AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Good girl.” It was almost silent now. “Spread your legs as I told you. Don’t make me get the whip.”
It didn’t occur to him until much later that she might have preferred the whip to what he was about to do. He pointed to a man named Girard, who looked particularly frustrated jacking his own cock. Girard was a bottom, so he didn’t mind taking orders. “Put on a condom and fuck my slave,” said Michel. If he was in a really cruel mood he might have said something disparaging about Girard’s size, since he possessed probably half Michel’s girth, but he wasn’t feeling that cruel or petty, and Girard probably would have gotten off on the insult.
No, he wasn’t feeling that cruel, only very relaxed and sure he was doing the right thing. Valentina liked cock and she’d had quite enough of his over the past few weeks; she was probably dying for some variety. And there were perfectly hard men standing around with nothing to do, men who would probably never in their lives have a chance to fuck a pussy as delectable as Valentina’s.
“Put your hands over your head and spread your legs wider,” he ordered. “Show us how much you like it.” There was total silence as Valentina complied. Such a good slave. Not one word or motion of protest, only complete submission. He stared a moment at her glistening pussy, watched her arch her back and sigh as Girard moved into her. Too soon, his pumping ass blocked out Michel’s view.
Ah, well. He could spend the time deciding who went next. He lined up three more guys, some of them dominant types who liked submissive pussy, some of them, like Girard, subs who were eager to be forced to perform. He made sure they were all wearing condoms. When the fourth guy had trouble mounting Valentina, Michel provided lube. Through all of this, Valentina kept her hands over her head as he’d ordered her. He watched her carefully for signs of dismay or protest but she was beautifully surrendered, a slave for the ages. If she was dry, well, that was bound to happen after four guys had fucked her.
He tagged a pair of men next, and told one to use her mouth and one to use her pussy. By now guys were lined up ten deep, taking places without even asking his permission, and Michel started to have the first inkling that what he was doing might be a bit beyond back room fun. In between this group and the next, Valentina looked over at him with a gutted, bewildered look.
She didn’t have a safeword. She’d never had a safeword. Slow, he was so slow. And so cruel.
One of the dominants he knew, one he respected, walked by his chair on the way to the door. “While you’re at it, why don’t you put a noose around her neck, you fucking asshole?”
Michel pretended not to hear him. He decided that guy wouldn’t be invited into his back room ever again. But after one more pair of men fucked Valentina, Michel decided that particular scene had gone on long enough, and yelled at everyone to get out.
*** *** ***
Valentina lay very still on the floor. Her pussy hurt. Her mouth tasted like latex and a little bit of vomit, because the last guy had thrust in her too hard. My Master is going to come save me now, she thought. That’s what this whole scene was about, right? He’s going to make me endure this and then he’s going to come and gather me up and soothe me...
But he only sat staring at her from his chair. He looked unhappy. Angry. After all she’d gone through, the scene, the gangbang, he didn’t even look turned on. This upset her so much that she started to cry. Or maybe she was crying because a dozen cocks that weren’t her Master’s had just pressed into her one after the other, without respite.
I didn’t like that, she wanted to scream. I hated that. I hate you.
He finally got up from his chair and approached her, standing over her. “Calme-toi, petite. Don’t cry. It was just a scene.”
That made her cry harder. With a grim noise of frustration, he went toward the wall. She braced for some kind of punishment, but he brought back a blanket and wrapped it around her. “Let’s take you home and get you cleaned up.”
Yes, she wanted to get cleaned up. She wanted to clean this entire night off her memory forever, from the moment he’d given her the velvet corset until now, when he hauled her up without the least bit of tenderness and bundled her out to his car.
“I want to go home,” she said, shivering in the back seat.
“We’re going home.”
“I want you to take me to my home.”
His piercing eyes flicked at the rearview. “No,” he said in a hard voice. “You’re going back to my place and you’re going to spend the night there.”
“I don’t want you to touch me.”
He looked away again. “Our two hours are over. So if you don’t want me to touch you, I won’t.”
Our two hours?
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.
As much as she had loved him earlier this evening, she hated him now. She hated him for refusing to care for her and love her. She hated him for giving her to other men so carelessly and coldly. It hadn’t even turned him on. So why?
“Why did you do that?” she asked. She meant to sound angry, but the words came out as a thin whine. “Why did you let all those men fuck me and breathe on me and sweat on me...?” She fell silent, unable to say more.
“I did it because I felt like it.” She could see his frown in profile, his immovable expression. “I did it because you’re my slave and I thought you needed some cock.”
She wanted to rip his cock off and shove it up his ass. “I hated it. I hated every second of it.”
> “I’m sure you did. But you went through it anyway at my direction, which is the very definition of slavery. Good girl.”
She shot him a scathing look, even though he couldn’t see it through the back of his head. “I don’t think it’s the definition of slavery. I don’t think I’m that good of a girl, because I hate you right now.”
He gave a bitten-off laugh. “From love to hate in one night. Of course.”
“I want to go home.”
“You’re not going home. You can leave in the morning if you wish.”
“If you try to touch me—”
“I’m not going to touch you,” he said, cutting her off. “You and I have come to the natural end of things, don’t you think? It’s time for me to find a new slave, one who’s a bit less mercurial. All this loving and hating is making my head spin.”
She squeezed her hands in her lap and didn’t respond. It had been a very long night and she was far beyond fighting, far beyond anything but surviving. At his house, he made her shower while he stood outside the glass with his arms crossed over his chest. She stayed in the steaming enclosure for thirty minutes, maybe forty, just wanting him to leave, until finally he reached in and turned off the water and ordered her out.
They had another standoff outside the cage. He insisted on locking her in. She insisted on being unlocked. He finally left in disgust, telling her she could do whatever the hell she wanted.
She sat on the edge of her cage bed, leaning against the slack, unlocked panel of bars for a long, long time. Hours, it seemed. She was like a captive bird so befuddled by freedom that she didn’t fly through the door when it was opened. But she had to find the courage to fly. She knew that.
If she could only understand why he acted the way he did. She knew she wouldn’t be attracted to him if he was an evil, soulless man. She might be an emotional basket case, but she was an intuitive emotional basket case. Mr. Lemaitre was missing some part of his soul that allowed him to feel love properly. Perhaps that was why, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t finish a sketch or painting of him.
