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He wasn’t far enough yet, not completely helpless to my charms, not at that point I sometimes brought him to when he forgot every rule that the Mansion had made me memorize. He wasn’t calling me baby yet, wasn’t saying my name. But I knew he would get there just as well as I knew the throbbing ache between my legs would be rewarded or punished with another orgasm.
“You can come as much as you want to…” He twirled a tendril of my highlighted hair between his fingers, smirking in my face. “But I don’t want to hear you speak again.”
Sometimes he was so unspeakably cruel I wanted to hate him for it, but not that day. That day, the hours of foreplay he’d put me through meant I was ripe and ready, desperate for him to give me what he’d been building inside my body.
“I’ll be quiet,” I whispered, and he laughed easily.
“You won’t just be quiet.” His finger slipped over my lips and I licked him tentatively. “You won’t make a fucking sound, little one. I don’t want to hear a whimper or a sob. I don’t want to hear you beg. I don’t even want you to fucking gasp. You got that?”
I raised my eyes to his and nodded wordlessly, and he patted my head.
“Good little girl,” he said, his fingers trailing down my back, over my ass, and into my asshole.
I was ready for it by then.
I’d been fucked, trained, touched and used by men and women alike, with Ellis always standing front and center, supervising, watching, making them use me any way he saw fit. He wasn’t the cruelest of them all, but he loved to torture me most. Not just in physical ways – Ellis loved to break me down systematically, attacking my senses, my mind, and my body. But my soul hadn’t broken yet, and I knew he was waiting for it, that moment when I finally came apart completely.
Yet there was still one last thing he hadn’t ripped away from me.
I was still a virgin.
He’d kept my pussy intact, never putting a toy or even his fingers inside me. With everything he and the others had done to me, I was grateful for the small mercy, at the same time terrified of it finally happening and eager to find out what it really felt like to be fucked.
“Let’s get started, then.” He got off the chair and walked over to the chest of toys in the corner of the room.
I’d gotten to know quite a few of them over the past few months. I wasn’t sure which one I craved most, but I knew which one I hated most.
And that was the one he picked that night, smirking at me when he saw the fear I tried so desperately to hide when he brought it out. He knew I realized, that it was exactly the one I’d been terrified of this whole time. Now, he was going to use it to make me break my promise and punish me accordingly.
“I can’t wait to break you,” he said as he approached me.
The dildo in his hands was enormous, twice the size of the ones I’d been forced to take regularly up my ass. It was studded with metal that always hurt when he put it inside me. But he’d only ever tried to push the head of it into my asshole or mouth. Never the whole thing. I shook in anticipation of what I knew he was going to say, what he was going to do.
“I wonder,” he muttered, his eyes almost manic. “What it will take to make that asshole rip…”
“Please,” I whispered and was rewarded by a swift slap to my face that sent me reeling.
He kneeled next to me.
Took my chin in his hands.
And told me something that would make me comply with every last demand he made.
He told me he would kill me if I didn’t follow his rules.
It was hours later. My throat was dry, my eyes straining because I’d tried so hard to keep my screams, moans and begging inside.
Ellis was getting tired of me, I could tell. He looked impatient as he paced the room in an effort to find something else to break me with. I had taken the monstrous toy, but even he had to stop when he realized he would inflict permanent damage if he didn’t slow down.
Now, he was eager to fuck me up more, and I was scared more than ever.
I was still tied up with the silk rope, the material now drenched in my own sweat. My pussy had drenched the ropes that held it open, and I was so embarrassed I could have cried because of that alone. Not because I was in pain, or tired, or because I wanted to come more. After twenty orgasms, they all blended into one painful fucking mess. But after he’d done that quickly, in less than half an hour, he’d forbidden me from coming again. So I was left stewing in quiet anger, with my pussy spasming and desperate to drench him. He wouldn’t let me, though. I was done coming, he’d said, done enjoying it. It was time for me to suffer.
