Page 46 of Under His Control

Master Damon chuckled knowingly. He stepped away from the punishment horse and returned a moment later, pushing the wheeled stool. He positioned it in front of her and sat down. “Nipples numb yet?”

“Yes, Sir,” Ellen mumbled around the chain between her teeth. They still throbbed in their tight confines, but the pain was much more bearable now.

“I’ll leave them on for a while longer. Keep the chain in your mouth, meanwhile. I like watching you drool.”

As if in response, a string of saliva slithered down her chin and landed on her chest, mixing with the smear of jism still on her skin. The blob that had landed on her cheek was drying, making her skin itch in the process. Her calf muscles were growing fatigued.

It’s a punishment, she reminded herself. You’re strong. You can do this.

But her legs were shaking now, her spread cunt hovering just over the narrow wooden plank. She closed her eyes as she struggled to gather her strength. But then a sudden cramp in the arch of her right foot put an end to her efforts.

Both feet slammed to the floor. Pain exploded in her cunt, slicing through her like a knife. The chain fell from her mouth as she howled her pain.

“Ouch,” said Master Damon, his tone ironic. “That must have hurt.”

Ellen squinted through her tears, indignation almost making her forget her pain.

Yes, it fucking hurts, you son of a bitch.

Whoa. Where had that come from? Where was the always serene, demure slave girl Ellen worked so hard to be? How dare she disrespect her Master so, even if only to herself?

But she wasn’t that girl right now, was she? Today she was nothing but a filthy whore—a fuck hole who thrived on being humiliated and used for her Master’s amusement. She met Master Damon’s gaze.

“Yeah,” she grunted. “It hurts like a motherfucker.”

She held her breath, not quite believing she’d just dared to say that aloud.

But instead of anger, Master Damon barked a startled laugh. Then he rose from his stool and again straddled the horse, facing her. He placed his fingers on the clamps that gripped her compressed nipples.

“Bet this will hurt just as much.”

≈

Damon released both clamps at the same time. Ellen cried out again, more tears running down her face. Instinctively, Damon dipped his head to catch first one and then the other nipple between his lips. Gently, he suckled and kissed the red, swollen nubbins until her whimpering subsided.

Lifting his head, he met her gaze. There were still tears on her cheeks. But her lips were parted, her big blue eyes fixed intently on him, as if she wanted something from him. Resisting a ridiculous and entirely inappropriate desire to kiss her mouth, Damon stepped back off the sawhorse.

Moving behind her, he unclipped her cuffs and pulled them free. Crouching, he adjusted the legs so the plank embedded between her tortured labia was lowered. She hissed in pain as it pulled away. Getting to his feet, he guided her off the horse.

“Punishment’s over,” he announced. “Let’s see to your aftercare.”

In the bathroom, he helped Ellen to remove the corset. Then he had her lie down on a bath towel on the floor. “Spread your legs,” he ordered. He crouched beside her, a tube of salve in his hand. “Your cunt’s red and a little swollen,” he informed her. “But you didn’t break the skin. You might be sore for a while, but other than that, you’re fine.”

He gently daubed the salve over her sex. “Feel better?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

Damon got to his feet. Donning his sadist’s hat once more, he said, “That’s good, slut. Because I have a lot more planned for you today. First, I need to pee. Crawl over to the toilet and cup your hands.”

Ellen’s brow furrowed, her mouth drawing down in a frown.

Damon frowned back, adding a glare. “How dare you make that face, cunt? Now, instead of pissing into your hands, I’m going to piss in your mouth.” He prodded her inert form with his toe. “Get in the tub.”

Color rushed into Ellen’s cheeks. She flipped over onto her hands and knees. “No, please, Sir,” she begged as she began to crawl rapidly toward the toilet. “I didn’t mean to make a face, Sir. Please.” Her voice was pleading. “Piss into my hands, Sir. I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Too late.” Damon pulled back the shower curtain. “Get over here and climb in the tub. Kneel up and open your mouth wide.”

She froze where she was, halfway to the toilet, still on her hands and knees. Damon waited, not entirely sure how he should handle it if she refused.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com