I seductively leaned into her ear and whispered, “Now, I’m not going to lie, this is going to hurt.”
She immediately began to panic, twisting, turning, frantically whining; due to her speech restriction.
I stood in front of her smiling as I flexed the cane in my hands, prolonging the agony, just because I was going to make sure that she understood she was not going anywhere. She was going to move into my mansion, period………point…….blank!
That first strike hurt so badly, that I pissed on myself a little bit and the Master of the mansion did not miss it; because he proclaimed, “This will be a discipline session that you will not soon forget!”
Over and over he struck me with that cane, until something happened and I quit fighting. I just gave in to the pain. I don’t even remember his releasing me.
I remember him pulling me into his arms and my head falling against his shoulder. I remember being laid on a soft bed and gently and tenderly, being made love to, as orgasm, after orgasm, racked my endorphin drugged body.
I remember being bathed in a tub full of suds that smelled of violet and vanilla; in a dimly candlelit bathtub.
I remember a Master who washed my hair and bathed my body with great care—as if I were his child, his porcelain doll, or his wife.
I remember that my life changed that day, and I will never be the same…
Something happened to me that day. I guess that it would be equivalent to what the vanilla world (those not involved in the BDSM lifestyle) terms as falling in love. As ironic as it is, we bonded that day. I am not talking about some superficial bonding process—I am talking about a deep core connection. I have never had anyone who touched me in the very core of my soul; the way that the Master of the mansion did that night.
I have to go now, my Master awaits me…
Chapter Five
Ophelia
I stood in the master bath eying myself in the large, opulent, golden colored, full length mirror. My ass was not as bruised as I had anticipated.
From the way that the caning had felt the night before, I would have thought that I would be black and blue. There was bruising—but it appeared to be more sporadic, thin blue lines and the welts were already just about gone.
When I awoke alone I was relieved that I had the place to myself; though I did feel disoriented. First things first, how was a girl supposed to get a cup of coffee around here?
As if someone were reading my mind, there was a knock on the door. I grabbed a robe from the hook behind the door and made my way to answer it. A nude, tall, gorgeous blonde, stood with a tray of coffee and croissants.
“Just set them there,” I kindly said. I could have sworn that she gave me the evil eye, but I wrote it off to being my imagination. Were slaves even allowed to do that?
Hell, I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I had one thing on the brain: finishing this story and getting the hell away from Master Org.
I quickly ate and downed my first cup of coffee. I then proceeded to make my way back to finish the shower that I had started.
Everything that I needed had been provided for.
Not just anything—everything. My clothes had been laid out for me in my size. A make-up table complete with my brands of make-up was there. (I’m the worst for mixing and matching, in order to get the look that I want.)
I was certain that someone had to have taken great care in returning to my condo and gathering Intel on my beauty practices. I knew that someone was Richard and I could not help but be a tad bit flattered that he would go to such extents. I could not understand for the life of me, why this man who had access to any woman that he wanted; was insistent on pursuing me.
Barbie
Barbie stormed from the room knowing that she was out of anyone’s site; anyone that she had to answer to. She made a bee-line for Daphne and immediately started ranting. “That fucking cunt is laid up there in Master’s bedroom while we sleep in bunk beds and wait on her hand and foot. Daphne internally shrunk back, not wanting to incur her roommate’s wrath.
“I don’t know why she is here either Barbie. I’m sure that it has to do with the story that is being published.”
“Yeah right, I guess fucking my Master is part of her duties.”
He isn’t yours Barbie—not until—and unless—he says.
“We don’t know that you get to stay, you gave up your rights to where you go when you came here, Barbie.”
“Just shut-up, Daphne. Come hell or high water, I’m staying and Master Richard Baron is mine!”
Daphne cringed inwardly at the thought of the Master’s seeing the real Barbie.
What Daphne did not know was that there was very little that got by the Masters of the Mansion and they were well aware of Barbie’s bad attitude.