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status, you bring it up with Preston, whoever the hell he is. We’re just here to get our jollies.”
Nudged by their Italian leather shoes, I crawled back to the basement cage that had been my solitary home and my place of rest since I was put there Thursday night.
I imagined it was Sunday morning when I was returned to the living room, where my weekend began. The drapes were open wide, a bright sun steaming through the windows.
I was naked still, entering a room where everyone else wore clothes. I shouldn’t have expected anything different. But after three days of torture and abuse, I was numb and passive. Any rebellion in me had died. I’m not sure it was Ryder’s demonstration that convinced me. I hate to think that. But it was obvious to me that my body loved what my mind still questioned and my fears tried to hate.
I was collared, leashed and crawling, taken to the center of the room and left to wait. Sitting up, I rested my ass on my legs behind me and held my thighs open wide, while my hands were clasped to opposite elbows behind me as they had so often been since Thursday night. Several men around me spoke quietly, while they drank fresh orange juice and champagne. The smell of breakfast—eggs and bacon and coffee—filled the room, wafting in from the door beyond where the cook was fixing the morning meal. I waited, my stomach growling. I don’t remember when I’d been last been offered food, but it seemed like a century ago. Around me, the men were discussing whatever men discuss at such a gathering. It might have been sports, stocks, sailing—maybe how to whip a woman without bruising. I wasn’t listening; I wasn’t even trying to listen. I was swimming in my senses—my ears heard sounds, my nose drew in the fragrant smells of food, and my skin felt ruffled by the drafts air tickling me lightly. I felt with all my senses, but my rational mind was in a daze, and there wasn’t a thought in my brain.
There were several men to my right and three men standing to my left. Others were sitting in chairs and I couldn’t see their faces. When the three to my left turned my way, they noted my presence as if they hadn’t been aware of me before. The whole aura in the room suddenly changed, and I shivered inexplicably. Expecting to be toyed with again, my body reacted with a jarring spasm in my groin. Then the three men shifted their stance, moving aside enough to show me that my master, Preston Lockhart, was sitting in an easy chair, casually sipping coffee. My heart instantly responded with excitement, while my sex moistened warmly. Seeing me stare at him, he put his cup down.
“Skye.” The voice was the same cold ruthless one that thrummed my clit before. It seemed especially cold now and parental. He pulled from the chair and strolled toward me, looking down critically. “What’s this I hear about your wanting to leave?” He grabbed for the chain around my neck and jerked up tight, lifting me from the position, high on my knees. I nearly choked. He pulled me to him, so that my nakedness touched the smooth fabric of his pants, close enough that I could feel his legs underneath. And at head height, the heat of his crotch poured out on me. He tugged the chain with one hand, with the other grasped my chin and forced it up. “You want to leave?”
“No, sir,” I said without thinking, because that’s what I figured he wanted to hear.
“But that’s what you told my friends. Can you explain that?”
“They caned me hard.”
“And that’s a problem for you?”
“It was then,” I admitted.
“And why was that?”
I could feel my body tremble, with something angry churning in my gut.
“I wanted you, and you weren’t here,” I suddenly snapped. “I expected you and you left me to these wolves.”
He slapped my face. Stunned me. The sting radiated outward from where his palm struck flat against my cheek. He jerked the chain again, pulling me tighter, higher toward him.
“You owe these men an apology for being so rude.”
My gut wrenched at the thought.
“I can’t!” My voice, wracked with emotion, broke.
“Gentlemen,” he addressed the room of waiting men. “It would seem the slut needs a lesson in humility.” I flinched scared as a frightened rabbit. “Bring me some spice oil.”
A green glass bottle and stopper appeared in seconds, just as Preston yanked me to a large leather hassock and threw me over the thick cushion. He tied my hands to the far legs, raised my ass high with several pillows under my groin, and then tied my legs and feet as far apart as my body would stretch. Standing behind me, he sat in a chair and worked my asshole, roughly thrusting his fingers inside. When he seemed to have it loosened to his satisfaction, I felt the oil pouring inside, warm and greasy. It took just a few moments before I realized what ‘spice oil’ implied. The substance melted into my flesh, into the porous tissue inside and the tender surfaces surrounding my anus. A fire ignited within and without, turning what was just warm to blazing hot in seconds.
Then from somewhere behind me, I heard the snap of latex gloves, and felt my master’s hand driving deep into my rectum, spreading the spice oil far inside. He fucked me with his hand until I thought I would incinerate.
As hastily as he’d conducted the dreadful scene, he ended his part in it. Ripping the gloves from his hands, he handed them to one of the men. Then he leaned down so I could hear him—just a private moment, with his hand firmly on my neck holding me fast, “Get used to it, Skye. You’re not your own woman anymore. You’re mine, and you perform for me.”
Letting go of my neck, he stood up straight and backed away.
“Use her, gentlemen, as hard and as long as you like,” I heard him say. I’d witnessed the scene from the corner of my opened eye. Once he gave the instructions, I watched Preston leave the room and me to the groping hands and fleshy cocks of these strangers.
I gather some men liked my fiery portal, as they fucked me with naked cocks. Others preferred to wear condoms to protect their precious skin from the spices in my rectum. It didn’t matter to me how they screwed me from behind, each one just spread more hell, taking me to the limit of my endurance. Though I wasn’t counting, I don’t believe I missed a prick that morning, except for Preston’s—which was notably absent.
After using my ass, they let me go, untied my weary limbs, shoved me to the door. Someone said, “Exit out the door you came.” I was too numb to walk, so I crawled from the room. I suppose they wouldn’t have let me walk upright, but I’ll never know that. I also wasn’t sure what they were ordering me to do, but the answer was soon clear. The unnamed woman of Thursday evening was there to take me to the servant’s door down the corridor. My clothes were there hanging on the hook where I left them. “Could I use the bathroom before I leave?” I asked.
“Through there,” she pointed to a washroom behind me. The hot sensation in my ass had subsided, leaving a warm glowing feeling in my behind. But I was a sticky mess, and it took some time to clean away the traces of cum and spice oil. My anus had been stretched so wide that I wondered if it would ever return to normal. In fact, it seemed that my entire behind was one wide gaping hole, a territory just explored, which would remain forever prominently available for cock to screw. I stared in the mirror at my tired face, feeling curious about the woman I saw there. I saw peace in her expression, none of the emptiness I would have expected, just peace and contentment, satiation and satisfaction. Did I really feel that way? Was everything they said about me true? The slut, the cunt, the ass, the breasts, the body? Was this the real me? I wasn’t equipped to answer the question. I’d wait until later to confirm the answer, but I guessed that by that time, I had all the confirmation I needed.
My body stunk with three days perspiration reeking from my pores. Sour sex juice clung to my skin. I tied my greasy hair in a ponytail to get it out of my way. I needed a bath—no amount of washing at the sink could wipe the stains away. I needed a hot shower and a soak in the tub.
I exited the washroom and dressed quickly, while the old battle-axe watched me critically. Then I left the house, hurriedly making my way to my car. I drove toward home on th
