Limitations

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Ch. 1

[1833:27] <schell> I have no limits, please do as you want with me.

Written as it had been written it before. "I have no limits", He had seen it time and time again, didn't believe it before, and couldn't believe it now. Everyone had a limit, everyone had a point in which they could take no more.

[1833:56] <Archien> Right, I'm sure. Do you know how many times I've heard that before? Get lost, I only want real people, not your silly little fantasy world.

'At least she didn't use netspeak to say it', he thought, then closed the tab and continued browsing on the other monitor. He only got another page down before the soft pulse of IRC drew his attention back.

[1835:07] <schell> Try me, I'll please you anyway you want, Sir.

He smirked at the monitor and muttered, "Persistent, aren't you."

[1835:34] <Archien> Well, can you prove it? Would you have sex with any stranger you met on the street? Would you blow a donkey in front of 50 people? Would you have sex with your own child? Would you sacrifice your life purely for the amusement and pleasure of another?

'No', he thought, she might say she would, but no. To these people BDSM was just a fantasy online; a game to play in the evenings after work. He waited for a good minute or two, then returned to browsing, nearly forgetting about the IRC window.

[1841:18] <schell> yes...

For a moment he was surprised, the length of time it took her for that simple response. Then he shrugged it off and responded.

[1841:30] <Archien> Do you have a web cam?

[1841:41] <schell> No, sorry.

He once again smirked, then shot off a whois on her username. To his surprise she was local, at least within the same general region.

[1842:19] <Archien> Where do you live?

[1842:32] <schell> New York.

[1842:44] <Archien> No, I mean what is your Address?

[1847:23] <Archien> Hello?

[1847:23] No such nick/channel

He laughed again, closed the IRC tab, and went back to reading, forgetting about the stupid woman for the time being. No limits indeed.

Ch. 2

[2318:48] <schell> 31854 W. Forestham Ave, Yonkers, NY.

It was the next night, not one word had she sent him since logging off the night before. He stared at the address, then put it in to google maps to look up. There was no street view, but it was a residential address, not too far away as the crow flies from where he was in Queens. He sat back for a few seconds, debating in his mind. The worst that could happen is he wake some poor schlep in the middle of the night, should she have given the wrong address.

Or perhaps she was a he, and pretending to be a girl—but considering the danger involved with that, he doubted it. Not that he would complain to a little bit of male flesh either. Both sides of the park were equally enticing to him.

[2319:02] <Archien> Be nude.

That was all he wrote before getting up, grabbing his jacket, phone, wallet and keys. He was out the door, not once looking back to the computer. She had given her permission, an invitation, there was no chance now for her to take it back.

An hour later he stood outside a dark house, a single light on somewhere deep inside but it looked asleep. For a moment he stood out front on the porch, a broken bench off to one side, a dead plant on the other. Not very well maintained. At last he knocked, only three times, but loud and firm. He stood there, waiting, for maybe three or four minutes. Then he turned away and started back down the steps.

"What a waste of gas." He muttered to himself, then heard a soft click behind him. The door was unlocked, but no light was turned on. He returned to it and pulled the handle. It came open easily and before him he saw her with skin, pale in the moonlight. She trembled in obvious terror, her eyes wide and almost doe like as they stared at his chest. She didn't once meet his eyes, for fear or respect he couldn't tell.

"Good evening." He spoke softly to her and reached out. His fingers caressed along the line of her jaw and slid up to tangle in the hair behind her ear. It was an unruly mess of tight dun curls, a poof of brown hair sticking out around her mousy face. She seemed so familiar some how, like he had met her before, even those eyes hidden behind coke bottle glasses. She would win no beauty prizes but she wasn't hard to look at either. Especially so—naked in the moon light.

At last she spoke, her voice a soft squeak of sound, "Good evening Master" she said.

He frowned at this, the gears in his mind whirling, then he took the dominant role at last and struck her open palmed across the face while holding her head in place by the hair. He pulled her head back then and stared down in to her eyes forcing her to meet his gaze. "No." He said sharply, but a soft smile on his face, "I did not give you permission to use that term. I am not your Master, this is not some game you play."

One of her hands came to her burning cheek, tears welled up in her eyes from the sting, humiliation, and fear, "Yes—Sir?" She said hesitantly.

He nodded, satisfied with that, then took another step in the door and closed it behind him. For a moment he fumbled around in the dark until he found a light switch, illuminating a messy hallway and his quarry. The carpet was stained near the door, but freshly vacuumed. There were stacks of magazines, books, and other random clutter all over, leaving only a small path to lead from front door to living room.

"You live in this stye?" He asked, gazing about, then back down to her. She was short, maybe 5'3" at best. She peered up at him with hazel eyes, her button nose wrinkled up, slightly red and tear stained.

"Yes Sir, this is my home. I am sorry if the mess offends you." She spoke in a hurried voice, slightly panicked and reached for a pile as if to clean the mess immediately.

"No, that can wait. Kneel." He ordered, releasing her hair at last.

She did as bidden, bowing her head in the process and staring at his boots. He reached down and unzipped his fly slowly. She tensed before him and the fine shoulders and back hairs stood on end as flesh goose-bumped.

Her head lifted slightly, eyes rising to his groin as he withdrew his flaccid member. Pale wrinkled flesh, slightly sticky with sweat in his jeans. Her head leaned forward and she reached for his member with her tongue, making as if to pleasure him. But he struck her once more with his free hand, knocking her almost off balance, "I did not give you permission to pleasure me either. You have not earned the right to serve me. " He told her, making it sound as stern and proper as he could though most of this was new territory to him. Part of him wanted to let her, but another part, a vicious little core had more interesting ideas.

The tears flowed freely down her face now, her breath coming in little sobs which she tried to suppress as best she could. Watching her like this, offering of herself but being denied. It simply excited him, which was evident as his member perked some, swelling before her tear filled eyes. But pleasure was not what he was here for, at least not right now. The head of his penis swelled sharply, a moment before pungent urine gushed over her face. He guided the stream up and down, washing her face, throat and chest in his acrid stench. Then up again, across her tightly closed mouth, up her nose, and in to her scrunched eyes. Then higher, matting down her hair, then letting the stream run down her spine.

She choked and gagged, gasping for breath then coughing as the urine trickled down the back of her throat from her nose. He aimed lower to land in her open mouth. She turned away but the taste was there, disgusting and humiliating. The last trickle splattered off her thighs as he shook himself dry, then wiped himself in to a dry patch of hair, "Stay." He told her, and walked past, careful not to step in the soaking puddle in the carpet.

Room by room he explored her home. It wasn't much better than the entryway, no real filth anywhere, but clutter and dust. He found her bedroom, two baskets for laundry, one clean, one dirty. From the clean he claimed a memento, a simple pair of black panties fairly new but already slightly stretched and worn. He placed them in a pocket then returned to the entry way where he found her bent over, curled in on herself crying.

"You may not wash yourself clean until the sun has risen again. Until then you will wear my mark, until you are deeply familiar with the scent. When I return I expect nothing on the floor except furniture. Everything should be clean and organized. I don't care what you do with your stuff. Donate it, sell it, trash it, store it. But I expect your house to be in proper order. And then we shall see about you." He told her, to her back. She could see the muscles of her shoulders bunching up. He wondered what she had expected, to be swept up in to some guy's arms and fucked until exhausted?

It didn't matter though, she had chosen her lot, and with a hoarse "Yes Sir." she gave her consent, surrendering her care to his hands. Privately he wondered just what he was going to do with her.

Ch. 3

He gave her a week, Saying nothing to her online, though spotting her on once or twice, lurking outside of channels. He was even notified that she whoised him three times, but didn't once say a word to him. At last, on a Friday night shortly past 9pm he returned. He didn't knock this time, he only opened the front door and walked in. The house was lit, and in much better order. Even the broken bench and dead plant on the porch were gone.

Coats were hung in the hallway closet, not a single stack of magazines, or pile of nicknacks cluttered the floor. Quietly he made his way through her home, looking from room to room, nodding his head. He even gave it the old "white glove" treatment, finding no dust on the mantle or bookshelf. Her kitchen was clean, light fixture replaced with one that worked right. Upstairs he found the bathroom door closed and the sound of a shower going. So with quiet care he found his way in to her room, to her computer, and plugged a USB flash drive in. Three clicks and he installed a key logger and SSH service. Then closed out the windows and removed the drive.

Quietly he opened the bathroom door. He could see her silhouette through the nylon shower curtain. He reached over and pulled the curtain open to see her startled naked form. "Sir!" She exclaimed, then dropped to her knees immediately. Her chest rose and fell rapidly and he could almost see the beat of her heart as adrenaline flooded her system.

"You did a good job with the house." He told her, smiling warmly. Then he reached over and turned off the shower.

"T-thank you Sir." She said with a little tremble, then mumbled, "I still need to wash my hair."

"No, I have a better idea." He told her, then reached down to take her hand and draw her to her feet, "I am going to cut it off."

There were obvious contesting emotions behind her eyes, anger, fear, denial, obedience, and at last acquiescence, "Yes—Sir." She said sadly.

He rummaged about the bathroom for a moment, until he located a pair of scissors in a cabinet, then sat her down on the toilet and began to pluck at her damp heavy hair, "I'm no stylist, but I used to cut my younger brother's hair when we were kids. I won't do a hack job." he reassured her, then began to cut great clumps of it off, rather counter to his words.

Her eyes were downcast, staring with blurred vision at the growing pile of clippings. She didn't cry this night though, she only sat still and quiet, obedient. Snick after snick he removed nearly all of it. Leaving her with a slightly long crew cut, just long enough at the back and top for him to grip. She didn't look bad, rather like she was ready to go to a gay bar, but better than before. Then he sat back to admire his work, "Alright, clean up the hair from the floor, and shower again." He ordered and walked out.

Downstairs he browsed her collection of books. Sci-fi, fantasy, some horror. The shower started again, but was short lived. At last she came down stairs, still naked, but mostly toweled dry. He was sitting back in a recliner, book in hand. It was a well dogeared book, one obviously read many times, something called Kushiel's Dart, "At least you aren't reading those dreadful books of Gor." He told her, setting the novel aside, "Do you mind if I borrow this?"

"As you wish, Sir" She said politely, then made her way to the front of the chair. All the curtains were closed, but they were only sheer, anyone who looked hard enough could have seen her naked body. She stared down at him, a sort of iron in her spine, nearly belligerence, but it never bubbled forth, she was only polite to him.

He reached a hand up to her, in offering. She took it and he drew her closer, to the side of the chair. Her hand was smooth and soft. Small fingers with chewed on nails. She was a worrier it seemed, and it looked like she had chewed them to the quick over the past week. He looked over her body, her pelvis at level with his chest. She was clean shaven between the legs, but he would have none of that, "I don't mind if you groom, but I don't want you to look like a child." He told her, and reached his other hand up to cup the front of her pubic mound.

She blushed, deeply and caught a lip between her teeth, "I'm sorry..." She whispered. Her hips pressed forward slightly, in to his touch, then pulled away, obviously torn.

"Don't be sorry, just do as bidden when it is ordered. And remember." He caressed between her legs and pushed his hand further between. Her thighs parted, a foot stepped slid outward. Her inner labia peeked out unevenly between the plump goose-fleshed outer labia. He pinched one and tugged at it, his eyes upon her belly as he did. He watched her stomach clench and roll slightly, muscles deep inside twisting up as he played with her.

Then he drew his hand down, just the barest touch of his fingertips, raising a shiver from her as hair stood on end. When his fingertips brushed behind her knee, she nearly collapsed, squirming slightly, "Please... I'm ticklish." She told him.

"Please what? Please continue? Please stop?" He asked, but she was mute on the subject. "I asked you a question, please what?"

She clenched her jaw and squared herself off to him, then said, "Please don't tease me."

"Oh? Why not?" He asked and tickled behind the other knee, making her leg buckle slightly, both knees coming to rest against the chair and parting.

She squeaked and screwed up her face, then said quietly, "Please do what you like to me, Sir. I am yours."

His hand withdrew then folded with the other behind his head. He leaned back in the recliner, letting the leg rest come out, "No, you aren't. I have not claimed you. You are nothing to me yet but a potential amusement. When you are no longer amusing I may just discard you like a wad of toilet paper. Speaking of which..." he trailed off, then reached down again to unzip his jeans.

"Sir No!" She exclaimed, then softly added, "Not on my chair." Her eyes pleaded with him.

"Then you had better not spill a drop, hmm?" He prompted, semi erect penis in hand. He motioned it toward her and she trembled a little.

"My—mouth Sir?" She asked and he nodded. Her eyes closed and she dropped down to her knees, shifting around to the front of the chair and leaned over it. Her warm lips folded over the head of his length and her soft tongue touched the underside. She tightened her mouth on him, and waited, quietly. After a moment her eyes opened and peered up at him, her cheeks flushed with humiliation and arousal.

"You aren't very experienced with this, are you bitch?" He commented, then reached down in to her short hair and gripped. Then with a grunt he thrust her face down in to his crotch. His head hit the back of her throat, gagging her, which caused her to retch and choke. But he held her there, for a long moment, cutting off her air in the process. When at last he let her up, she gasped, open mouthed. "Are you ready to try again?" He asked.

She nodded, then gasped out, "Yes Sir." Her mouth closed again on him and began to nurse, like a child at a nipple she pulled at the head of his penis. He watched her, a smile at his lips as she satisfied herself more than he. Minutes passed with only the sticky sounds of her mouth as she worked over him. She swallowed, choked, sucked, licked, and even occasionally bit at him. But not once did he give her any encouragement or discourage her. His hands folded behind his head, his eyes closed, and he lost himself in to the warm moist pleasure of her mouth.

Time passed, his member grew flaccid and numb, but still she suckled at it, not once complaining. Nor did he orgasm, she was obviously unskilled and he didn't cum easy to begin with. When the wall clock struck midnight he had been over an hour in her mouth. At last he lifted her head. She looked sore and exhausted, her jaw hung loose, lips swollen and bruised. He smiled to her and said quietly, "You will get better." She nodded mutely.

She sat back on her heels, then stretched. He could hear her spine popping and knees cracking. He motioned her to stand and she did, wobbling slightly. Her knees were raw, one actually torn a little, flecked with dried blood. The carpet wasn't kind to her. However her thighs were sticky, wetness leaking from her swollen and slightly parted labia. He could smell her in the air, especially standing so close to him.

With a sigh he sat up then told her, "Until I order you too, you are not allowed to masturbate. However, I would like to know what porn you enjoy, if any?"

She bowed her head slightly and turned toward the stair well, "It's... er, it is on my computer Sir, in my bedroom."

"Lead the way, bitch." He said brightly, and climbed to his feet. Her spine straightened a little at the last word and she made her way upstairs.

For the most part it was tame and ordinary, common BDSM themes, people tied up, nothing that really piqued his interest. He began to wonder why she had even claimed to have no limits, "Is this the extent of your fantasy?" He asked.

"No Sir." She said, squirming a little in her seat. She opened another folder, this one labeled DD. Inside was obvious incest, "daddy and daughter" apparently.

"A little more interesting, but still fairly common. You claimed to have no limits, but all I see is the extent of your fantasy is quite nearsighted." He told her, amused.

This time she pulled open the browser and went to a favorite, an erotic story archive. She brought up more examples, snuff, torture, bestiality. Many of which were simply impossible or pure fantasy. Most people would never have the chance for instance, to be impaled on a dragon's penis, and die drowning from the inside out, in near boiling hot semen. Nor would they have the chance to be abducted by aliens and used as an incubation chamber for the rest of their short painful lives.

She explained her favorite stories, one by one, never looking at him. She trembled a little as his hand touched her naked shoulder. Her flesh was warm to the touch, a pink flush from her face to her breast, "Keep reading them, every day. But as I said no masturbation. No orgasm at all."

She nodded her head, but didn't respond at first, then after a while she looked up, swollen bottom lip sticking out a little, "Sir... Did I please you?" She asked. In her face he saw a deep vulnerability, a need for purpose and direction.

Tenderly he cupped her cheek. His thumb brushed along side her nose and under her eye, knocking her glasses askew. He corrected them, then nodded, "Yes bitch."

She smiled back to him and asked, "Will you keep me?"

For a long moment he was quiet, searching her eyes, "If I do decide to claim you as mine. It will be for life. You will never again know freedom, you will never again know any choice but which I order you to make. Nothing in your life will be yours, no secret, no privacy, no money, no possession. Everything you are, could be, or will be, will belong to me. You will be a slave in the true meaning of the word. Human property, little more than a farm animal, cared for, fed, and used. You will be taken for granted, you will not be thanked, you will be used. And then some day you will die after a life of servitude."

He watched his words sink in to her, he watched the fear and longing in her grow. The concept terrified her, but at the same time excited and aroused her, "Will I..." She started, then continued after a swallow, "Will you give me a choice? Can I say no if you decide?"

"Of course you may say no, once. The first and last choice you will get. If you say no, you will never see me again and I will forget about you. You will be free." He told her, smiling.

She nodded in response, "Thank you Sir." She looked back toward her computer, then to him again and asked, "Are you hungry?"

"No, thank you." He said it as a counterpoint to his prior words, then stood up. "I have work in the morning."

"Is there anything you want for next time, Sir?" She prompted.

"No." He told her, and left. The scent of her heat still in his nose.

Ch. 4

A month passed in which he didn't come to see her. He spied on her computer usage however and learned many things, surprising things, even exciting things. At first it was minimal, checking email, getting in touch with friends and family. He felt a little thrill as she spoke to her mother of something happening, something she couldn't talk about, but something wonderful. But after two weeks she returned to IRC, poking her nose in channels again, even going so far as to talk to a dominant or two. But her conversations to them seemed pale imitations... or so she told a close friend of hers later that night.

She continued reading her erotica, going in to darker and darker territory as the days progressed. Soon she was even reading things he found a little distasteful.

Another week down and she seemed nervous and confused. She told friends she didn't feel well, avoided deep conversations and deflected worried questions. Then shortly after she told a friend good night, he decided to pay her another visit. He waited outside her house until well after her lights had gone out, it was nearly 3 am on a Sunday morning. At last he entered her home, made his way to her bedroom, and found her asleep.

She looked peaceful, eyes closed, cheek illuminated by the waning moonlight. For hours he sat there, just watching her sleep. Occasionally when she was deep in dream he touched her, only just the barest touch. A hand under the covers or along her shorn hair. When the sun finally started to rise he wrote a note and left it on her keyboard.

"I wanted to know who you were when all defenses were down. I wanted to see your true face, drooling on the pillow. I find you more beautiful now, in the honesty of the unconscious mind than I remember."

~Archien

Then, quietly he left. Leaving only his words as evidence of his invasion.

As he spied on her, her words were calmer, more collected. She was excited again, hopeful. He watched her for another week, until she went to bed Friday night. This time when he entered her home, he shut the door loudly and walked firmly up the stairs. He found her in bed, covers pulled up, eyes glinting in the dark.

"Sir?" She asked, slightly afraid.

"Yes bitch." He told her and sat down at her side.

"I missed you." She whispered, then reached out to him, "You are like some secret demon who comes to me at night, leaving only a memory of you to torment my days."

The thought of that intrigued him and he grinned, teeth shining brightly in the dark, "Interesting." He told her, then took her in to his arms, letting her cling to his chest. Her face pressed against his breast bone and fingers dug in to his shoulder blades. 'A demon' he thought, and grinned still, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

He could smell her strong musky scent, she had just finished reading another disturbing tale before going to bed, "Have you been masturbating, Bitch?" he asked.

"No Sir, I'm a good girl, I do what I am told." She said, with an almost child like voice in to his chest.

When he withdrew, she clung to him still, but he pushed her back to the bed. She looked up at him, a curious smile on her face. She seemed so open and trusting, part of him wanted to break her trust, a large part of him.

He turned away and reached in to his backpack, withdrawing a ring gag, cuffs and a few pieces of short rope, "Tonight I am going to hurt you bitch. I will try not to damage you, but I make no promises. Do you surrender to me for the duration?" He asked as he turned back. That trust in her eyes was still there but clouded by an edge of fear.

She chewed her lip as she looked up at him, then nodded, "Yes Sir."

Piece by piece he bound her, cuffs, rope, even a sack hood which he cinched closed with a collar. Once she was helpless, blind, half deaf, and gagged with ring and cloth, he began. Her flesh bruised easily, her breasts first. His fists struck leaving prints of his fingers and knuckles. He slapped and pinched, twisted and scratched. Working from chest to stomach then between her legs. He was careful not to hit too hard, not to damage her, but skin eventually tore, blood leaked, and ever did she cry.

If she had not been gagged the neighbors might have called the police. Then once her front was red purple and scratched all over, he rolled her over. Her face in to the pillow, her knees spread open and ankles bound. He loosened the bindings that held wrists to ankles, then bound her legs to the foot of the bed.

Again he started in on her upper torso, beating about her ribs and shoulders, avoiding her spine and kidneys. After a while he undid his belt and folded it over. With that he left mark after mark on her thighs and rump, some of the strikes hard enough to split skin. She screeched and squirmed, bucked and struggled, but as firmly bound as she was, there was nothing she could do to escape him.

Once more he rolled her over and forced her legs apart and held them open with his knees. From there he began to whip over her mound until it too bled from three or four splits in her labia. Then he moved lower, to the bottoms of her feet. Nothing had made her cry out as much as this as he whipped her feet. She struggled so hard that he had to sit on her legs to keep her from moving the bed around.

As the sun rose he was finished. For a few minutes he stood, watching her body shudder and shift. She had more bruise than clean flesh. He inspected her bindings, making sure nothing was cutting in or cutting off blood flow, then he pulled a blanket up over her and let her fall asleep, still bound.

Ch. 5

It was late afternoon when she woke again. He had removed the hood hours before, as well as the cloth gag, so she could breathe properly in her sleep. But he left the ring gag in and bondage on. As her eyes fluttered open she mumbled something then whimpered as her body moved. Her muscles would be very sore for the next few days. While she slept he had tended to her wounds, cleaning and bandaging them.

"Are you thirsty?" He asked and she nodded. He lifted her head and brought a cup to her lips, then poured it through the ring that held her mouth open. She choked and tried to pull away but he held her in place, "Drink, bitch." he commanded. Not ten minutes before waking her, he had filled the mug with his piss.

Her face scrunched up, her belly heaved, but at last she drank. Small swallow after small swallow she emptied the mug. When she was done, he removed the gag, grinning down at her glare. With her mouth free she asked, "Why did you make me drink that?"

"Because you hate it." He told her, then laid her back to the bed. She didn't know what to say to that but by the look on her face, it left her thoughtful. He added, "You did it though, for me. So I am satisfied."

"Yes Sir." She said quietly, then closed her eyes and curled up some. She was still bound by her ankles to the bed and her wrists were still cuffed behind her back.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, but at her horrified expression he added, "No, no... I was thinking bacon and eggs. You may not have limits, but I do." With that he helped her out of bed and took her to the kitchen.

She knelt on the kitchen floor at his side while he cooked, her wrists still bound. She still shook occasionally and her body was more black and blue than pink, but for the most part she was healthy.

"How do you like your eggs?" He asked.

"Fertilized." She responded with a playful grin.

"Oh, I see—Well I suppose I could masturbate in to the eggs before cooking them..." He responded, acting perfectly honest. At her expression he chuckled, "No? Scrambled semen doesn't sound particularly appetizing I suppose."

"Over hard, please Sir." She said, then added, "I was only joking. I'm not sure I want kids."

"Not that you would have a choice in the matter, bitch. And when I say bitch, I mean it in the most bestial way. You are a beast to be bred like a bitch. If I choose to impregnate you, it will be my choice of who's seed... or what's seed... fills your womb. Nor when it happens or what happens to the children. Do you understand?" He said it in a harsh tone as he cracked an egg in to the pan. The bacon already sizzling away.

"I understand Sir." She replied, looking a little pale and scared. He could see her stomach clench as she said it, "My womb will be filled should you desire it. It is not for me to decide what you use me for."

"Good Bitch." He told her, and watched a blush creep up her cheeks as he put emphasis upon the word. "You blush so easily." He commented, then flipped an egg. She only nodded and turned her head to the floor, but he could see her pink ears.

When the food was done, he served up a single plate and set it at the table. She started to rise but he smacked her shoulder with the hot butter stained spatula and pointed to the floor, "Stay." He ordered Three strips of bacon and two eggs were then scooped out of the pan and landed on the floor between them, "that is your place, now you may eat. I do hope you kept up with your cleaning."

She stared at the food, not moving an inch, not looking up. Her shoulders were clenched and hands bunched in to fists. It looked almost as if she wanted to fight back, to reject his will. But then her flesh softened and she leaned down. She fell on to her side carefully and rolled over, trying to prop herself up and eat. He left the bacon a bit chewy on purpose, and grinned a little as he watched her worry at a piece, trying to bite it in half.

He sat down and began to eat. The house was silent but for the sound of smacking lips and the scrape of fork on plate. When he was done he sat and watched her, she had gotten the knack of eating without her hands, and seemed to not mind that she was licking egg from the floor. Part of him found it rather gross, but another part was adoring her for it.

"How do you feel after last night? Emotionally I mean." He asked, wondering.

She glanced up, licked a bit of egg from her lip, swallowed, then said quietly, "It was horrible. I can't remember anything so painful." She paused to swallow then added, "Nor have I ever felt so helpless." He only nodded in response and watched her, waiting. After a while she continued, "I surrendered to you, everything, and I would do it again. I'm terrified you will hurt me more, but I want to please you, I want to be everything you want me to be."

"And what if I want to keep torturing you? I have ideas, knives, fire, and other such things..." He trailed off, as an idea sparked in the back of his mind.

"Then Sir, I will suffer for you." She said it with a tremble but kept her eyes on his; honest, afraid and longing.

He stood and made his way to the cupboard to search. When he found what he was looking for he tucked it in a back pocket and returned to her and knelt at her side, "Then perhaps you should suffer a bit more, hmm? Spread your legs bitch." he ordered.

She obediently parted her legs for him and lifted her rear up some, "Yes Sir." She whispered while worrying at a lip.

He could see the pink pucker of her anus and the entrance of her vagina through her parted labia. He smiled to himself and reached down, gripped her mound, and lifted a bit more. Her entrance spread a little further against his palm, showing everything, including tiny clit that peeked between her folds. He reached back and withdrew the bottle he had grabbed, labeled Mad Dog. The bottle promised to be extremely spicy. He twisted the cap off with one hand, then began to dribble the contents over her anus and down the cleft of her sex, "I learned years ago, that capsaicin is mostly harmless, it just burns fiercely by stimulating certain nerve endings that respond to pain. In fact it can be good for you to stimulate those nerves."

There was a soft gasp that issued from her, then she looked back with wide eyes. Her mouth hung agape as the pain set in to her abdomen, "Oh gods..." She muttered as she saw which bottle was in his hand.

He held her in place as she began to squirm and cry. Her body began to react, swelling labia, trembling stomach muscles, bucking rump as if some how she could toss off the pain. After the sauce began to dry a little, he let go and stood up, figuring enough of it had seeped in through her skin that she would have a while of suffering yet, "I am going to leave shortly now bitch, but I have a new order for you. Every night when you read your erotic stories. I want you to apply a little of that sauce to your sex." He grinned to himself. He hoped he could train her mind to associate the sexual pain with the erotic imagery in her stories. After that he collected his stuff, uncuffed her, and left without another word.

Ch. 6

Twice he stole away to her home, to watch her sleep. On the second time though she woke to find him sitting there. She wasn't startled or afraid, instead she was quite happy to see him. It had been 3 weeks since his last announced visit.

"Good Morning Sir." She said sleepily. She was curled in to a ball in her bed and looked absolutely adorable to him.

"Good Morning." He replied, then leaned over and pressed an affectionate kiss to her brow, "I'm sorry for waking you, I know you have work today."

She leaned in to his kiss and shivered at the tickle of his beard on her face, "That's alright Sir." She smiled up at him, then asked, "Do you have a use for me?"

His hand caressed her cheek, neck, then down her naked body, pulling the blanket back to expose her. He had no plans for tonight, nothing he wanted to do to her, he just wanted to be close, wanted to see her and think. But as she offered to him, as she lay there, groggy and so very warm, he nodded.

She shifted slightly and reached for him, he let her. Her hands undid his belt and jeans, found his member and woke it with a gentle caress. He leaned forward and over her, a hand on her hip, the other on her pillow. She shifted further and let her head over the edge of the bed as her hands squeezed and milked his growing erection. He took her then sharply, that awaiting mouth he impaled until he struck the back of her throat and continued. His shaft bent a little, her neck arched, and suddenly he was down her throat.

She struggled for breath under him, struggled not to gag as he fucked her mouth. His hips thrust and she choked out a sob for breath. Both of his hands found her thighs and held her down, letting himself come to a rest on top of him. He bucked and she swallowed, trapped as she was there was little else she could do. His thighs closed on the sides of her head, his balls draped over her eyes and nose. She could barely breathe and every breath was filled with the taste and smell of his sweat, his penis, him.

He let up every so often to give her a chance to catch her breath, then continued again. After only a little while he could smell her again. Below him she began to leak arousal on to the bed sheets. This time he couldn't last, this time the warm caress of her tongue, the hungry swallows, and her sweet musk drove him over his peak. With a sudden jerk, breath held caught in his throat, he came. His semen rushed in to her throat and mouth, filling her with his taste at last.

At last his breath returned and he withdrew from her. She gasped, swallowed, then gasped again, gulping down air. But though she was half drowned, she smiled, pleased, up at him, "Thank you Sir... I will cherish the gift of your taste all day." She told him then licked drool and semen from her lips.

He sat down and watched as she prepared for her day. Watched her as she came out of the shower, watched as she dressed, watched as she put on her makeup. She didn't seem at all self conscious as she went about her routine under his scrutiny, "When did you accept my presence in your life?" He asked before she left.

She turned to him as she pulled up her slacks, "I don't know, Sir. But the demon who haunts my nights doesn't seem so bad in the day light. In fact I kind of find it comforting when I know you have been there, watching over me."

"I think I want to keep you." He told her, and reached out, taking her hand in his, "I don't know for sure yet, but I am leaning towards asking you to surrender to me for good."

She squeezed his hand a moment, but a brief worry crossed behind her eyes, she looked off toward the clock, then back, "I.. I don't know what my answer would be Sir. You still scare the living shit out of me some times, you know? It's one thing to have a demon haunt you at night..." She paused, then withdrew her hand, "I need to go or I'll be late."

He nodded and waved her off, "I'll let myself out."

Ch. 7

I don't know what to do mom, I'm in a relationship, I think. I'm kinda scared, its serious and so wonderful, but also so strange and scary at the same time. He sees me in a way no one ever has before. He treats me exactly how I want to be treated... but then he wants so much more, he expects so much of me. I don't think I can do it, I don't think I can live up to his expectations. And I haven't told anyone else about it, I'm afraid to, because I'm afraid he might leave if others found out. I just don't know what to do mom. I felt so alone before he came to me, I don't want to be alone again.

He read that letter and frowned, she had seemed so confident the last time he had been there. He would have to do something about it.

That night he entered her home again, found her getting ready for bed. She jumped a little when his arms encircled her half naked body. His lips found the back of her neck and bit down, holding her in place. She melted in to him and reached back with trembling fingers that tangled in his hair, "Sir..." she breathed out and pressed her rear in to his lap.

He released her flesh and laid his prickly chin to her shoulder, "I wanted to have you tonight." He told her, and she could feel his maleness rising against her spine.

She pressed back in to it, letting that hardness burrow in to the flesh of her back, "You can have anything you want of me, Sir, when ever you want."

He kissed again at the base of her neck and felt her goose-bumps rise as a shiver ran down her spine. Then he pulled away and let her finish undressing under his scrutiny, "I know, bitch." He told her as he watched.

"What do you want to have from me tonight Sir? Am I to suffer again? Or do you want the pleasure of my lips?" She had a teasing smile on her face as she stood before him, nude and beautiful to him. The downy tuft of hair over her pubis glistened slightly in the lamp light, already damp from his nearness.

Slowly, with his eyes locked on hers, he undressed. His penis bobbed free of its tight confines, she dropped to her knees and offered her mouth to it. He laid it to her lips, and allowed her to please him as he continued to undress, shirt, boots, pants, tossed to the floor. His hands laced in to her cropped hair and pulled her face in to his lap, hugging her to him as he slid down her throat. She choked softly, muffled by his lap, then relaxed.

He savored her mouth for only a moment more before withdrawing and saying, "No, tonight I want more. It has been nearly three months since I first came to you, there are few parts of you left that I have not possessed."

Still on her knees, she gazed up at him and nodded, "As you wish Sir, I would have given my virtue to you the first night, had you demanded it."

He cocked an eyebrow and peered down at her, "You're a virgin?" He asked, startled.

"Yes Sir, just never really met the right person, you know?" She said, looking some what embarrassed.

"Damn—I'll have to be gentle with you then, I didn't realize..." He muttered.

She shook her head sharply, "You don't have to be anything, hurt me, rip me, anything... please Sir, I love you." Her hands came to her lips as she said it, looking uneasy and surprised.

His expression softened and his hands cupped her cheeks, "I know bitch, I know." He stared at her, quietly, for a while, then drew her to her feet.

"I don't have a hymen though Sir, took that long ago with a toy." She told him, flushing.

"Well there is that." He sighed as he leaned in toward her. He kissed her then, fully, tongue dancing out to tease along her teeth. She was minty, freshly brushed, he likely tasted of cigar. His hands lowered, one to her throat the other to grip at her hip. Once more his penis came alive after being forgotten.

They tottered back, toward the bed, and he laid himself to her, belly to belly, mouth to mouth. Her flesh surrendered to his, soft and pliable under his touch. Her mouth opened, her legs parted, her hips lifted. But he pulled away for a moment, gazing down in to her eyes. His hand at her throat shifted slightly, as if to strangle her. She didn't resist, didn't even fear.

When he penetrated her, it was difficult. She was rather tight, especially so since she hadn't masturbated in over a month. Her mouth gaped as a whimper of pain escaped, but he captured it with another kiss. Inch by inch he penetrated her for the first time. Inch by inch she surrendered to him. Deep within her heart fluttered and womb clenched with excitement.

His grip tightened on her throat, squeezing hard enough to cut off her cries. When he bottomed out within her at last he stilled, letting her vagina relax about his girth, "How do you feel, my bitch?" He asked after loosening his grip.

"Complete." She gasped out as she clung to him. He laughed quietly, which drew a frown from her, "What's so funny?" She demanded.

"You are, bitch." He told her, then pulled his length out again, distracting any thought she might have had as a moan was ripped from her throat. He began to take her in earnest then, thrusting hard in to her belly with sharp jabs. He bruised her pelvis, crushing her labia against her pubic bone. He bruised her cervix, slamming in to it every so often with the head of his phallus. He controlled her, holding her by the hips, not letting her thrust back to him, only allowing her to take him, passively. He contorted her, pinning her legs against her body, until she felt as if her hips would be pulled from their sockets. All the while he fucked her brutally, he stared in to her eyes, not letting her look away.

When he grew close, when he felt himself beginning to fall over that edge, he reached up once more and closed his fists about her throat and squeezed until she couldn't breathe. He squeezed until her lips bulged, swollen, he squeezed until her eyes became unfocused. He squeezed until her body jerked and shuddered with need for oxygen. He squeezed down upon her until her trembling sex milked his semen from him, until his silent shuddering orgasm blew the senses from his mind and he emptied himself in to her. He surrendered all his energy, all his aggression, and all his power in that moment, swallowed up in her warm infinite embrace.

The last shudder of orgasm subsided and he once again gazed upon her to see her swollen lips and blank face. He released her throat and for a moment she didn't move. But then she gasped and arched against him. Her sex clamped down on the base of his penis and practically swallowed it as her whole body tensed and trembled.

She looked up at him with both fear and love, then whispered, "I thought you were going to kill me." Then she began to cry.

His fist tangled in her hair and pressed her face in to his chest, cradling her tight, "No, not tonight. Maybe some day but not tonight." He told her as he rocked her under him. She took no reassurance from his words though and just continued to cry and cling to him.

They made love twice more before he was finished with her. And before he left that night, she asked him, "What if I get pregnant?"

His hand reached out to her, touching her stomach just below her navel, "I do not yet own you, your body is your own to do with as you see fit."

Ch. 8

It was Christmas eve, a month later when he finally made his decision, "Bitch, come here and kneel." He told her from the recliner.

She did as bidden, dropping to her knees at his side and leaning against the arm of the chair, "Yes Sir?"

"I've finally decided." He said, then reached down in to his shirt pocket and withdrew a fine platinum chain with a locking clasp, laid out in a jewelry case, "Will you surrender yourself to me? Will you be my slave?" he asked of her as he held the case out.

She looked at him, a little like a deer in a headlights, just as she looked when they first met, "Sir..." she started, then trailed off, her hand laying on the box, "May I think it over?"

"You may, bitch, but only until Christmas morning." He told her, and smiled brightly, "Now come, show me what you've learned to do with those Kegal muscles..."

Early Christmas morning he woke in her bed to find it empty. He heard the soft tick and clack of a keyboard and the room was lit only by that blue-white LCD glow. For a while he listened to her type away, listened to her rapid breaths, listened to her occasional sniffles. He glanced over once, and could see light glistening off her tear stained cheeks, "What is it?" He asked at last.

"You never told me your name." She said, quietly, hands stilling on the keys, "I peeked in your wallet while you were asleep, saw your ID."

"Oh." Was all he said, and sat up, nude, at the edge of the bed.

"Yeah... Oh." She retorted while glaring at the screen, "You knew. You knew and you just took me to bed. I could have gotten pregnant!"

"I had hoped you would." He replied, calmly, then scratched the stubble on his chin, "It doesn't change anything. And any way, I haven't seen you since you were three years old."

"Get out." She hissed, fists clenching against the keyboard. At last her head turned, "I said get out."

"No." He replied and stood.

"I made my decision, the answer is No, now get out." She insisted, though the look on her face had turned from anger to fear.

"No." He repeated and stepped forward. His hand cupped her cheek but she twisted away. So instead his fist curled in her hair and dragged her head back around, "You are unique to me, I have only one daughter and I'm not letting you go."

She cried out in pain and reached back to clasp at his fist. Her body arched a little, in an attempt to pull away from him, but he held her fast, "Please... You promised." She begged as sobs started to shake her frame.

He said no more as he threw her back to the bed and climbed on top. His morning erection prodded at her belly and smeared her with pre-cum. Once more his fist closed on her throat and held her to the bed, once more he took what he wanted from her. This time she closed her legs, this time she tried to resist him. He simply pinned her knees together at her chest, and sank himself home in her warm tight folds.

Helpless as she was raped, she cried with each strangled gasp. He looked upon her, alien and unfathomable. Once only a day before she thought she knew him, but now he was something new, something foreign, invading her body where once he was welcome. He saw this in her as she looked back, and grinned a vicious grin, "Good girl, now you know where you belong." And in her eyes he saw the truth, she did know.

With that truth he saw, he felt her shudder under him. Her body writhed about and lifted once more to his powerful thrusts. He felt her depths clench on him and milk him so deliciously. It only took a moment of this to drive him to his peak as well, and empty his morning seed in to his daughter's womb. Sated; he laid himself between her thighs and released her throat. His lips found hers and she returned the tear stained kiss, timid and trembling.

"Yes daddy." She whispered, voice hoarse and quiet.

"No." He told her, then added, "Yes Master."

"Yes Master." She replied, then turned her face away, in to the pillow, and sobbed.

"Good bitch." He whispered and pet through her hair as if she were a kitten, "Good." He stayed within her until his penis went fully flaccid, then at last rolled off and went to get a shower.

When the bathroom door opened he was in the middle of washing his hair. Suds in his eyes he could only hear her step in, "Bitch?" He asked.

"Yes Master." She said calmly. "I will only repeat this one last time. Get out." She told him in that same calm, cold tone.

"I thought we cleared this up, bitch." He told her under the stream as he washed suds out of his eyes. The curtain was jerked open and the first sight he had was of the barrel of a revolver. His eyes widened as he stumbled back against the rear of the shower, "What...?" he stammered. She said nothing but stepped out of the way, back in to the hall. Her eyes were on him, cold and hard behind her coke-bottle glasses.

He reached for a towel and pulled it around his waist. Her hands tightened and he hurried, the tension in her was obvious, the bunching muscles in her arms, the tremble in her shoulders. He moved toward the bedroom and she screamed at him, "Get the fuck out!"

Down the stairs he scrambled, stumbling over his feet and the falling towel, "Bitch, stop this, you don't have to do this."

"I am NOT your bitch you lying sack of shit." She yelled after him and followed him down the stairs. She got close enough to press the gun to his bare chest and backed him in to the entryway.

He reached for her then, as close as she was, he tried to pull her arm aside. The gun went off, directly against his chest. He gaped for a moment as his heart stuttered in his chest, now torn ragged. Air rushed from his ruined lung through two new holes.

It was his fault, he pulled her arm, he pulled the trigger, but that realization never reached his fore brain. Before her eyes, her father collapsed. Right on the same spot where he had first humiliated her, in to the urine stained carpet, a second stain began to form, this one red. She fell back and sobbed with wide crazed eyes. She stared at the gun in her hand. She stared at the glassy eyes of her lover, her Sir, her Father, her Master. And then for the longest time she stared at nothing.

Ch. 9

Self defense from a traumatized rape victim. That was what the courts decided. But every day since, part of her yearned for him, part deep in the pit of her belly missed it. The rest of her was still recovering.

She pulled up to her desk, and bumped her swollen belly against the keyboard. Getting around was difficult now but she was managing. At last though she felt ready to reach out once again, she still wanted to meet her Master. For the first time in six months she logged back on to IRC.

[13:51:22] <PowerUser> Looking for no limits slave girl to make my own.

[13:52:03] <michelle> They don't exist, you're an idiot.

[13:52:18] <PowerUser> Psh. No need to be a cunt about it.

End

12/25/2013