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And now, as the handsome Mr. Jones ran his hand over her punished ass and reached deep between her legs in order to pinch her sensitive labia, she felt something new in her continuing sexual awakening. She felt like no more than an object, depersonalized, deprived of her humanity, indeed, Mr. Darcy’s sex slave! A shudder of desire pierced her in the gut. Such humiliation, but such an awesome sense that this was so very right for her – and so ungodly arousing to her sexual body.
“May I?” Mr. Jones asked.
“She’s yours to use. I’m sure my little minx will give your cock a good work out.”
“And what kind of beating will she take?”
“Find out for yourself,” Darcy answered. “The whips are in my bottom drawer.”
Another beating! Her ass was still so very sore from the rough spanking she’d just endured. She’d never hold on! Never! But that was exactly what she’d attempt to do.
For the second time in one afternoon, Shelby found herself over her employer’s ebony desk. This time, she was whipped with a vicious leather tawse with falls that cut like knife blades. The dozen strikes cut pitilessly into her already sore skin. At least the thrashing was delivered quickly; and the horny Mr. Jones dispensed with further punishment in order to plunge his cock where Mr. Darcy’s cock had just been. As he forcefully moved inside Shelby’s pussy, he reached around her torso to pinch her nipples. She learned that day that even handsome men can be demented sadists.
Once the man shot his seed inside her and he withdrew, Mr. Darcy stepped in and bound her hands behind her back. Then picking up the tawse, he whipped her ass, going over the territory that had already been ruthlessly punished. When he finally stopped, he said, speaking to Mr. Jones, not her, “The skin is about to break. I prefer not to leave that kind of damage. It takes too long to heal.”
Shelby didn’t hear what the man said in reply, but she heard what her owner said next:
“I’ll pierce her cunt lips with rings tomorrow to mark her more permanently as my property.”
Another shudder of fear and thrill tripped through her body. A moment later, she heard his next command:
“Kneel with your back to me.”
At first, she didn’t understand what he wanted; a blur of emotions kept her from thinking clearly and he had to repeat himself.
“Shelby, on your knees now.”
This was completely new territory in their relationship, taking her places she’d seen only in her dreams; a command that made her quake, her frayed nerves rendering her almost unable to respond
She trembled, as scared as she’d ever been.
“Now open your blouse,” he said.
Her eyes were brimming with tears as she unbuttoned her blouse down to her waist. He’d never demanded that she bare her body for him. Oh, her ass had been bared for him plenty of times, but in her mind that was much different. This was so intimate, so personal, a very different kind of exposure. Not only that but in front of a complete stranger as well – her humiliation couldn’t have been greater. She was glad that her back was facing the two men so that she didn’t have to meet their gaze.
“Now the bra,” he said.
The bra!
Tears began streaming from her eyes as she realized how far the man might go – he might have her naked, right there in his office! After some hesitation, Shelby finally reached back, unhooked her lacy bra, and set her breasts free. Her entire body rushed with a depraved erotic thrill. Though she tried to hold back her feelings, this sudden surge of energy was too powerful to ignore.
“Not a word from you now,” he said. “Not a whimper, not a sound.”
She trembled waiting, biting her lip, her hands clinging to the sides of her skirt. Her torment was worse not knowing what was going to happen next. Then suddenly, a strong cut from Mr. Darcy’s tawse lashed across her back. She lunged forward, gulping for air.
“Straighten up!” She instantly obeyed.
The strikes came on ruthlessly from that point, maybe a dozen, maybe twenty, the number was lost in the savage sensations. Never had she experienced such pain, but by force of will, she managed to suppress her urge to scream, knowing how much this would displease him.
“This is what a slave will do for her owner. Obey without question. Offer up their body for their owner’s pleasure, whether it is their owner’s pleasure to use them sexually or inflict pain. A slave gives without question, Shelby, without hesitation, holding back their own hurt. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, fighting back her desire to cry.
Despite the pain, the fear, and her profound humiliation there was something far deeper at work here. Completely bewildering to her was the weird satisfaction she gained becoming Mr. Darcy’s slave. Yet, it also felt so right, as if she were destined for slavery, fated to be the property of a man. Mr.
Darcy had been right when they first met, that he knew her better than she knew herself.
Once she’d been used for sex and soundly thrashed, her owner suddenly returned to his initial command of her. “I believe we started today with my wanting to see you come by your own hand. Do you recall that?”
