“You're an uppity bitch, aren't you? You think you can just do as you please. Even when you're told not to. You still do what you want. Haven't you learned anything yet, you slut?" My Master growled clipping his words as his eyes narrowed to slits, his nostrils flared, his lips curled cruelly. He looked like evil personified. I hated him with every fiber of my being. His breathing was fast and shallow as he grabbed me by the hair pulling me off his bed. He held me suspended by my hair as I attempted to extricate myself from his tangled afghan with cuffed wrists and ankles.
SLAP! SLAP! My head felt like it was being detached from my body as he slapped me while still holding me by the hair. My ears rang. The tears, once again, flowed. I'd cried more in the last ten days than I ever had in my life. I was scared. I was hurt. I was so humiliated. The worst, though, was the realization that the pain and the humiliation made me so hot, so wet. It made me feel like a traitor to my husband. I wanted to feel this monster's hands bring me to life, as a sculptor does a block of clay. At that moment my body arched towards his crotch, in a pantomime of "Fuck Me." It was as if I was two people, my body had become pure slut aching for his cruel possession while my mind fought him at every step.
You see, all I had done was curl up and take a comfy nap in his big bed wrapped up in his worn afghan. It was my first comfortable deep sleep since my kidnapping ten days ago. It was the first time he had left me in the cabin alone and I was so fatigued and his bed was so much more comfortable than my pallet. I thought I could just take short nap without him knowing. I'd rushed through my kitchen duty to carve out the time. I thoroughly expected to hear Master as he approached the door. I didn't, now I was paying. "But my pretty, I can and I will fix you, just you wait and see. Slut." Surprisingly the last word could have been a word of endearment, he said it with such tenderness. Master is an enigma.
His attempt at soothing me was wasted, I was like a she-devil awoken. My adrenaline spiked, "Ouch, you fucking bastard, let me go!!! "My cuffed hands clawed at his hand as he twisted my long hair around and around. I was sure he was pulling it out by the root. At that moment, I wished I hadn't pulled my curly auburn hair up into that high ponytail. My nails, the worse for all my woes, dug into his flesh as sharp as razors. I extracted my pound of flesh sliver by sliver. It gave me a perverted sense of pleasure to catch sight of his collection of Band-Aids.
He had the audacity to tie me spread eagle in his frame as my punishment for taking my little nap. That wasn't enough to tickle his perverted mind he’d taken it further by carefully, meticulously winding heavy white cord around each breast until they stuck out like gross foreign appendages topped off with my gold nipple rings. At first it hadn't seemed that bad, at least I wasn't being raped, yet again. Master Geoff had stood close enough to me as he wound the cord that I could feel the warmth of his body against my nude skin. I felt his warm moist breathe against my cheek. He smelled like mint. I wondered if my breath smelled as minty to him.
While he wrapped me, he repeatedly told me that I was his slut, his fuck toy, and his painslut. The tone of his monologue was soft, caressing but left no room for arguing, "Suzie, you're such a little slut, aren't you? I bet you begged that husband of yours to abuse you, didn't you?" I emphatically shook my head, but my gag prevented any comeback. I attempted to mentally distance myself by remembering my family, dreaming about my babies. When I failed to appropriately nod he'd flick my nipple rings instantly snapping me back to reality. My juices were leaking pretty good by the time he finished. Pain and pleasure still did not equate in my mind, but not so to my tortured body.
Once he was done wrapping he proceeded to take a series of digital pictures from every angle possible. This was the first time I was aware of being photographed. I turned my head to keep him from capturing my soul in those pictures or so I thought. "Why so shy now, pet?"
I vacantly gazed at him as his words slowly seeped into my brain. He nodded. I shook my head furiously. "No," It came out half plea and half whimper and totally unintelligible.
"Every moment since you arrived. Everywhere. Yup, even there," he explained with a toss of his head towards the bathroom door. I was frantic. I twisted this way and that attempting to discover the hidden camera lens. In my frenzy my poor breasts were forgotten for the moment. He chuckled at my antics.
Gradually I calmed down enough to feel again. The pain wasn't bad, but constant. My breasts felt as if they were on fire and freezing cold at the same time, so strange. I looked down at my grotesque breasts, all distended and an angry reddish-purple, nipples standing proudly at attention. The pain generated a deep ache that almost made me nauseous yet I felt my body spasm in response.
My eyes pleaded with him. My Master lazily leaned against the post. His head at the level of my pinioned hand so that my fingers plowed through his thick wavy hair as he rolled his head back and forth. We danced this pleasant little waltz for sometime.
Then it happened. With a little smirk, he pulled the ends of the stings he'd been toying with the other ends were wound tightly around my breasts. We watched as the string grew taunt, and started to unwind with deliberate slowness. I innocently let out a sigh of relief sure that my torture was nearing an end. Little did I realize what was coming. The strings fell to the floor, I watched them flutter down puddled on my toes. The white trenches left by the vacating cord filled with bright red blood. At first there was no additional pain then it came in waves as the pooled blood rushed out replaced with pumps of fresh blood. I closed my eyes and prayed that my heart would not pump so fast. I felt faint from the excruciating pain.
Master Geoff's laugh started as a low chuckle crescendoed in a bona fide belly laugh, "Slut, you should see yourself. You're a sight. Stop your blubbering!" I sobbed in pain. He rocked to and fro on the pillar laughing. He rolled a little too far around the post just once. In that split second as his face came under my hand I reacted. A cobra's reaction speed had nothing on me. My long nails now all broken and chipped after my accident, the horribly, rough treatment in this house of horrors combined with my continued bondage were more like weapons than my usual red manicured nails. I instinctively aimed for his eye and locked my knuckles as he turned my claws raked down his cheek. Master gasped in shock as the blood ran down his face. I could feel ribbons of his skin under my nails.
I cowered as far back as I could, deathly afraid that I had gone too far. He made a move towards me and I frantically screamed into my gag. I pleaded to him with my eyes. He pulled his hand back and I froze expecting my head to explode from his attack. Only his aim was lower. He struck my throbbing breasts, time and again. The blood dripped off his chin. "You fucking bitch, look what the hell you did. Why did you do it?" He growled at me standing almost nose to nose.
That question just about floored me. He was questioning me about why I would retaliate after my last ten days, after what he had done to me, after my piercings, after my rapes and continuing humiliation. How dare he? I knew, though I couldn't smile, my eyes were sparkling with the fire of anger and pride at the fact that I could still retaliate. Despite the fact that I was all trussed up, I felt free for the first time since I arrived.
Master has worn my mark ever since that fateful afternoon. I paid big time for my attack. I was left tied and gagged, just as I was for the next twenty-hour hours. There were no bathroom breaks nor food, though he did allow me water. I will never forget my dismay when he told me my punishment for this severe transgression, as he called it, "You fuckin' little bitch, I should sell you for doing this," he said holding his white handkerchief against my claw marks. "But that would be too painless. No, you are mine for life."
"Shit! How am I ever going to explain to the guys that I gave you the opportunity to claw me. I will be the laughing stock of the camp. You silly little bitch, say good-bye to your pretty nails." He whispered, "They're going."
I was left alone to contemplate what I had done while he attended his injuries. I could here him banging around in the bathroom and muttering to himself. I sure hoped he would take all his frustrations out on the vanity doors. I was afraid what he would do if he was still angry when he returned. I knew the moment I saw his glowering face that he was still seething. I attempted to plead with my eyes and the unintelligible grunts and groans that I emitted behind my gag. All I accomplished was to drool.
He ignored me. I never let him out of my sight. I twisted as far as I could to watch his movements. I trembled. The not knowing, I think, was the worst. He reached into the garbage and brought out a bunch of coffee stained newspapers. He approached me. I could still see the coffee grounds on the thick pile of the Sunday LA Times. I watched perplexed. Two things, he the neat freak was leaving a trail of used coffee grounds across the floor and what the hell was he going to do with them. I knew he had read it thoroughly yesterday.
"You, my little fucktoy, will be staying here for the next twenty-four hours. Yup, just like this. So I guess I better put down some papers, I don't want to have to clean up the floor too much. Are you paper trained my little pet? Do you think I should put down a plastic sheet first? I'd hate the carpet to smell like my slut's piss forever. I'll be right back."
Alone I tried to get control of myself, I was hyperventilating just thinking about being left like this for the next day. How would I sleep or eat? Sleep I might be able to do, I surmised. Eating and drinking was out. That would mean... mean I'd have to go, you know and I wasn't ever going to do that. No way. It was bad enough to be left here like this but he wouldn't win. I looked at the clock, it was five minutes to five. I watched the second hand move. It moved pretty fast. One minute. Two minutes. I decided that wasn't too bad. I could do the time. I guess I must have given a shrug just as he came back up the stairs.
He looked to see what I had been looking at, "Ah, the clock. You think it will be a cake walk. Think again." He knelt and placed what looked like an old shower curtain under my feet. He had to lift each one, I was not helping him in any way. I did lean over though to watch, my drool dripped in long stings landing on his dark curly hair. I had to smile to myself if only he knew.
