Tricked

He stroked one of the welts with his fingertip, awed that he had done that. He lifted the finger to her mouth, smearing the trace of blood over her chapped lips.

Still out of it, she barely reacted. But the simple power of that gesture—of the total and absolute control he had over this girl—nearly made him come then and there. He briefly considered trying to get his cock into her while she remained on the cross, but dismissed the idea as impractical.

Instead, he crouched and released her ankle cuffs. Then he rose to unclip the wrists cuffs. Her arms flopped down like dead weights and she cried out, her face twisting in pain. As her knees buckled, he pressed his body against hers to keep her upright. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he drew her away from the cross. The color was returning to her face and her eyes had become more focused.

“You’re quite the little drama queen.” He shook his head. “You need to toughen up, girl. The whip barely broke the skin. You better get used to the sight of blood, because it turns me on.” He gripped the tent pole in his shorts to emphasize his point.

She said nothing, but the fear in her eyes made his cock throb. He needed to fuck this cunt. But first, a shower. She was rank.

Damon half-walked, half-carried Callie down the spiral stairs to the first floor. He led her into the master bedroom and on through to the bathroom. Opening the glass stall door, he reached in and turned on the water. Then he quickly stripped off his clothes, deciding he’d join her.

“I’m going to wash you. You just stand there like a good little piece of ass.”

She remained silent and docile as the warm water sluiced over her body. Hopefully her well-deserved punishment had done the trick, and she would think twice before pulling anything like that again.

“Put your hands on your head and stand with feet shoulder-width apart,” he instructed.

He soaped her body, carefully washing the welts on her breasts and the still-reddened, already bruising skin on her ass and thighs. The sight of the marks he’d placed on that lovely skin kept his cock hard as an iron rod. She was his object, his toy, his slave. He could do whatever he wanted to this girl and no one, not a soul, would ever know.

He had to be sensible, though. It wouldn’t do to kill or permanently harm her. She needed to stay reasonably healthy in order to serve him properly. He would have allowed her to eat this morning if she hadn’t pulled her little stunt. That was on her—entirely her own fault.

Hopefully, it was the last time she disobeyed. He would condition her to be a subservient, obedient slave. She would come to understand that she had no choice in the matter, so she might as well get used to it. This was her life now.

There were all kinds of guides and advice on the internet about how to train a dirty little slut. And he had the added freedom of not needing to worry about stupid shit like limits and consent. When he got bored with her, he’d sell her to some sex traffic ring, and do it all over again.

He rubbed a soapy hand between Callie’s legs and then rinsed her body with one of the hand-held showerheads. He stroked his erection, eager to stick it in her slit.

He was aware soap wasn’t a good lubricant for sex, and silently praised his own foresight at placing the tube of KY in the stall that morning. Grabbing the lube from the shelf, he smeared it over the head of his cock.

Reaching for Callie, he lifted her into his arms. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he directed, hoisting her body on his hips. He walked with her in his arms to the back of the stall and out of the direct line of the warm spray. Leaning her against the wall, he held her up with one arm as he reached for his throbbing cock. He positioned the head between her legs, groaning with anticipatory pleasure as he pushed his way inside her.

She gave a small yelp as he entered her. Her cunt was nice and tight. It spasmed against his shaft like a thousand perfect fingers. Holding her in place against the wall, he thrust and rutted with animal pleasure. He groaned with lust as a powerful climax gathered in his groin. “You… are… my personal… cunt,” he gasped as he ejaculated deep inside her.

Satisfied, he pulled out and set her down on the tile. “Get on your knees and kiss my feet, slave,” he directed. “And then thank me for fucking you.”

She had huddled herself in a little ball the moment he set her down. For a moment she didn’t move. He was about to give her a sharp prod with his toe, but then she shifted, wincing as she got to her knees. She lowered her head and brushed the top of his foot with her lips. “Thank you,” she mumbled, face averted.