not in a million years. Master John had taught her that the term Master was one that was earned through loving control and consensual exchange of power.
She could manage the term “sir”. She might call a stranger in the street “sir”, when trying to get their attention. If this is what it took to be allowed to use the bathroom, really, she had no choice.
Seeming satisfied, the man looked at her a moment, and then nodded slowly. “All right. Let me show you to your, uh, bathroom.” He helped her to her feet. Lisa swayed dizzily, as dark shadows obscured her vision for a moment. Unable to help herself, she leaned hard against him until she could stand on her own.
The man led her to the corner of the room, keeping his hand solicitously on her arm. He pointed, and she looked down, confused. There was a large metal bowl in the corner.
“Your humble commode,” he said, grinning, as if he expected her to share in the play on words. No way. Surely he didn’t expect her to squat over that bowl and pee while he stared at her.
She felt the pressure again on her bladder, and now that she was standing, she doubted she could hold it much longer.
“Go on,” he encouraged. “You can pee right there. Don't worry about me. I own you now. Nothing about you is private or to be kept from me. The sooner you get used to that fact, the better. Go ahead, before I change my mind and chain you up again. If you pee on the mattress, you’ll just have to sleep in it.”
This threat did the trick. Awkwardly Lisa squatted over the bowl. For a moment nothing happened, though her bladder ached it was so full. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the thought of the horrible man, standing naked beside her, watching with clinical interest as she tried to void.
She winced as the stream of urine stung the tender, torn flesh where the man's cock had ripped her. She felt the heat burning in her face as well, as she blushed.
He handed her some toilet paper, and then held out a small trash can for her to drop it into. “Later, when you're trained, you'll be dumping this bowl yourself and keeping your area clean. Slaves, of course, don't use toilet facilities.” He spoke matter-of-factly, sending chills of terror down Lisa’s spine.
As he led her back to the mattress he handed her a bottle of water, which Lisa took gratefully. He allowed her to drink it herself. “Get some rest, slave girl. Now that I've claimed you with my cock, you will never be set free. My seed is in you, and you belong to me.”
Something in his curious old-fashioned way of speaking gave Lisa pause. Despite the terrifying import of the meaning, she was struck by the quaint turn of phrase. It reminded her of something. Someone.
He distracted her from these thoughts. “If I leave you unchained, can I trust you not to try anything stupid? Not that there's anything you can do, but I don't want to come in to find anything but my obedient girl sleeping in her bed. Do we have an agreement?”
Lisa nodded, feeling bone tired and suddenly longing for that mattress. As she lay back down, the man moved about the room, taking the bowl, trashcan and even the roll of toilet paper with him.
Lisa’s mind had gone curiously blank as she watched him. She had been abducted, raped and brutalized, but at this very moment fatigue overwhelmed every other feeling. Turning on her side, her face to the wall, she closed her eyes. She was asleep before his key turned the deadbolt.
~*~
It was four in the morning and Gilbert knew he should get to bed. His slave was sleeping, if not comfortably, at least safely in her room. He poured himself a large Scotch, neat, and drank it, hoping it would offset the adrenaline still skittering through his blood.
As he sipped it, he marveled at what he had done. She was his! There was no reason he couldn't keep her forever. Train her slowly. Teach her that her entire world consisted of him, and how to serve and please him.
Sure, she resisted now, but
She could manage the term “sir”. She might call a stranger in the street “sir”, when trying to get their attention. If this is what it took to be allowed to use the bathroom, really, she had no choice.
Seeming satisfied, the man looked at her a moment, and then nodded slowly. “All right. Let me show you to your, uh, bathroom.” He helped her to her feet. Lisa swayed dizzily, as dark shadows obscured her vision for a moment. Unable to help herself, she leaned hard against him until she could stand on her own.
The man led her to the corner of the room, keeping his hand solicitously on her arm. He pointed, and she looked down, confused. There was a large metal bowl in the corner.
“Your humble commode,” he said, grinning, as if he expected her to share in the play on words. No way. Surely he didn’t expect her to squat over that bowl and pee while he stared at her.
She felt the pressure again on her bladder, and now that she was standing, she doubted she could hold it much longer.
“Go on,” he encouraged. “You can pee right there. Don't worry about me. I own you now. Nothing about you is private or to be kept from me. The sooner you get used to that fact, the better. Go ahead, before I change my mind and chain you up again. If you pee on the mattress, you’ll just have to sleep in it.”
This threat did the trick. Awkwardly Lisa squatted over the bowl. For a moment nothing happened, though her bladder ached it was so full. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the thought of the horrible man, standing naked beside her, watching with clinical interest as she tried to void.
She winced as the stream of urine stung the tender, torn flesh where the man's cock had ripped her. She felt the heat burning in her face as well, as she blushed.
He handed her some toilet paper, and then held out a small trash can for her to drop it into. “Later, when you're trained, you'll be dumping this bowl yourself and keeping your area clean. Slaves, of course, don't use toilet facilities.” He spoke matter-of-factly, sending chills of terror down Lisa’s spine.
As he led her back to the mattress he handed her a bottle of water, which Lisa took gratefully. He allowed her to drink it herself. “Get some rest, slave girl. Now that I've claimed you with my cock, you will never be set free. My seed is in you, and you belong to me.”
Something in his curious old-fashioned way of speaking gave Lisa pause. Despite the terrifying import of the meaning, she was struck by the quaint turn of phrase. It reminded her of something. Someone.
He distracted her from these thoughts. “If I leave you unchained, can I trust you not to try anything stupid? Not that there's anything you can do, but I don't want to come in to find anything but my obedient girl sleeping in her bed. Do we have an agreement?”
Lisa nodded, feeling bone tired and suddenly longing for that mattress. As she lay back down, the man moved about the room, taking the bowl, trashcan and even the roll of toilet paper with him.
Lisa’s mind had gone curiously blank as she watched him. She had been abducted, raped and brutalized, but at this very moment fatigue overwhelmed every other feeling. Turning on her side, her face to the wall, she closed her eyes. She was asleep before his key turned the deadbolt.
~*~
It was four in the morning and Gilbert knew he should get to bed. His slave was sleeping, if not comfortably, at least safely in her room. He poured himself a large Scotch, neat, and drank it, hoping it would offset the adrenaline still skittering through his blood.
As he sipped it, he marveled at what he had done. She was his! There was no reason he couldn't keep her forever. Train her slowly. Teach her that her entire world consisted of him, and how to serve and please him.
Sure, she resisted now, but
Similar Books
