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“I’m sorry I spoke without permission, Master!”
He unchains my hands. I’m desperate to claw the nipple clamps off, but I know he’ll punish me again.
“Now kiss my feet.”
I bend down, frantic. If I’m too slow, he’ll punish me more. I kiss each of his shoes.
“Stand up.”
I scramble to my feet, staggering.
He removes each nipple clamp. “Thank you, Master, thank you,” I sob. Then my nipples start burning as if they’re on fire. “Oh God!” I scream, rubbing at them.
“That’s the worst part of nipple clamps,” he says gently. “The blood flow returning.”
He leads me over to a cabinet with a bowl of ice cubes sitting on top, and begins rubbing a couple of cubes over my nipples. My tortured flesh numbs, and the pain fades.
As he rubs, he growls, “Look into my eyes. Right into my eyes. I am your world, Tamara. I am your everything. Say I love you, Master.”
“I love you, Master.”
He keeps asking me. Making me say it, again and again.
He drops the ice, and now he’s just massaging my nipples with his fingers, so gently, and I don’t ever want him to stop. There’s a strange and terrible intimacy in staring straight into his eyes like that. The entire world vanishes, and only he exists.
“I love you, Master. I love you, Master. I love you, Master.” I say it until my voice is hoarse, and I don’t dare once think the thing that he forbade me to think.
He makes me say it more. Again and again. Hundreds of times, until my throat is raw.
And by the time he lets me stops saying it, I almost believe it.
CHAPTERTWELVE
JOSHUA
I’m sitting in my office, grasping my cock in my hands. God, I can’t wait to plunge it into her pussy. Her mouth is sweet, but I want more. I want to bury myself in her tight, wet heat and fuck her so hard that my bed slams into the wall. I want her screams to sing a song of ecstasy and agony in equal measure.
But not yet.
I stroke myself, and dark images flash through my mind, the way they always do.
The images are terrible, and they pollute my sexual encounters, forcing me back in time. They sicken me, and I can’t help myself.
Skinny girls chained to the wall, with hollow eyes and tattered dresses. Dad wouldn’t let us touch them, but we had to jerk off to them.
Thor was beaten to death because he couldn’t come that way. Our father screamed that no son of his was going to be a pussy. So they went outside into the ring of stones where we had all our blood battles, and my mother watched her husband beat her thirteen-year-old son to death in less than sixty seconds.
Watching my father with those girls sickened me. I don’t know if that shows that there’s a glimmer of normal in me, buried down deep.
But we had to show our father that we were real men. All those times I watched him ramming himself into them, choking them with his cock, while I was forced to pleasure myself… By the time I was in my teens, I couldn’t think of sex any other way. If a woman wasn’t twisting and screaming, I couldn’t get hard.
Watching him with those girls…that was when I finally began to question him. All that bullshit talk of being the ultimate apex predator. Taking those girls wasn’t the action of a predator. It was the action of an inadequate man who feared confronting a real challenge. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I had never seen my father take on an opponent who was a match for him in size or strength. He beat his wife, he beat his children, he beat up little girls he stole from their homes. Where was the honor in defeating such an opponent?
A faint uneasiness stirs inside of me when I think of Tamara. My bringing her here is different, I remind myself. Not just because she’s a woman rather than a girl. I took Tamara for her own good, so I wouldn’t have to kill her. My father, though, he took those girls because of the weakness in him.
The images of the crying girls swim behind my closed eyes as my hand moves up and down, gripping my cock. Usually, I replace the images with the picture of some random whore. Today I replace them with Tamara, imagining her bent over a bench and moaning, “Yes, Master,” and it’s surprising how good it makes me feel.
Thinking about her, I come in less than a minute.
