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The sight of the whipped bottom brought another sob from my chest, but in this one, to my mortification, I felt a surge of need that made my hips move desperately inside the restraint of the belt. I took my eyes from the screen, and I looked at Master G, whose own expression seemed very intent but also entirely impassive. His face seemed to tell me that I had moved beyond his care, and that perhaps he hoped I would serve my owner pleasurably, but Master Hendryk would see to giving me the harsh remedial training I so clearly needed.
I felt my master’s left hand move downward, over the tucked-up skirt of my flimsy nightgown, over my tailbone, to take gentle hold of my whole bottom. My eyes went back to the screen, because the image had zoomed in again, to show in exquisite enlarged detail what Master Hendryk’s big hand looked like, covering the round little cheeks where he had left his cruel marks. My rear end squirmed under his possessive caress, and I arched my back helplessly. A whimper emerged from my slightly parted lips. The sight of it on the screen and the feeling of those strong fingers, somehow both soothing and agonizing on the welts of the cane, made the need in my exposed pussy grow past anything I had ever felt before.
I couldn’t look at Master G, because I felt sure that if I met his eyes again I couldn’t keep resentment off my face, an accusation that he hadn’t trained me as completely as he should have. I closed my eyes and hung my head as my master explored me further with his hands. I heard a clatter as he dropped the cane to the stage, and then he had both his hands on my backside, pulling my bottom-cheeks apart.
I squeezed my eyelids even further shut as I understood that he was inspecting the darkest, most private place of his new bed girl’s anatomy. I knew with a shiver of humiliation that the screen showed the tiny, cringing flower of my anus to the audience in obscene detail. A murmur of appreciation went through the crowd, or perhaps I only imagined it, because I had a rushing in my ears from the furious beating of my heart.
“Lovely,” my master murmured. “We’ll open you up there in just a few moments, Renee. But I want to try out this wet little cunt first.”
I felt his hands leave my bottom, and I let out a sob of relief at the feeling of my cheeks closing to hide my shameful secrets. His right hand took hold of the belt across my waist again, and at the same time I felt the head of his hard manhood press at the entrance to my dismayingly warm sheath, parting the lips and slowly pressing into me. A moan broke from my lips. Again my limbs responded without my having any say in their movement: my hips bucked and my whipped backside pushed out, as if welcoming the conqueror who had so sternly and justly corrected the faults of his new possession.
His fingers were suddenly in my hair again, twining into my ponytail and forcibly raising my face.
“Look at the screen, you little slut,” Master Hendryk growled. “I want you to watch yourself getting fucked by the man who owns you.”
CHAPTER6
Renee
I opened my eyes. I saw the terrible image and a thrill of wanton arousal went through my whole body at the sight of my master’s cock entering my pussy. I moaned again. I only realized as I felt Master Hendryk thrust himself all the way into me, and watched it on the screen, that I had obeyed him without even thinking of the consequences.
Because youwantto watch him fuck you.
The picture on the screen came from above. The camera drone must be hovering over Master Hendryk’s head, so the audience could see from his lordly perspective, as he looked down at my whipped bottom, his thick, hard cock connecting us obscenely. The length and girth of his manhood, jutting out lewdly from the woolen fabric of his tuxedo pants and invading my wanton, clenching vagina pressed inward slowly. My master, I could somehow tell from the way his hands gripped the belt and my hair so firmly, didn’t mean to be gentle with me: no, he wanted me to feel every massive millimeter of his first thrust inside his new concubine.
I cried out in need and discomfort, the two seeming equally mixed in my overwhelmed nervous system. Any idea of controlling my breathing flew out of my mind; I panted through open lips as I felt it and watched it, this dominant possession of my private places by the man who had purchased me only a few minutes before.
His rigid penis thrust in further. Master G had an enormous cock, like all the Institute trainers, and I had supposed that after so much fucking from him my pussy would be able to take any man’s hardness. But Master Hendryk’s was just as big, and something about the abject fear my new owner inspired in me seemed to make my vagina contract with arousal and with forced pleasure, over and over, so hard that each centimeter his iron-hard penis invaded my sheath felt like he was opening me again for the first time—like my master, through the sheer harshness of his training, had turned me back into a virgin, so that he could deflower me for a second time.
I looked at the screen and I saw my punished bottom. A sob of terror came from my throat as I thought about what Master Hendryk meant to do next, and how much it would hurt. Master G had said many times that the relaxation exercises we learned in our Feminine Pleasure class would let us avoid almost all the discomfort of anal sex, even our first time. I couldn’t remember a single one of those exercises as my owner sheathed himself completely in my vagina and my hips bucked to welcome him despite how deeply enmeshed the pain was with the pleasure.
On the screen his black-clad lap came up against my pale bottom, covering up the three double lines from the cane, except for the hint of one of the welts just showing above the place where skin and cloth met. I felt the scratchiness of the wool there, on the terribly sore marks of my master’s cruel correction, and I whimpered, tears pricking the corners of my eyes.
“That, my dear,” Master Hendryk growled, “is a nice, tight cunt. They’ve trained you well.”
I had the sudden urge to tell him that it didn’t have anything to do with my training. In Masculine Pleasure class they had taught us to clench and tighten so as to give more enjoyment to the men who used us. I hadn’t done any of that; the tightness Master Hendryk sensed came purely from my body’s reaction to his dominance.
I didn’t like it. He forced so much helpless pleasure on me, yes, that I couldn’t keep my limbs, my muscles, the surface of my skin, and above all my stiff nipples and my wet pussy from responding to him like the slut he called me. But I had thought that Master G had, with his careful teaching, dominance mingled with affection, taken me to the darkest place I needed to go.
I didn’twantto go further, and yet Master Hendryk’s hard manhood, seated so deeply and uncomfortably inside me, had me terribly close to a titanic climax I didn’t want. If I came, it would prove his power over me; I had never come for Master G so readily, so immediately.
My body shuddered as he began to withdraw his cock, the friction driving me closer to my orgasm.
“You’re going to come, aren’t you, you little slut?” he murmured. “And you’re trying not to, aren’t you?”
How did he know? How could he possibly know that? I supposed I might have expected Master G to grasp that, thanks to his own training and the Institute’s technology, but this man… he just had a lot of money, right?
No,a voice deep in my mind said,he understands you. His brutality responds to something in you just as your submission reacts to it.
The lie broke from my lips, because I couldn’t face the idea that my cruel new owner might actually have some insight into my needs.
“No, Master,” I sobbed. And then, he gripped my hair harder, pulled it sharply, and at the same time used his grip on the belt to drive his cock home again, invading me even further than the last full thrust. “No… please… sir…”
And then I came, utterly defeated by Master Hendryk’s rough skill, the sheer strength of his body dominating mine. I came harder than I ever had, even the first time Master G had fucked me in the foyer of the Institute’s mansion.
I felt like my whole body had turned into liquid gold. I felt my muscles straining against the straps, and the physical tension in them, as well as the knowledge that I couldn’t escape the massive cock that pounded into me, the tuxedo-clad lap that compressed the cruel cane welts… it made the orgasm go on and on, my vagina clenching over and over on my owner’s thrusting cock as he fucked me with all the brutality I had ever imagined a man could show to his sexual servant.
I cried out over and over, every thrust bringing another overwhelming surge of pleasure. Each time my master slammed his hips into my backside felt like another stroke of his ultimate, his most important implement of discipline. His clothed lap, his huge cock, seemed to remind me how hard and fast he had whipped me, and how easily he might whip me again.
