The Rebellious Slave Ch. 06byHisPet21©
To my readers: As always, thanks for all the support! It is so much more fun to write when you know your work is appreciated! Please let me know what you think and, be warned, while I plan on plenty of "happy sex" eventually, there is quite a bit of sexual violence, especially in this chapter. Consider yourselves duly informed.
Kara, still restrained and utterly filled, knew she wasn't thinking rationally. If only Lord Arlington would drag her to a cell and leave her there, she could think through what had just happened and get a grip on herself. But Arlington was an experienced interrogator and knew better than to let his prey regroup shortly after a session. If he left Kara alone now, all his work would be undone. Instead, he circled the girl, looking at her face for some indication of how she had handled the stress of the evening. It was clear from the tension in her body and the way she was breathing, a desperate attempt to remain calm, that he hadn't broken her yet. She was still fighting him and his advances, even if she didn't know it. Yes, she'd given into some of his demands, but not because he'd commanded her. She'd done it solely to avoid the pain and humiliation he threatened, and Arlington was interested in a slave that feared and respected him, not merely his whip. Any fool with a whip could induce fear; Arlington wanted to inspire it by his mere presence. That was key.
No, he mused, she hadn't submitted at all. To assume such would be an amateur's mistake, the kind that could earn you a knife in the back and a runaway slave. The girl was afraid, but still very much in control of her feelings. She'd carefully considered when she would obey and when she wouldn't, in order to ascertain some combination of dignity, by refusing him, and comfort, by obeying him. She'd spent the session treating him like an external force, detached from her and inhuman, a natural disaster she had to deal with rather than a human being to interact with. But it would take time, and Arlington was grateful for that. Slaves who submitted too easily, for some strange reason, disgusted him. He sought to subdue a proud, strong woman rather than a piteous weakling who would sob uncontrollably from the horror of simply being forced to sit in a cell or take a light beating. Kara, though not as strong as Tamius, was no weakling and Arlington looked forward to the process of breaking and rebuilding her. She was a good choice.
What was she thinking? Arlington paused over her, watching her brilliant blue eyes flick upward toward his face and then back down again. He'd have to calm her down in his presence if he wanted the session to have a favorable impact. Allowing her to calm herself, in the solitude of a cell, would only teach her self-reliance and strengthen her resolve. The last thing he needed was a slave who would submit graciously in the bedroom, only to rekindle her hatred and defiance in the comfort of her cell. Partial control over a slave wasn't control at all. "Eyes up here, slave," Arlington demanded, and her eyes met his, but they were cold and clouded. "Tell me, do you feel as if you've been satisfactorily dealt with?"
He intentionally made the question difficult. To answer "yes" was to acknowledge that she deserved Lord Arlington's violence, to say "no" would imply that he'd have to dole out another, more horrific punishment. He wanted to make her choose, very obviously, between dignity and comfort. Which ever she chose, it didn't matter. Arlington would work it to his advantage. But Kara, clearly unwilling to commit either way, stared at the ceiling above her as if she hadn't heard the question. Arlington couldn't tolerate that.
"Eyes up here," he demanded, but Kara had already begun to regain some calm following the session and was trying her hand at outright resistance once more. She didn't close her eyes, but refused to look up at him, and turned as if the fire place were more interesting. Perhaps she'd like a closer look, Arlington considered, but changed his mind. He could introduce her to the brands later. Right now, he'd rather she not be moved from her position on the floor, perhaps because she looked so lovely gagged, her holes filled, and her pretty little face red. "I'll ask once more," he warned. "Eyes on me, Kara." This time, she looked up, surprised he had used her name. Arlington intended to use it only when she had angered him, so that she'd learn to associate the sound of her own name with pain and be more fully broken down because of it. It was a trick he had learned while in Bremmington, and it worked surprisingly well. He'd largely referred to his victims by their registration numbers, and had only called them by their names prior to a torture session. Eventually, he could greet a prisoner with "Good Morning, Mr. Garrett," and the prisoner would be on his knees in seconds, spilling his guts. The girl may eventually figure out what he was up to, but it would take her time. In the meanwhile...
Once more, Arlington knelt in front of Kara and gripped her astonishing locks in his hand, yanking her face up violently. Such pretty lips, he mused, tracing them with his fingers. The anger and revulsion in Kara's eyes intensified, and he chuckled. "So soft," he told her, excited by the reaction. "They'll feel wonderful against my cock, but I'm not sure your ready for my cum yet." Reaching down between her legs, his eyes never leaving the slave's, Arlington gripped the tails of the flogger in her pussy and yanked sharply, feeling a shudder of pain run up through the girl's body and extend through his fingertips as the handle was ripped out. He then reached down and similarly removed the flogger in her ass, watching her physically convulse from the pain, the skin underneath his hands shaking as she violently bucked. Positively beautiful.
"So, you still won't answer me, Kara?" Arlington asked, the girl's eyes newly wide with terror. "No matter. Your silence is plenty an answer in itself, for if you had been properly dealt with, you wouldn't dare ignore my question. Pity. We could have finished the evening on a much more pleasant note." The girl's eyes were all too readable, as she reached into the back of her mind, contemplating what would be done with her.
Lord Arlington moved behind his acquisition, so that he stood out of her line of sight, and pulled up on a lever embedded in the wall. Once more, the chains above her head were drawn further into the ceiling, and Kara found herself on her tip toes, extended like a star. Arlington could see the girl physically tremble, from fear or perhaps the strain on her legs, and thought it exquisite. Once she was properly positioned, he stood behind Kara, and decided to explore her body further. He ran a hand along each arm, feeling the muscles tense underneath her skin. Next, he wrapped a hand gently around her throat and squeezed carefully, feeling a sudden increase in Kara's heart rate through his fingers. The fear was palpable, and positively delicious. Women were very sensitive about their necks, after all. Lingering for a little while longer, Arlington finally ended with a caress of the girl's rounded ass, then stepped backward.
He always carried a whip on his belt, and threateningly snapped it so that it made a loud crack in the air. The girl jumped at the sound, unable to look behind her and observe the source. In a panic, Arlington's slave tugged on her restraints, uselessly struggling. And, ignoring the muffled pleas from under the girl's gag, Arlington snapped his wrist artfully and struck her. The first stroked was long and prominent, leaving a welt from left shoulder to right ass cheek. Lord Arlington was practiced in the use of the whip though, and was careful to leave only marks that could heal, and certainly no cuts. He had paid a high price for the girl, and had no intention of leaving irreparable damage. The pain had definitely left an impression though, for the little slave's legs caved, so that she was no longer standing and was merely held up by her arms. "Stand straight for me, Kara," Arlington insisted, prodding her midback with the handle of his whip. "I know that you can." And, surprisingly, she stood. Arlington made the second strike parallel to the first, figuring it unwise to mark the same patches of skin twice over. There was an audible groan from under the gag, and Arlington watched as Kara held tight to the chains above her, to steady herself. The next three lashes were given in quick succession, the sounds from under Kara's gag a mix of surprised and terrified screams. And then, he heard it, a stifled little sob. If there were tears, he would stop. An involuntary show of defeat was good enough for their first evening. He listened closely, but was unsatisfied. The sniffles were barely audible. It wasn't good enough.
Lord Arlington snapped the whip in the air once more, just to frighten the girl, and she boiled over. The sobs were much louder now, and with a triumphant grin on his face, Arlington moved back in front of his slave so that he could see her. She was very distressed, and ashamed that she had succumbed to crying in front of him. But Arlington wanted to reinforce the response. To show that the tears were appropriate, he put away his whip in front of her, then caressed her cheek with the rolled up device, enjoying that she cringed. Carefully, he wiped a single tear from her face and licked it off his finger, intending to horrify the girl just as much as he intended to satisfy his own sadistic cravings and revel in her tears.
"Perfect," he cooed gently, taking her face in his hands. "I think I can safely assume that you'll be more receptive to my inquires in the future." Though it wasn't a question, the girl nodded, and Arlington smiled, thrilled. "But we aren't quite finished yet," he told her. "As I've said, I like my girls decorated, so before I put you away for the evening, we'll have to have your nipples and clit pierced." A fresh wave of terror washed over the girl's face, and Arlington decided she'd had enough, but would never-the-less need to learn to submit to his desires, even if they frightened her. "There, now, no need to get riled up." Arlington gently stroked her hair. "It won't be very painful, and if you're still, it will be over quickly."
Arlington returned to the wooden chest below the love seat and withdrew what looked like a smaller, lacquered wooden box. Inside, Kara could see a series of needles, varying in width and length, secured by tiny strips of cloth. Arlington removed a long, thin one from the case and set it on a coal in the fireplace until it glowed orange. Then, he deliberately picked it up by the coolest end and approached Kara, who wriggled wildly. "Be still," Arlington demanded, displeased. "If you are not still, I can pierce your pussy lips while I am at it. You'll willingly subject yourself to whatever I demand, do you understand?" Kara stilled and nodded, her eyes still afraid, but complacent. She'd decided to accept the ordeal. Good.
It was painful, and the girl cringed under Arlington's grasp as he inserted the needle through her left nipple, first pinching the surrounding skin to make the process easier. Her breathing came in sharp, deep little bursts. It pleased Arlington greatly to feel her shudder and twinge beneath his hands. He'd have loved to fuck her, but she was just starting to soften up to him, and an assault of such repulsion would surely awaken new resolve in his little slave. But Arlington was a patient man. He could wait for Kara, and he had another girl who could take care of him later in the evening. Arlington allowed the hot metal of the needle to sit in her nipple for a moment before carefully removing a silver nipple ring, encrusted with blue and green gems, from his cloak. Quickly, he replaced the piercing needle with the ring and moved on to Kara's right nipple, pinching the skin and poking through it.
Though afraid, the girl relented to his touch, at least until he positioned a stool in front of her and sat down to work on her clit. The most sensitive spot on a woman's body, the clit would experience the most pain at his hands, and Kara was sensitive to that fact. Her thighs trembled with effort as she tried to close her legs, but the spreader was unrelenting. Arlington clicked his tongue disapprovingly, and decided to punish the girl for even that small resistance. He would work up her clit before the piercing, and only then would he puncture it. Gently, he began to stroke her clit and watched as it swelled involuntarily, heat building between his girl's legs. When she moistened against her will, Arlington pushed back the hood of her clit with this fingers, and gently teased the exposed nub, which flushed red at the attention. Lord Arlington thought he could hear the girl cry, "Please, don't!" But the gag served its purpose well, and the begging wasn't an effective deterrent as he poised the needle against her soft flesh, before punching it through. The girl writhed under him, and Arlington finished his work, replacing the needle with a third jeweled ring.
Once done, Arlington sat back in his arm chair and simply watched his little acquisition tremble, tears rolling over her face. He would allow her to calm in his presence for a while, before taking her down from the chains holding her. He would introduce the girl to her cell only after the adrenaline in her veins had died down and exhaustion had set in. It would be best if she fell asleep immediately afterwards; it would be problematic if she had the energy to think through her situation prior to going to bed. She was unglued, and Arlington intended to keep it that way. As the sweat beads along Kara's naked form glimmered in the firelight, Arlington lit a cigar and started on some overdue paperwork. It could be a while before the slave girl came down from her high of terror, and he was a busy man.
It was completely and utterly dark. Kara had hoped her eyes would adjust, but there was no light to adjust to. There were no windows in her cell, and the door was sealed along its edges, so that no light shown under or around the door. And what a sinister door it was. From the outside, it looked like the door to a bank vault: metallic and utterly huge, with a coded lock that was bulky and intimidating.
After tormenting Kara, Arlington had taken her down from the living room wall, blindfolded her (probably so that she wouldn't learn the layout of his home), and led her down hallways and up stairs to an interesting set of rooms. It had taken them quite a while to reach their destination and Kara had concluded she was in a mansion, not surprising given her master's high rank. Along the way, Kara had nearly collapsed several times, and each time she was caught by Lord Arlington prior to hitting the floor. He had been gentle with her, but she did not confuse the gentleness with kindness. It was in Arlington's best interest to contrast cruelty with comfort, so that he would become both feared and relied upon. Kara, as a medic's apprentice, had taken quite a few lessons in psychology. She didn't have as much training in the area as an interrogator would, but she understood the basics.
When Arlington finally removed Kara's blindfold, she'd found herself in a comfortable room decorated much like the earlier living space. It also had a fireplace, bookshelves, a love seat, and some arm chairs. But there were also obvious differences. There had been a large television screen taking up the wall above the fireplace, a wooden "X" like the one in the auction room, two small metal cages, and a chair in the corner with arm and wrist restraints. In the back of the room were two narrow hallways, one leading left and the other right. Arlington had guided her down the left most hallway into a second room, and Kara had immediately tried bolting. The room looked like a torture chamber. There was a bondage table with an adjustable back, and a wooden cabinet of sinister looking instruments. There had been chains dangling from the ceiling and a wall of whips, crops, floggers, and other horrible devices. Kara had seen some other machines and pieces of furniture she didn't recognize. Certain Arlington was not finished with her, Kara had tried to push her way back into the first room, but was held tight.
"Relax, pet," Arlington had told her, soothing her as best he could. "We're done for tonight. I intend to put you away, that's all." True to his word, Arlington had led Kara to what appeared to be a bank vault which, once opened, turned out to be the door to her cell. Inside, it was completely bare. There weren't any windows. There weren't any comforts, such as blankets or pillows. Hell, there weren't even any chains. There were just stone walls, a stone ceiling, and a stone floor with a grate at its center, probably for waste. Uncuffing his girl, Arlington had tossed her casually inside. "This cell is just temporary, of course," he had told her. "Once you learn proper subservience to me, you'll be given basic comforts and perhaps, one day, you'll be allowed a room with a window." And with a loud bang, the door was shut and locked.
Kara was grateful that, though she still wore ankle and wrist cuffs, they were not attached and she could freely move both her arms and legs. She first tried removing the hideous gag wrapped around her head, but it wasn't merely strapped on. There was some sort of locking mechanism at the back, and Kara couldn't remove it in spite of her best efforts, which was a shame. Her jaw ached from screaming and biting down on the rubber ball, and her mouth was constantly drying out. She swallowed a few times to try and moisten it. Having failed at her first task, Kara decided to explore her cell further. She couldn't see, but she could feel, and found that the stone was warm, probably heated from below. Kara was grateful for that, given her nakedness. She supposed Arlington wouldn't want his slaves catching cold. Carefully crawling about her cell, Kara found it roughly five feet wide by five feet long, and when she stood, she could not reach the ceiling. This gave Kara the room to stretch out her sore muscles a bit.
But Kara's curiosity was mostly a distraction for the sadness welling up inside her. Her efforts exhausted, Kara found herself sobbing hideously and pounding her fists on the floor in fury. The tears were hot, and Kara allowed them to roll down her face and onto the floor, not bothering to wipe them away. No longer around Arlington, Kara felt free to cry as loudly as she wished until there were no more tears left to cry. How had it come to this? How could she have allowed Arlington to humiliate her like that, to make her cry in front of him? She remembered his smug face, right before he'd licked a tear from his finger, and revulsion swept through her.
Exhausted from her own sobbing, Kara reached behind her to feel the welts along her back, and shock hit her. The welts were raised and angry, but Kara could tell that the skin was intact and that the wounds would heal, probably within the week. Kara had been certain there was blood. Where the hell was it? Frantically, she felt along the skin some more, searching for the hot warmth of a fresh and bleeding cut, but there was none. She had been certain the skin was broken. How could she be so wrong?
Surprised, Kara thought back to the evening's events. Arlington had raped her with a few floggers and he'd whipped her five times, finishing up with a few piercings. And it occurred to Kara that, under different circumstances, those violations wouldn't have hurt her as badly as they had this evening, and certainly wouldn't have brought her to tears. The whipping hadn't left any permanent damage, and plenty of women in Calihistra got their clits pierced voluntarily. So why had Kara felt so violated? Why had the pain seemed so unbearable? Suddenly, Kara remembered Alyssa and her words from the auction room. Alyssa had said that Arlington was a master of fear, and did not rely too heavily on pain when dealing with a victim. She had called Arlington a "mind fucker." With a cold rage swelling up inside her, Kara realized that Arlington had defeated her primarily using fear. He'd used the sound of his whip to unsettle her, grinning whenever she became disturbed, making her look at him while he hurt her. He had intimidated her; the uncertainty and helplessness he had imposed on Kara had made the pain feel far worse than it actually was.