she was clearly aiming it at her. To emphasize this, the woman delivered three "taps" to her behind. She began crawling forward. The chains clattered on the wood floor. They were exactly the hindrance to progress they were meant to be.

Snap

,

snap

. She sped up as bet she could. When she was about to reach the wall, Cassandra tapped her right shoulder. She turned right. She circled her around the room, snapping and tapping. Each time a knee connected with the wood floor, a spasm shot up her leg, and she tried to grit teeth that were being forcibly held apart. Warm drool continuously dripped from her chin.

She felt like a fool, stumbling around on the floor, drooling all over the place. She knew both the wretched woman and her master were enjoying her discomfort and shame immensely. That was the point, of course. She was a grown woman, though, not some fucking pony to be paraded around. Yes, she was a slave, and, yes, she would endure it, but she loathed it. This wasn't like being displayed at a party, her private parts on show for all to see and gawk at. Oddly, it was also far removed from being led around by a leash. That, at least, she could find some dignity in. This was abhorrent. They were just making fun of her. She pictured the grin on her master's face and burned to slap it off.