Hear Me

The moonlight shone brightly through the window, illuminating his coarse features. It occurred to her that she could trick him into having intercourse with her. Likely he was already hard. If she touched him now, he might fuck her in his sleep like before. She didn’t feel guilt over what had happened then, it had been purely accidental, completely unexpected.

But if she made any overtures now, it would be willful. A deliberate attempt to make him have sex with her when he had already said no. She couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t be like the men who had hurt her.

No matter how she tried to rationalize it in her head, the part of her that knew right from wrong stubbornly refused to die. Even though it might increase their intimacy and thus better secure her place here, she couldn’t defile him that way.

A few sips of water might settle her nerves. She would have lapped at her bowl if she were still imprison

ed, but now she could get up and retrieve a glass of water herself. It had been startlingly easy to fall into this new role, one where she made requests, not pleas. One where she did for herself instead of waiting. It made her consider just how long her slavery had really been.

It made her wonder what came before.

Pushing that unwelcome thought aside, she found her way through the hallway. Without the light of the large window, the rest of the house was nothing but shadows. She filled a glass; the splash of water was loud, reminding her of the rushing waterfall from earlier today. The faucet turned off with a squeak.

She paused, staring at the dark ripples in the cup she held. By slow degrees she became aware of an echo of her own breath. The hair on her neck raised. She wasn’t alone in the room.

“What are you doing out of bed?” came the low voice from the corner.

Master!

How had he managed to slip past her without her noticing? It didn’t matter. He was there. His voice sounded different, like the low voice he had used to tease her, but more. As if he knew a big joke that she didn’t. She felt an answering smile on her own face, but it was slanted with her confusion. And her worry. He was kind when stoic, he had spanked her when playful, what did this new side of him mean?

He was closer now. “A pretty little slave knows better than to wander away.”

Then she recognized that tone: cruelty. Just this morning she had marveled at his lack of it. Now it appeared she would see its face, even if it was still too dark to see his.

She had the urge to flee, but where would she go? She had the urge to fall down at his feet, but he had always hated it when she did that.

“How quickly you forget yourself,” he said in a musing tone.

A gasp escaped her, but it was too late. He caught her by the arm and yanked her to him. Off balance, she would have tumbled into his body, but he turned to the side. She landed face-first on the floor with him following close behind, on top of her.

She panted, thoroughly subdued before she had even thought to fight.

“No one will hear you if you scream. But then, you can’t scream, can you?” He spoke low against her shoulder just like earlier, but this was different. The rumbling of his voice dragged through her body like barbs down her back. There was none of the pleasure.

None of the care. She had not realized how gentle he had been with her before. She had been far too distracted by the feelings coursing through her cunt, her breasts. But now all she felt was his hand on her neck, pressing her face into the lumpy wood floor. And the feel of his cock lying against her ass made her squirm.

He grunted. “Maybe we had the wrong idea all along. Maybe I don’t need your obedience. I like it when you struggle.”

Perhaps it was a spark of panic at this new sadistic side of him or perhaps it was a perverse desire to please him, but she renewed her struggles. She attempted to push up, but his grip on her neck was like iron. She reached back, hitting nothing, kicking no one. As her body writhed against his, he groaned. After she had flailed and managed to bruise her own body against the wooden floor, she sank down in defeat.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted in a whisper. “I like that. Just a little bit of spirit so I don’t feel like I’m fucking a piece of meat. But then you’ll settle down and take it, won’t you?”

A shiver ran through her, and he laughed softly. He kicked her knees out, spreading them wide. Her fingers scrabbled against the wood, finding nothing to hold on to. There’d be no pleasure here. No passion, no solace.

His cock nudged her entrance, blunt and hard, but at least the first drops of his orgasm provided much needed lubrication. In one smooth, angry motion, he slid to the hilt. She gasped.

“Talk, dammit,” he muttered behind her. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Even if you can’t say the words, you ought to be able to make noise.”

He pulled out and slammed back in. Her entire body seemed to ripple upon impact, rattling apart and then slamming back together. But still, she was silent but for her harsh breathing.

“How hard would I have to hurt you,” he whispered in her ear, “before you screamed?”

She felt her eyes widen, but then they slammed shut again as he thrust deep inside. Her body felt broken in pieces, disjointed. Her mind was lost, confused, hurt more by Master’s sudden shift in temperament than she had been for the weeks, months before.

It was one thing to be treated like an animal night and day; she could almost believe it was true. Her mindlessness became a refuge; her submission a balm. But he had treated her like so much more: a desired lover, a cherished slave.

Somehow she had ruined it.