My head jerked up when I heard the door at the top of the basement stairs creak open. My tortured body was aching for the release that wouldn't come. There was a small puddle of moisture next to each foot, where my juices had dribbled down my legs from the constant stimulation. I was covered in a sheen of sweat, and my legs were trembling beneath me.
"Well, it looks like you had a fun night," Tristan said, coming to stand before me. I glared at him in hatred.
"Oh, don't look at me that way," he sighed, brushing a damp tendril of hair away from my cheek. "I brought you a little present to cheer you up."
He produced a studded leather collar from behind his back. I tried to squirm away from the disgusting device, but he easily buckled it around my slender throat, stepping back to admire his handiwork.
"I think it suits you," he mused to himself.
"Fuck....you," I panted, the vibrator still hard at work inside my slippery cunt.
"Manners, pet," he chided me. "You're wearing my collar. You are my slave. And I don't tolerate slaves talking back to their masters. But, this is your first day, so I'll overlook that one. In fact, we will begin your slave training etiquette right now."
He sat down on the cage in front of me and folded his arms across his chest. God, I hated the sight of him. All fresh and clean after a good sleep in a comfortable bed. His hair was still even wet from a shower. Thinking of a shower only made me more aware of my sticky body and my raging thirst and hunger.
"What do you want with me?" I asked, trying to stand up straight with what little strength I had left. "Obviously you picked me for a reason."
Tristan shrugged. "I did choose you specifically, but not for the reasons that you think. Really, it's just unfortunate that you chose to become involved with the wrong people. But there is nothing that you can do about it now."
Tangled with the wrong people? What was that supposed to mean? Whatever his purpose for her was, it was more than just a sex slave.
"I haven't trained a submissive in years, much less a slave, but the process has always come naturally to me, courtesy of the sadist inside. So let's begin with the basics," he said, changing the subject.
"As a slave, you must refer to me by a specific title. I've decided that I like master. From now on, you will address me only as Master, unless I specify otherwise. Do you understand?"
Now that was a humiliation that I refused to bear. Calling my kidnapper and tormentor Master? I could think of nothing more shameful. My cheeks were already coloring at the mere suggestion. The title brought to mind images of me crawling and groveling before his feet, and that was something that I would never do. So I remained stubbornly silent, my eyes cast on the floor.
"You may ask me one favor. One question," he said abruptly. My eyes shot up to his hopefully before I could stop myself. I decided that I might as well answer. I didn't like the mischievous light in his eyes though.
"I want you to take out the vibrator." I desperately wanted the diabolical device out of my exhausted body.
"I am willing to take it out. Just as soon as you ask me. Properly." He sat in front of me patiently, arms crossed over his chest, waiting.
I couldn't degrade myself like that. I just couldn't.
To my shock, after a few moments of silence, Tristan stood up and slid the dripping vibrator out of my pussy. He reached up and unlocked the shackles around my bruised wrists, letting them fall to my sides. I rubbed the soreness away as the tingling blood rushed into my hands. But he didn't leave me free for long.
Out of nowhere, he came up with a length of rope. He guided my hands behind my back and tied them together tightly. He left me standing on my own as he pulled two dangling clips on separate strings over on a moving track set in the ceiling.
I saw where this was going, and I tried to dash away, but my legs were weak after standing all night, and Tristan easily caught me. He positioned me under the clips, lowering them until they were on the level of my breasts.
"Please don't, they're so sensitive," I pleaded.
He held up a hand. "You do not have the right to speak, slave, until you address me properly."
I shut my mouth, determined to hold out.
My resolve wavered as he screwed one of the alligator teeth clamps on my left nipple. I bit my lip and managed not to scream, though I whimpered when he fastened the second one to my other nipple.
His dark blue eyes crinkled as I fought to hold back my cries of pain.
"It only gets better from here," he assured me. "Now, did you have something you wanted to ask me?"
When I didn't answer, he pulled out a small triangular weight and hooked it on to the looped end of the cord that was thrown over the pulley at the top. My nipples were stretched upwards.
I gasped in shock, rising up on my tiptoes to try to alleviate some of the biting pain. Still, I remained silent. The pain was bad, but the humiliation of calling him master would be even worse.
Tristan added another, bigger weight. I yelped as my nipples were stretched out even more, the metal teeth digging into the sensitive buds.
"Had enough yet?" he asked. I gritted my teeth and tried not to think about the pain. Don't let him reduce you to an animal, Emory.
The third weight, with the added pressure of his fingers yanking down, had me howling at the pain. My nipples felt like they were about to be ripped off of my chest. Tristan flicked the largest weight, sending the cord swinging back and forth. I moaned, wanting to relieve the agony but unable to, due to my bound hands.
Without a word, Tristan turned on his heel and left the basement. Was he angry? I didn't like the thought of an angry Tristan. If he was this sadistic when he was amiable, could I even hope to survive the consequences of his wrath?
The pain in my chest was becoming unbearable when I heard footsteps on the stairs. Tristan appeared, and balanced on his hand was a tray of steaming hot food. The smell was heavenly as it hit me, reminding me of my powerful thirst and hunger.
"Ah yes, I thought you'd react to this," Tristan commented. He set the tray down on a steel table about ten paces away, where the smell would still tantalize my complaining stomach. This torment was too much to resist.
"Did you have something you wanted to ask me?" he smirked. That smirk almost made me growl. I lifted my chin and stared at him defiantly. His grin only widened.
"Emory, I don't understand what you think you're accomplishing by holding out. You know that you will inevitably submit. Why make it more painful for yourself?"
He picked up a riding crop off of a shelf as he sauntered towards me. I closed my eyes, the growling in my stomach pronounced because of the food sitting in front of me.
