CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The blonde woke and stretched in her comfortable bed. Disoriented, she surveyed her
surroundings. She decided she was still dreaming, because nothing made sense. She
was in an old-fashioned dungeon cell with thick bars that spanned from floor to ceiling.
The bars were spread apart wide enough for her to look out, but not enough for her to fit
through.
Outside, in a larger room, were antique devices of torture and a clean, well-lit
space that held the latest in bondage toys and gear. In contrast, her cell floor was
carpeted and the bed had a soft mattress, flowery sheets and a down comforter. A
small table held a pitcher of water and a clean glass. Up against one of the walls of
bars, was a wooden bookshelf filled with romance novels and a chair next to her bed
looked inviting. The perfect place to read while she waited for ... what?
It didn't matter. She buried herself under the soft quilt and tried to sleep, to
dream herself to another place. Her bladder forced her to get out of the warm covers
and she searched for a chamber pot. Instead, she found a door that led to a modern
bathroom with a large combination bathtub/shower.
Idly, she wondered if she was still dreaming, because she certainly didn't
remember this place. But what did she remember? She didn't even know her own
name, yet her reflection seemed familiar. Blond hair, brown eyes, yes that was
definitely her face. Now if she could only remember who she was. Did she care? No, it
didn't matter, because the love of her life would come for her and take her away from
these dreams.
On the mirror was a list and she studied it carefully. The handwriting was bold,
masculine, with a sense of outrageousness.
Your Master Says You Must:
Be a good slave
Always obey him in all things
Brush your teeth and hair
Clean yourself often
Wear whatever he's left for you
Eat whatever he gives you
Satisfy him completely
And please try to remember that your name is Vixen!
The last part was in a different handwriting as if the whole list was a joke. Yet the
list was vaguely familiar and she read it again. Be a good slave. Yes, she knew how to
do that. There wasn't anything on the list that she didn't think she could do. Besides, it
was only a dream.
Vixen? The name didn't sound right. Well, it was her dream. Maybe she liked
the name Vixen. Smiling, she relieved herself and turned on the water in the shower.
When it was warm, Vixen stepped in and washed herself.
A pair of invisible hands stroked her shoulders and she flinched in surprised.
"Let your master touch you."
The voice softly spoke into her mind. Two invisible hands traveled down her
body and held her hips. It felt as if strong arms were surrounding her and another pair
of hands massaged her full breasts. Soft kisses rained on her neck. Vixen bent her
head. The kisses became rougher. She started to squirm, but the arms and hands held
her in place. Panicking, she tried to call out for help, but no sound came. She tried
again and a hand covered her mouth.
"You're not pleasing me."
The voice was angry, harsh and she heard growling.
"Please forgive me, Master. You frightened me," she thought and the hand over
her mouth trailed down her throat, feathering the smooth skin. Vixen felt her master's
fangs rubbing back and forth over her neck. She took deep breaths to calm herself and
the hands resumed touching her.
"That's it, Vixen. Be still."
She liked his soft voice. It was soothing and hypnotic. His mental touch left her
wanting more. There was an ache that started in her sex and spread quickly. Her heat
pooled low and her body tingled with longing. His voice like his psychic hands touched
her, set off triggers and made her feel wanton, sexy, aroused. Swaying slightly, she
thought about touching her master and heard him laughing.
The laughter wasn't in her mind nor was it pleasant. It was bitter, filled with a
combination of joy and anger. It was disturbing, but she couldn't stop herself from
wanting to see and touch him. She had this overwhelming desire to please him, to do
whatever he wanted, to be whatever he wanted. It wasn't wrong for a slave to desire
her master, was it?
Vixen turned her head. He was behind her, in the bathroom, watching her with a
hungry gaze. The man was huge, a giant. The leather outfit was a surprise. Vixen
hadn't pictured him in leather. But then again, she hadn't pictured him at all. Vixen
found him quite handsome and yet her master was as mysterious as this dream. She
knew nothing about him.
"You're not dreaming, girl. Do you know who you are?"
"Your slave, sir?"
"Very good. Finish your shower and I'll feed you."
"Yes, sir. Would you like to join me?"
"If I wanted to join you, I'd be in the shower. Have you forgotten everything about
me again?"
Vixen nodded and blushed. His psychic hands and arms released her. She
kneeled in the shower, her head down.
"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know you, but I read your list."
"That's a good start."
Ivan moved forward and placed his hand under her chin. She raised her head,
but kept her eyes lowered.
"Very nice. You haven't forgotten everything. You may finish your shower."
"Thank you, Master."
*****************
Dressed in his favorite leather outfit, Ivan watched Vixen and thought about his
plans. He was prepared to punish her, to scare her into submission, but she had woken
more pliable than usual. More ready to please. The longer he kept her, the less she
struggled or tried to remember anything about herself.
Vixen lost her voice just days after he acquired her. Ivan missed the sounds of
her screaming and her moans of agony. The beatings weren't as much fun, but they
were still very pleasurable. For now, he was content to take in her natural beauty.
Her long blond hair was tucked into a shower cap and her round curvy body
glistened in the water. Vixen had a small triangle of golden hair over her sex, but the
rest of her lower body was hairless. Sometimes, Ivan shaved the hair away, but he
often liked to pull and tug on it. It pleased him to inflict pain and she was incredibly
responsive.
Ivan liked her skin tan and most days Chris put Vixen in a tanning booth. That is,
most days when she was healed enough. Ivan did like to leave marks on her body. To
keep her fit and toned, she had a daily regime of aerobic and weight lifting exercises.
Every afternoon, Chris gave her an enema and washed her hair and body in the
bathroom. After which, she was fed and put to bed for a nap. When Vixen woke, she
was often confused and always forgetful. It both frustrated and pleased Ivan, because
each day they began their relationship anew.
She stepped out of the shower to dry herself and Ivan moved forward grabbing
her arms. Startled, she tried to back away and he held her in place.
"Did I say you could get out of the shower?"
Vixen shook her head no. The smell of her fear filled the room and Ivan was
pleased indeed. He spun her around, forcing her to bend over. She lay passively with
her stomach pressed into his bulky right thigh. He spanked her wet bottom with his
large hand. The spanks stung, yet Vixen didn't fight. Even when Ivan struck her hard
enough to bring tears to her eyes, she kept her body limp and waited for him to finish.
After what seemed like an eternity, her bottom throbbed from the blows and she began
to shake.
The punishment was harder than she expected and his excitement overpowered
her senses. Vixen could feel his cock rising, straining against the leather, feel the
monster in him raging at her mistake. His hand was merciless, lowering to find new
places to torment, smacking at her thighs. She wanted to beg for forgiveness, instead
she began to scream. That she couldn't hear herself upset her as much as his
spanking. Was he always this cruel?
Her thoughts and pain finally touched him. Her head was upside down near the
floor. Vixen was clutching his left leg to keep from falling over. Somehow, in his fury,
he had thoroughly spanked her. Her reddened bottom and thighs attested to his
actions. She had no idea how to keep from angering him further, yet her thoughts
begged him to teach her how to please him.
This was new. Not her actions, Vixen often held him when she received her
punishments. However, this was the first time she begged him to teach her about his
desires. This Ivan liked very much.
"You always ask for permission if I haven't given you an order."
He accentuated his decree with another smack to her bottom.
"Understood?"
"Yes, Master. I need your permission to do anything."
"That's right. Now I want you to do something for me. I want you to come."
Ivan shifted so he was holding a breast in his left hand. With his right hand, he
widened her legs and stroked the soft lips of her sex. Vixen closed her eyes and he
squeezed her breast.
"You will come for me, won't you?"
"Yes, sir. Please let me touch you."
"You have to earn that, girl. Stay still for me. As still as you possibly can."
Vixen couldn't see him grinning. Ivan knew she needed to wiggle. He had
punished her many times for her inability to stay still when he brought her to a climax.
He pinched the bud of her sex and she jumped under his hand.
"You can do better than that," he mocked.
He pinched the bud again and she dug her heels into the carpeting. His fingers
began a slow exploration of her sex, strumming the folds, circling her clit and finally a
finger pressed deep into her tight sheath. Vixen rocked herself against his hand and he
pinched a nipple. The pain shocked her. Struggling, she raised her head and he
pinched her harder.
"Hold still!"
But Vixen couldn't. She was trying to get away from his hand, her nipple in too
much pain. Pulling his finger from her wet sex, he began to spank the sensitive lips.
The spanks weren't light. They were hard and punishing. Psychic hands held her in
place and she began to sob under his attack. The hands were more for emphasis than
anything else. She had already given up and was begging with her mind for mercy.
Enjoying her pain, Ivan spanked her breasts. Back and forth, harder and harder,
he spanked her. Vixen twitched and jerked with each blow. Her silent screams filled his
mind and he became high off the sexual thrill of debasing her when she only meant to
please him.
Instead of fighting, Vixen managed to move her hands behind her back and raise
herself. She was half standing and half leaning, with her stomach still pressed against
his bent right leg. Vixen held her forearms tightly, pushing her chest forward. Ivan
thought he'd explode. His submissive slave was in agony, hating the spanking and yet
offering herself for more.
With his right hand, Ivan yanked off the shower cap and held her long hair in a
tight fist. He pinched a nipple. She trembled from the pain and he pinched it tighter,
crushing the pink bud. Her eyes glazed over and her mouth widened into an "O" of
agony. Vixen was past screaming, past sobbing, nearly in a state of shock from his
actions.
Ivan drew her ear closer to his mouth. Tenderly, he nibbled on the earlobe, his
lips and tongue slowly tasting, teasing, but the grip of his hands didn't loosen. The taste
of her fear and pain appeased his monstrous appetite.
"This is how you please me, Vixen. You suffer for me, give yourself to me and
never, ever fight me."
Ivan released her and she fell into him, forearms clenched behind her back. He
imagined the whimpering noises she would be making if she still had her voice. His
hand found her hair again and he rushed her forward, pinning her face and chest to the
wall. Something came over him that he didn't want to define, refused to acknowledge.
His hands became gentle, his kisses soft and he pressed himself into her warm body.
Her scent was wild, filled with the forest and flowers. Vixen was aching, her body
crying out to his, wanting to follow his earlier command. The ache became his own and
he had to have her, to claim her again. It was never enough. Ivan was obsessed with
her. Unsnapping the leather jock, he impaled her on his raging erection. To his delight,
she climaxed immediately.
"That's it, Vixen. Now come while I fuck you."
The tone was husky, needy. No longer the master, Ivan was the slave to his
slave. He thrust into her, again and again, with sure long strokes. Vixen pushed
backwards and Ivan reached around her to massage her swollen clit. His other hand
pressed over her mouth and he drew her head back. When she turned slightly to offer
him her neck, his body clenched and tightened. He bit into her throat and they climaxed
together.
Drinking slowly, Ivan held her in place. The rush of her blood was better than
any dessert, better than any fine wine. Her fear, pain and release were all mixed into
the taste and he wanted more.
Vixen felt his fangs piercing her, the moment when he began to drink. Her blood
was rushing to the surface, her heart beating fast and yet it felt right. He was her
master, why not take everything she had to give? Maybe he would take her life. The
thought should have terrified her, instead she welcomed it. Welcomed the freedom that
would come with no longer having to serve one who was too cruel.
"You want me, Vixen. Don't think about leaving me. Ever."
His mind reached deep into hers, taking every bit of will that she might have had
left and implanted the need to live, to serve him for yet another day and then another.
"Have to live for you. Master wants me to live for him."
"Yes, Vixen, for me. For my pleasure."
Ivan drank until she could no longer stand, until she was limp in his arms.
Satisfied, he licked her neck clean and inspected her skin. It increased his pleasure
that her bottom was bruising. He spanked her again, just to feel the warm flesh under
his palm.
--- End Authorized Excerpt ---
