Li's Story Ch. 01

Li worked the shaft back and forth, faster and faster. Sweat sprung from her forehead and ran down her face as she struggled to increase her tempo still. It was a wailing crescendo towards the final climax. She could feel a thousand eyes on her: a stark black-and-white figure under blindingly bright lights that afforded her no shadow in which to hide. In truth, she only truly cared for one pair of eyes among the audience. He was watching most intently, eyes boring into her soul.

She felt a bead of sweat dribble down and fall from her chin. She ignored it. She had to be perfect tonight. This was her work, her art. Her grip on the shaft was slippery, but it was impossible to stop now. The tip shuddered to and fro inches from her face.

At last the climax came. She gave one last glorious thrust before whipping the bow from the violin, and executing a graceful curtsey. The conservatorium erupted in applause. The stage lights finally dimmed and the rest of the orchestra glowed to life. Li felt herself blush with pride as the audience lavished her with a standing ovation. For a moment she saw him near the front, still seated. His face was still. He had noticed her mistake earlier. She curtsied again, towards him, and moved off the stage.

It was not long before the concert had ended, and she said her goodbyes to her colleagues. Half of them couldn't even pronounce her first name properly, and had taken to calling her "Li". She didn't mind. Most people had called her that since coming to the States, but it was a constant reminder that she was still an outsider to them. She didn't have friends amongst these people, not that that bothered her either. Not many people would understand the life she chose, and the fewer people who got close to her, the fewer awkward conversations there were likely to be.

She stepped out into the parking lot. It had rained during the concert and the air still had a crisp, fresh bite. His Lexus was parked under the nearest lamppost, his silhouette already at the wheel. She bowed her head and, walking as quickly as she could in her tight dress, made her way to the passenger door.

She was welcomed into the car with a waft of warmed air and the smell of his spicy cologne. His tuxedo cut a fine form: tight to his body and proudly displaying the tapering V of his torso. He gave a sideways glance and a half smile; just enough to tell her he was pleased at seeing her. For a while they said nothing as he guided the car through the streets. The engine purred under his commands, the gear stick compliant under his powerful hand. She loved the fact that this car had a manual transmission. He seemed so focused as he drove, managing the revs and the gears. Whenever he stressed the engine the entire chassis would thrum, sending a deep vibration up her spine and chills through her body. They stopped at a traffic light just as it turned red, and he finally broke his gaze from the road to appreciate her legs.

"That dress was a good choice for tonight. Exposes enough to make men want to see more, without divulging too much." He said, his voice deep and quiet. He had once said that if you need to raise your voice to get things done, you were saying the wrong words.

Li looked down. The dress was her favourite, simple though it was: tight, black, and strapless, ending halfway down her thigh. "Thank you Master. You chose it." He gave another half-smile in response, then slid his hand over her knee. It slowly crept down her silky smooth thigh. She bit her lip and took a wavering breath. It had been three days since she had earned her last orgasm. All she could think about was earning the next.

"You missed the C# in the second refrain."

"Yes Master. This whore is sorry, Master."

"You promised me a perfect performance this evening."

"Yes Master. This cum-stain knows she deserves to be punished, Master."

His hand started to drag the dress up her thigh, exposing more and more of her legs. In aching anticipation, she felt herself moisten at his touch. He still managed to do this to her after eight years. Her breath was ragged for a moment before she caught herself. She bit her lip and gripped the door handle until her knuckles turned white.

"Please Master." His hands pulled the dress higher, and she thrust her pelvis up to free the resisting material. She had lost underwear privileges last week. She was wet and exposed. "Please..." The light turned green.

"You haven't earned it yet." He released her thigh and slammed the car into gear before gunning the accelerator down the empty road. Li was crestfallen, but knew better than to complain. She moved to pull her dress back into place. "No." That was enough for her, and she sat like that for the rest of their journey, exposed to any passers-by lucky enough to be at an opportune angle.

The great, glistening towers of Manhattan eventually faded away to spires of tiny jewels on the horizon, and in time they reached a more luxurious, and far more private, area of New York. It was getting late, but there were still a few pedestrians out, some late-night romantics, some just walking the dog. They pulled to a stop at another traffic light. "Your breasts, expose them now." Without hesitation Li reached behind her back and undid the clasp, then pulled the top of her dress down, allowing her fulsome breasts to tumble out.

Despite the warmth of the car's heater, her small nipples were hard enough to cut glass. Tiny gold studs glimmered on either side of them. To most slaves, she was told, a collar was the symbol of their submission. To Li, it was her nipple piercings. Although the exact jewellery was changed according to the need or occasion, so long as something was there, she felt fully owned. It had been Master who ordered her to get the piercings in the first place, and when Li did so without even a second thought that she knew that she truly was his slave.

This was doubly reinforced when he sent her to have her breasts enlarged. She would not have complained even if the idea of resisting came to her. He had arranged for one of the top cosmetic surgeons in the country to attend to her, and being of Chinese birth, her suffering through adolescence had only rewarded her with a B cup size. Her body was the canvas where he did his work, and she now presented the passing world with perfectly formed, bulbous double-Ds.

Although there were times of extreme pain, discomfort, and displeasure, she had never stopped being anything less than happy with their relationship.

Li left her thoughts as they turned down the road towards their home, a large colonial-era house with a ring of thick shrubs and a legion of tall trees to ensure privacy. Shrinking in the side-view mirror, Li saw a middle-aged man, and judging by his gaping mouth he must have been just at the right place to see everything. A thrilling rush filled her chest and put a mischievous grin on her face. She tried to hide it. This was supposed to be part of her punishment, after all.

Hardly a minute later they had driven up the winding drive to the garage. Once they parked, he exited first. She remained, waiting for orders, still exposed to the cold night. A few moments later he opened her door.

"Fetch the mail. Then go to the kitchen, and wait for me in your corner." Li got out and headed to the mailbox down the drive, the early spring air happily stripping the warmth from her skin. She retrieved two letters before starting her way back to the house, easily a five minute walk in her heels. Without thinking she checked the recipients of the letters: one for Xiaolian Hsu, probably her pay check, and the other for Master, Richard Hargrove. It didn't actually matter, she would give both to him and he would decide if she needed to know what was in the letters.

It hadn't always been like this, of course. When she had submitted to him eight years ago he almost immediately began to push her limits, taking more control of her while stripping her decisions away. At first she had resisted, but never actually protested. The fact was that she was happy like this, without having to make decisions, without having the burden of responsibility on her, beyond following his orders. It had hardly stunted her career. She had gone from a middling violinist floundering through a BA degree to Magna Cum Laude that was head-hunted by the New York Symphony Orchestra.

By the time she entered the house, her body was covered in gooseflesh. She placed the letters on the entry-hall's table and, despite needing the toilet, went directly to her corner in the kitchen. She knelt down, bowed her head tightly into it, arched her back as she had been taught, and clasped her hands under her chin. While the kitchen boasted an array of only the best in domestic technologies, the floor was a simple white tile that was even colder than the air outside.

She remained there, stock-still. Some time ago she had remained in this pose for three hours, and had to relieve her bladder without moving a muscle. He had made her lick it up. Not a pleasant memory, but from then on she was far more diligent about her Kegel exercises. Fortunately, this time it was hardly a few minutes before his footsteps came up behind her. One of his large hands laid gently on an exposed butt-cheek and kneaded it lovingly.

"It is cold tonight. Let's warm you up. Stand up, remove your heels, and then sit down in the chair." For a moment Li was confused, but turned around and saw he had placed a heavy old wooden chair in front of the stove. The hot plates had been turned on to full power. He had a coil of rope in his other hand. She knew what was coming.

Without any ceremony, her arms and waist were tied securely to the chair. Her ankles were bound together, with a length of rope running around the stove's handle as a makeshift pulley. Li knew that Master was beastly strong for his deceptively lithe build. In his grip the rope might as well have been cemented into the wall. As he pulled on his end, her legs were lowered inexorably over the hot plates.

The pain felt far away at first, an itching burn at the base of her heels. He pulled a little more, and the hot plates got closer.

"I told you during practice that you miss that note." He said while slowly feeding the rope towards himself.

"You did, Master." Despite herself, she tried to fight it. The muscles of her legs strained outwards. As toned and slim as she was, she lacked the strength to fight both him and the pulley effect. Her feet lowered, and the burning itch started to sear.

"Did I tell you practice that refrain more?"

"Yes Master." She huffed as she tried to control herself.

"Did you?"

"N-no Master."

"Why not?"

"Please forgive this slut, she was tired!" He gave the rope some slack just as tears started to well up in her eyes.

"It was your debut tonight, Li. Your first solo performance at the orchestra and you had promised me it would be perfect. I and every member of orchestra, every member of the audience, knows you screwed up. Because you were tired." He pulled on the rope again, bringing her feet a fraction of an inch from the hot plate. The tension would not budge in his iron grip.

"Yes Master, this slave failed you. This whore failed herself. This cum-bucket deserves this, Master." Satisfied with her reply, he carefully measured her reactions, timing when to raise, and when to lower. Close enough and long enough to make her sob, to make tears trail from her eyes and splash onto the tile floor, to make her cry for forgiveness again and again...but just never enough to actually cook her flesh. In the short breaks between roastings, he slapped an ice wrap around her feet, cooling them and making sure that she would not be allowed to have any measure of adaptation to the punishment.

Fifteen minutes later, he was satisfied. Her heels felt charred, but it was just pain and there were no blisters or burns. She had expended every ounce of effort her legs could afford in her vain attempt to resist. He shut off the plates and untied her. After allowing Li a minute to relieve herself in the bathroom, he grabbed her firmly by the scruff of her neck and half-dragged her into the main bedroom and positioned her in front of a full-length mirror.

"Position two." Li immediately complied, standing with feet shoulder width apart, hands behind her back and clasping her elbows. With some measure of annoyance, he undid the last of the catches to her dress and tossed it aside. "Look at yourself." He pointed at her reflection, "Don't take your eyes away, and the only thing you are going to think about is your position. You are a slave, Li. You are a piece of property I own. You do not stop in a task when you are tired, or bored, or want to do something else. Is that clear?"

"Yes Master." He nodded and left her to her punishment. She was alone with her reflection, a five-foot-and-some-change Chinese woman with tear-streaked mascara running down her face, whose breasts didn't really belong to her. Even her body wasn't truly hers. Before they had met, Xiaolian had a certain pleasant plumpness to her. Not unhealthy by any measure, but she had longed to emulate the magazine covers and advertisements.

A few months after she had submitted to him, she had commented to Master how much she envied a certain porn star's physique, not simply incredibly slim, but also with a good muscle tone without any bulk. His reply was simple, "You will have that." And by God did he see to it that she would! Every morning saw her doing an incrementally intensive workout, and her diet could only be called Palaeolithic. Her will broke one day, and she binged on an entire custard pie. Overcome by shame, she resorted to shoving her fingers down her throat. Master had caught her in the act. It was the only time she had ever seen him truly angry. He could become annoyed or irritated as much as any man she had met, but that was an anger that only cooled after he had caned her to the point of scarring.

"If you want to look like that, Li," He had growled between strikes, "Then you will earn it. Otherwise it has no value." At the time, she thought that the horrid taste of vomit was already a high enough price to pay, but dared not say a word. That was a lesson that had stuck with her. Even glancing at a pastry or some other confection made her skin crawl at the memory of her caning.

As much as she tried to stay focused on her punishment, a near-meditative reciting of her status, her mind kept straying to her last orgasm. The more she tried to push the memory out, the harder it fought to take the centre position of her attention. It had been an exquisite experience. He had kept her on edge for hours, playing off pleasure and torture, teasing and indulging, before allowing her that sweet, sweet release. Without even realising it, she had closed her eyes and was gyrating her hips slowly. That was how he found her.

"I can't take my eyes off of you for a minute." He had a warm smile. Li knew she wasn't in trouble yet.

She returned the smile without raising her eyes, "This is an unrepentant whore. She cannot help herself, Master."

"It is time for dinner." She obediently made her way to the kitchen and served the stew she had prepared in a slow cooker before the concert. One serving went into a plate, another into a plastic bowl. Carrying the plate carefully in both hands, she brought the plate to the dining room and placed it before Master. As was their protocol, she then moved to a corner of the room in his field of view, facing the walls, and stood there with her hands in front of her, head bowed, waiting to be called. She was still stark naked and was worried that she might have lost clothing privileges after the night's performance.

About half way through the meal she heard his voice again. "Attend." It was a simple command that allowed her to leave her corner and kneel by his side. Usually it was to refill his drink, or add spice or sauce. Tonight it was a different kind of service he desired. "Under the table, mouth only."

Using her teeth, she opened his fly and pulled his boxers aside. His meat flopped out and she helped herself to a generous mouthful. Working strictly with her mouth and tongue as ordered, she kept her hands balled into fists, pressed into the floor between her knees. She felt his salty cock grow in her mouth. She blew it out and let it flop on her face as she playfully licked the underside, and worked down the base to his balls. She happily nuzzled into them, slowly drawing her tongue along the sack, enjoying the texture, revelling in his aroma.

"You may play with yourself." His voice came from above, "You will not orgasm." Releasing her fists, she eagerly stroked at her labia, teasing herself as she worked upwards to her clit. All the while she did not neglect her duty to him. Soon enough he was full and rigid, an unyielding staff which at that moment she would have done anything in the world to have inside her.

"Enough. Come out and get on the table." This was new. With great reluctance she stopped and climbed out from under the table. Master had moved the plate and cutlery aside and tapped the hefty oak dining table. "On your back. Legs apart." She clambered up and positioned herself as commanded. "Give me a show, my little toy." She slid her hands down to her clit, and enthusiastically stroked herself in large, rough circles. He sat back in his chair, sipped at his drink without letting his eyes wonder from her exhibition. Her breathing steadily increased, her hips writhed, her hands worked more vigorously. He drained his glass, put it aside, and then pried her wrists aside. He gorged himself with his tongue, slid his fingers into her, and deftly found her g-spot.

The anticipation of the entire day had built up to this. Even in the midst of her violin performance, she couldn't stop her imagination straying to this moment. The stimulation pushed her to the finish line in record time, "Please please please, oh please Master! Let this whore cum! Let this little fucking whore cum!" Her toes curled and back arched as she fought to hold herself back, while every fibre of her being screamed "Forward!" A vein protruded from the side of her head she strained with all her might to keep herself under control. Fractions of a second before the point of no return, he whipped his hands over hers and pinned them to the table. She bucked, desperate to rub her throbbing clit against anything.

"What's this, my pet? You are still wearing your public piercings." He nodded towards her breasts, "Go to the main bedroom and put in the rings with the bells."

"No no, please Master! No!" He sat back with his half-smile.

"And when you've done you will eat from your bowl, and then you will clean the dishes."

"Fuck!" Li screamed out in frustration. His smile vanished. "Yes, Master." She said meekly before rolling off the table.

#

She stood at the basin, water steaming up into her face as she washed the slow cooker. He owned a dishwasher, but had never used it. Keeping everything spotless was among her duties. The tiny bells on her teats rang softly as her breasts jiggled to her vigorous scrubbing. Her long black hair dangled down, the tips dipping into the water from time to time, not that she cared at the moment. She was angry, although she would never admit that it was because of him. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she did not hear his footsteps behind her.

He glided his hands over her shoulders, and pulled her into him, pressing the back of her head into his chest. Despite everything, she felt herself relaxing. It was so rare that they actually just lay together, or held each other in an embrace. She wasn't even allowed in the main bedroom unless she was either cleaning or performing a task. The same went for his study; she had to kneel at the threshold and gently knock at the door if she required his attention. At bedtime, she almost always slept in a small, separate bedroom with a single bed whose mattress may as well have been made of concrete. If she had been really disobedient, she would be put in the cage for the night. It was a wrought iron affair hardly larger than she was, with just a thin layer of sawdust at the bottom as bedding. She hated the cage. It was in the garage where it got bitterly cold in the winter, and now that she had lost clothing privileges, it would be nothing short of arctic.