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| His Slave Screams 2 | Back to O | Back to main page |
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| His Slave Screams 2 | Back to O | Back to main page |
Collected by Djian
"His Slave Screams"
by Subjukate
Part 2
Two years had passed since Sir Gus had gazed upon Laura's naked form and
felt the rush of a trainer in his finest pursuit. He had learned to play
her like an instrument. He could cause her to cry out in specific pitches
with certain flicks of his wrist. He was proud of the way he had reformed
her without the breaking so common to the training. She was his greatest
achievement, and she had been stolen by fear and cowardice.
He was aware that she had been found. He hand-chose Lord John for his
tenderness and sensitivity. If he had been the one to retrieve her, she
would not have come so easily. The deception was necessary, but still
unusual. He would allow her to train beneath John until her emotional
wounds had healed. She was, after all, a submissive slave, not a prisoner.
She could not be held against her will. He knew that when she was ready,
she would come; she always did.
He resigned himself to waiting for her to come to him. John knew his
location and was aware of his affection for her. Gus would take the
appropriate steps to lure her back into her stable role as his submissive.
He would summon her to him in the most intimate fashion, a call only she
could hear. She would be helpless to resist him. It was actually very
simple. They were two halves of a secret equation that only they could
satisfy.
Shortly after losing her, he had left the institute and moved to the United
States, where he took up residence in Texas, and took a position at a very
large private hospital as a physical therapist. He liked Texas. He liked
his work. He had shunned training slaves for several months and had not
taken a new pet project since Laura. He had originally trained as many as
three slaves at once. Every waking moment of his life at the school was
consumed by their education. It was a worthy pursuit, but none were as
rewarding as Laura. His thoughts wandered as he tidied his home and put
away the implements of self-pleasure and suffering left out from the night
before.
Laura was a masochist by nature and predisposed to submissiveness in the
eighth degree. He could vividly recall the moment that she discovered her
masochistic tendency. It was the cat-o-nine-tails that did it. As he held
it in his hand, it reminded him how it had changed her.
It had occurred in her second year. He had not devised the punishment, but
it was well deserved as she had been cocky all week. It culminated when she
refused to rise at the appropriate hour. The dom she was to serve that
morning stormed her room and dragged her bodily from her bed. He berated
her soundly, explaining in detail what she had done to deserve the
punishment she was about to receive.
She was bound to a chair in the dining room, with her sex exposed. He
applied the pronged nipple clamps to her unprepared tips all the while
telling her how she had disappointed him, how she had disgraced herself,
and how she did not deserve to serve anyone. He was brutal and sarcastic.
It did not take long to reduce her to tears. The dom had waited, as was
required, for Gus's arrival. All punishments administered were observed by
the training team. She was not prepared but well protected. The nipples did
not bleed, though they were clearly strained. The dom pulled on the
nipples, teased and tormented her.
Gus could recall staring in disbelief. She had thrown her head back and was
moaning from deep within her naked chest. The weeping came from her belly.
It was most unusual. The more cruel he was to her tortured nipples, the
more aroused she became. It was obvious, from her exposed cunt, that she
was deriving pleasure from it, and the dom became more and more frustrated
in his attempt to hurt her. His anger flared and he was about to strike her
when finally Gus stepped in and gave her a strong whack to the inside of
her thigh, close to the opening of her love tunnel with his crop. She
screamed and came violently without warning. He could not help but laugh.
Gus assigned another slave to the dom for service that morning and took
Laura aside into his office.
He blindfolded her, bound her hands, and sat her naked backside in a chair
upholstered in fine Egyptian cotton. She was still crying uncontrollably,
and he wanted to soothe her. Unfortunately, the nipple clamps would have to
come off, which would only agitate her further.
She was crying in fear and half-hysteria when he said, "Laura, be still.
You are in my office and I am not angry." She settled but still whimpered.
He continued, "You deserved the punishment, did you not?"
"I did. I am sorry. I won't do it again." She was rigid in the chair.
"The clamps will need to come off. It will hurt you, but I will control
your suffering."
"No! Leave them on! No!" She fought the bindings of her hands.
Gus smiled sadistically and said, "I am pleased with you. You have aroused
me and I would like to indulge you in the fucking you so richly desire, but
first I must remove the clamps." He toyed with them as he said this, gently
moving them with his finger. She squirmed and sighed. With his left hand he
pinned her to the back of the chair. With his right he unhinged the clamp.
She screamed and cried out as he threw it to the floor. The second was more
difficult to remove because she was fighting him, now.
"Laura. Laura, please."
"No, please, Master, I cannot bear it. I can't. Mercy, please, sir, have
mercy on your slave."
"If I could give it to you I would. Short of rendering you unconscious, I
can think of nothing to make this easier for you."
"Please, sir, I cannot bear it."
He renewed his grip and solidly pinned her while removing the last jagged
clamp. Two small droplets appeared as she lurched forward while making a
wail that made him wonder how he could ever forget to gag her. Laura fell
to the floor in tears fighting with the ropes around her wrists. He watched
her momentarily, and then stooped to unbind her.
When she was free she clung to his neck and sobbed apologies into his
shoulder. He was deeply moved and her intensity tempted him. When the tears
ebbed and her whimpers had stopped, he asked her if she had noticed
anything unusual about the punishment. She was too upset to really analyze
the experience, and so he had one of the first year slaves take her back to
her bed to quiet down. He left instructions with the staff for her to be
left alone and she stabilized in her solitude.
The next morning he took his cat-o-nine-tails with him when he went to
check her. She was still damp from her morning bath and she shied away from
him upon seeing the instrument he had brought with him.
"You have never been stroked with one of these," he said, holding it up. "I
will not mark you right now. I brought this so that you could examine it
closely. Here. Hold it."
She sat on her bed and held it with both hands as if she were frightened of
dropping it. She examined it in what appeared to be controlled terror. Her
breathing quickened.
"I need to examine you where you were wounded yesterday before I can send
you back into service. Please lay back and place your arms above your
head." He took the flogger from her and placed it on the floor as she
nervously laid down in her bed and put her arms in the yielding pose. Gus
pulled a chair up next to her bed and gently touched the tender pink
nipples. They were raw and red where the skin had broken. He was careful
not to touch the ragged edges as he touched them.
"Did you rub in the salve I sent after dinner last night?" he asked.
Her reply was barely audible. "Yes, sir."
"Did you apply it to your wrists too?"
"Oh no. I forgot." She was becoming upset again, fearful of another punishment.
"No, no. It's okay. I did not instruct you to salve your wrists. Let me see
them."
She sat up and held out her hands for him to see. No marks. No bruises. Good.
"This looks good. Lay back down, please." She settled back into her
previous position as he readied the salve on his hands. She did not look at
him as he massaged it into the thin skin of her breasts. He had always
loved the feel of her breasts. He liked their weight and how they hung. She
winced as he smoothed the salve over the raw area left by the jagged jaws
of the clamp. As he began to administer the salve to the second breast she
began to tremble. This amused him.
"Open your thighs for me." She hesitated, so forcefully he added, "Now."
Her thighs opened quickly and he brought his hand down to test the waters
of her delta. She had flooded. Then he said, "Laura, tell me what happened
when I leveled the inside of your thigh with the crop yesterday during your
punishment. Did you come? Is that what that strange release was?"
"I have been thinking about that. I think I did come, but, it wasn't like
the other orgasms that I have had since I came here."
Slowly, her trainer began the gentle circles the he knew would arouse her.
He said, "Tell me how it was different."
"It wasn't just my cunt that spasmed, my whole body participated. And when
it stopped, I felt like someone else." "How do you mean?"
"I felt like I had been recharged and my whole body was on fire."
"Do you feel that now?" he asked alluding to her gentle undulation beneath
his hands.
"No..."
"I am going to test you. No harm will come to you."
He continued the slow circles around her clitoris with his one hand while
massaging the salve into the aching nipple with the other. She recoiled at
first. Then the pressure continued to build and she slipped back into the
original rhythm of her sexual dance. He increased the stimulation to the
nipple and upped the speed of her clitoral massage. She began to sigh and
moan.
"Oh, that is very good, my sweet slave. You are such a good girl for
trusting your master." He cooed, "You are a good girl. Good... Good... Now,
tell your master what you want."
"Master, please allow me to come."
"Oh, Laura, you are nowhere near being ready to come. Usually this whole
process takes you much longer. Why do you suppose you are this close so
soon?"
Her head was rolling to the right and left as she fought to control
herself. "Uh, sir, please..."
"No, not yet. What is different? Think. Tell me," he demanded.
Her thrashing up against his cupped and gentle hand had increased in
intensity. He slipped two long fingers up into her on the next upward
thrust while carefully pinching the angry red nipple. Her sighs became more
pronounced as she almost came uncontrollably. He let go of the nipple and
held her head while speaking to her and tormenting her begging cunt with
his hand.
"The word you are searching for is `masochist.' You seem to enjoy pain. Not
intense pain or senseless self-destructive pain, like some. It appears you
do best with some sense of support and care. I will remember this for your
sake. You may let go now. Come for me. Come."
As if a dam had burst from the confines of her heart, she let go floods of
emotion. Her whole body contracted around his fingers and gripped them as
if she sought to incorporate them into her very being. She cried out
naturally, but it was the cry of release. She spasmed several times, and
then went limp beneath him. Her eyes closed and she said, "Is it bad that I
am a masochist?"
"No, my dear. It is good."
"Why?" she asked, in a small, child-like voice.
"Life is full of pain. If you learn to enjoy suffering, you can learn to
enjoy more of your life."
"How will you use this?"
"With this understanding, I can teach you more fully, and punish you more
completely."
"But, sir, how do you punish someone who enjoys pain?" He laughed, and
said, "All in good time. I will show you, all in good time."
Months and years had passed since that small moment when he knew how
perfectly formed she was for him and the pleasuring of him. His love for
her had become his religion. Studiously, he packed the cat-o-nine-tails
into the package and sealed the box labeled to her new address at Lord
John's house.
Housekeeping. Truly, her masochism had increased in intensity. She hated
housekeeping.
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