Claiming Kenna Ch. 03

**Warning**: a bit darker, and more violent non-con. So, beware all ye who enter here, and without further ado....

Ch. 3

Jarrod looked over her body as she slept, debating placing a hand around her throat to see if she would tense. She'd be waking up soon, but this one had a way of making him impatient even as she did nothing but breathe.

He'd restrained her already, leaving the leads lax so that she could sit up and assess her predicament. He wanted her afraid. Compliant.

He'd been serious about teaching her manners. It would be up to her how she wanted to learn--easy or hard. And Jarrod had his preference. She'd pissed him off by not giving into his demands--publicly nonetheless, and she was going to pay for that one day. But for now, he would take time to explain the rules, and see how submissive she was willing to be.

She had already been such a good slut, squirming pleasurably under his touch. He thought of the way her body arched as his hand came down on her ass...the incredible way she arched and bowed. With patience, she could be perfect.

Her head was starting to totter on the table, and Jarrod took a steadying breath. Kenna was about to get a proper introduction.

*******

"Good morning, slut."

Kenna had only just opened her eyes, and already his voice was in her head, rooting her in place. She'd put together that he'd bought her after the auction, after frantically pounding on the glass of her display case, begging"What did he write? What does it say?!" Finally a voice came from the speaker above.

"Looks like the lucky girl gets to go home with the boss. Better sit your ass down...while you still can." Then laughter.

She was laying flat on a hard, raised surface where she could make out the four corners of a small room. Concrete. Kenna breathed as deeply as her panic would allow. She could feel her wrists enclosed in some kind of handcuffs--metal--and she was too scared to look down and find out more."Maybe if I just stay still, he'll go away." The voice was small and naive, and Kenna tried to shut it out. He was going to hurt her... She closed her eyes, willing herself to block it all out. Anything that was about to happen.

"The appropriate response is: 'Good morning, Sir.' Want to give that a try?"

Kenna blinked several times, focusing just on the ceiling above her. If there was a window...even a barred one...maybe she could get out. Scream for help.Something.

Then, she saw the blur of him move in her periphery, shooting up fast from wherever he was sitting. She couldn't help but pull away, only to have her limbs caught by the binding. It seemed her ankles were tethered too, and she could only pull them up part-way into her body. In that instant, Jarrod was above her, gripping his fingers into the back of her hair. He wore an expression of unamused anger, and Kenna winced just to have him shout down at her.

"You will speak when spoken to. Understood?"

Stupidly, mutely, she nodded her head, and he yanked back.

"Try. again."

This time, she managed to squeak, all the while nodding her head more frantically. She didn't think his fingers could get any tighter, and pain cinched her eyes closed.

"Fear makes people stupid, Kenna, so I am beingexceptionally patient. Would you like to find out what happens when my patience runs out?"

No, no. She shook her head.

He slammed his hand down on the table beside her and she flinched. "Speak, slut."

"No!" She realized in a frenzy that he might take that as refusal, and more words came tumbling out after the first. "I-I mean. I didn't--I don't want you to lose your patience!"

"Hmm...that's better." He was instantly softer, running his fingers over her cheek. Still, he kept her pinned like a fly on a slide, if not by the restraints, then by the bar of his arm on either side of her. "But you're forgetting something..."

He waited expectantly, and Kenna searched his face for an answer. She didn't know what he wanted, and her breath came faster. She was trembling now.

Mercifully, he remitted. "No,Sir. Yes,Sir. Please, Master." His posture shifted and his hands moved down her neck to her collar bone. In following his fingers, she found that her silken dress had been replaced by something beige and formless. Her legs were entirely exposed beneath the short cut, and she wondered if he had redressed her, feeling violated by the thought. "Either title will be acceptable."

Kenna worked hard to repress a grimace.Master. How fucking disgusting.

"Ah!" He slapped her lightly.

"Guard your thoughts, slut. You should be grateful I let you speak at all."

She lifted her hand to comfort the slight stinging on her cheek, but couldn't quite reach. She thought shehad guarded her expression, but apparently not well enough. "What--" she struggled to frame the question. "What's going to happen?

"I've already told you." He stepped around her, brushing her skin as he moved. "I'm going to teach you manners." He stopped in front of a little, metal table that reminded her of trips to the dentist's office, thankfully absent any malicious-looking tools. Instead, there was a small tin cup, dented in places and filled half-way with water. Beside it, a single portion of bread. Lastly, and folded in a crude square was a green blanket--one of the itchy military types which looked like it hadn't seen use since Vietnam. "These items each represent something. Understand the symbolism? Need a hint?"

"Um..." Kenna reeled with fear and disorientation, feeling all the while as if she were struggling to surface from a nightmare. Still, she found herself looking over the items again, lined from left to right in front of him. "Food. Water..." She hesitated over the last, before settling on an answer. "Shelter."

"Good." He seemed surprised, praising her with gentle touches on the inside of one thigh. "Human needs. The most basic necessities." Then he paced to one side of the room, forcing her to turn her head to follow him. He stepped out of her periphery before reappearing again. "Can you guess who controls all of that for you now, Kenna?" He wore a shit-eating grin that made Kenna wish she could lunge off the table and smack him. She wasn't going to dignify that with a response.

"I do expect an answer." He prompted. Kenna could only glare. She would rather fucking starve than give him the answer he wanted, to feed whatever power-trip fetish he was having. Jarrod only nodded, unbothered when she refused. He continued. "Food." With the flick of a wrist, he sent the bread onto the floor, where he flattened it with a shoe. "Water." A clink against the cement sounded as the metal cup tumbled leaving a darker grey where the concrete absorbed the water. "Shelter..."

She hadn't known what to expect with the shitty green blanket, when in another step, he was in front of her, both hands clasped around the neck of that flour-sack dress she was wearing. It was only a half-second recognition, and she knew what he was going to do. Kenna tried to press her chest against her arms, to stop the fabric from ripping. But, he split the cheap material down the middle, exposing her collarbone, then her breasts.

"Stop!" she cried, watching inches of skin revealed. He wasn't looking at her face though, disinterested in her pleas. Her breasts were bare under the little dress, and she felt even more naked knowing he hadn't allowed her a bra. Her eyes traveled down to find her lower half equally uncovered. Even as her cheeks went hot, she still shivered as he tore through the last inches of fabric.

With a sweep, he took the now-destroyed dress down like a jacket, only leaving it attached around her wrists where it caught around her handcuffs. Kenna knew her restraints were too tight, she couldn't cover herself, but shame demanded she try, still finding herself woefully exposed. He seemed to enjoy the way she wiggled, trying unsuccessfully to cross her legs.

He gave an appreciative nod, then stepped behind her, whispering beside her neck. "You could've kept the dress for just a little respect. Now look at you."

Fuck. She was embarrassed--ashamed. It was cold in the little cement room, and her nipples perked traitorously. She tried again to pull her legs up--her arms in. She was out of ideas when she already had something new to worry about.

His hands were working at the edge of the table, adjusting something. She could see the length of chain connecting her to the table shortening. A claustrophobic sense of dread filled her chest, and for the first time since waking up in the concrete room, she felt tears filling her eyes.Shit, she wanted to beg him to let her go, but she could hear the words before they left her mouth, sounding small and stupid. So, she let the tears slide down her face, scared as he secured the chains just a few inches from each edge.

He moved towards her legs, and she watched mutely as her knees straightened, pulled straight against the table. At least he left a little lax, so she could place her ankles together. Her heartbeat was loud and slow in her ears, accentuating the moment with sickening clarity. He controlled everything. How she moved, where she sat.If she breathed. She vaguely wondered how he was going to kill her, when it was time. Strangulation? Kenna struggled to keep her breathing even now, knowing any moment she could be sobbing. He ran a soft hand down her neck, gathering tears on his trail.

"Hmm. It seems you're learning after all, Kenna. Scared?"

The question was a trick. A test. She knew how she was supposed to answer. What would happen if she didn't? If she left off the little appellation? He'd forcibly stripped her and chained her immobile to a table already. Still, she was hesitant, and she opened her mouth, closing it again. He waited, but she didn't mistake his allowance for patience. Maybe if she said it fast...one word"Yessir"...or maybe if she just muttered that last part...

She didn't have more time to think though, because a grunt of displeasure sounded in his throat and the first word was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "Yes!" She forced the next. "...Sir." It came out as a whisper, and she certainly hadn't looked him in the eye. When he stepped closer, Kenna wasn't sure whether she should be afraid of his temper or his touch.

He tilted her head up with a finger. "Now that wasn't so hard, hmm?"

"Go fuck yourself." She thought, but didn't say. At least that question was rhetorical. If she had to call him "Sir", she was only going to speak when she had to.

"Now, you know how to speak respectfully. Let's go over a few other rules."

Kenna had run the bout of mental exhaustion. He'd only just begun, and she didn't feel like she could take much more of these mind games. How many more of these "rules" were there?

"I expect my commands to be followed immediately. So, if I say 'Speak', you say...?"

"Yes, Sir." The words tasted bitter.

"Good."

"And if I say 'Sit", you..."

Her voice was flat as she answered. "Sit....Sir."

"Mm."

"Lay back." It was a command. She was supposed to. But she felt so fixed in place-- already vulnerable, naked with no way to defend herself.Lay back. What was he going to do?

"Don't make me repeat myself." She was starting to see that cold anger, always just beneath the surface, and she reclined her body. Inch by inch until she felt her hair falling back off her shoulders, and more, until her head rested on the hard surface.

"Good girl."Fuck his voice was warm--even soothing, and she steeled herself for another assault. He stepped around her, ogling her breasts, her hips. The place between her legs, now completely bare. Anxious tears were running into her hairline. Kenna closed her eyes to pull in a breath. Before she opened them, his hand was on her breast, and she gasped inwardly, shocked though she knew to expect it."Shh, shh." he shushed her gently, and she wanted to kill him. She wanted to break every finger in that hand. Stab him in the voice box, so he'd never make that condescending sound again. "Very nice."

She'd never felt so revolted to be complimented. Then, he spoke again. "Open your legs."

Her heart stopped. Her muscles clenched, pulling her legs together tighter. No. She couldn't. She couldn't. She was shaking her head in tiny motions.No, no, no, no, no.

"This is a good time to talk about the word 'no'.You don't get to tellme no. You do as you're told." There was no mercy on his voice. Kenna heard her own shaking in the rattle of her chains. A little whimper was rising in her throat.

"Open. your legs."

"I-I-I can't. Sir. I can't."

"Hmm." He moved around her, so he was standing at her feet. "That sounded suspiciously like a 'no'." He was doing something to the table. Flipping a latch--pulling the chains around her ankles tight. Now, there was no more lax, and her feet were spread, but she buckled her knees inward, trying to protect her most delicate parts.

"Wait. Don't--" She half-propped herself up on her elbows to get a better view. He pulled something from under the table, and wrestling one of her thighs, he managed to wrap something around it--a black strap connected to a rod. Soon, her other leg was similarly clad, attached by the black rod between her legs. "Stop!"

"You don't give commands, though I doubt you could think otherwise."

"Please!"

His hands were on the metal rod, adjusting it and pulling it out longer, so her legs were farther apart.

"No!"

He utterly ignored her, and she laid her head back on the table, shaking her head. He was still working. Pulling other strange things from the side of the table. Kenna tried to wiggle her legs enough to evade the bar keeping them apart, but when she did, he only forced the bar to widen, and her legs with it. She felt the lips of her pussy open, and the cold air against her entrance. The fucking indignity of it made her squeak.

Something was being mounted between her legs, and she tried to push her body upwards by the soles of her feet to avoid it.

"No," he chastised, and something stung the inside of her thigh. She gasped, looking to find a stick with a black leather loop at the end in his hand. She tried to pull her leg inward, to protect it. "No," he repeated, with another snap of the leather.

"Ow!"

He continued on, utterly disinterested in her protests. Several minutes passed, as he moved, touched, and adjusted. Finally, she got the courage to look at what he was doing. Mounted there, on some kind of stand was a vibrator, a heavy wand plugged in somewhere below. But that wasn't all. He was holding a fucking boxcutter.

She inhaled to scream, and his hand clasped around her mouth. The high pitch steeped around his fingers, and he pulled her hair back. "No. Enough of that. Stop."

Her tears were rolling onto his hand, and she spoke a muffled 'Please,' into his palm.

"Now, then.Shh...I don't have to use this." He pressed the flat of the handle against her side, and she squealed, tensing away in anticipation of the cut which never came. "You want to be a good little slut for me again? Hmm?"

Kenna searched his face for meaning, blinking away tears. His hand was still over her mouth, until she steadied, and he stepped back in between her feet. Little sniffing sounds pervaded the air, and Kenna felt oddly embarrassed by their juvenility.

"You told me no." He paced in front of her. "How many times do you think I should make you scream 'yes' as punishment?"

Scream yes? He wanted her to...his words were in her head."Be a good little slut."

Her eyes went to the vibrator, to his face, and back again.Fuck. It was intimidating. But it wasn't exactly the...device...she was worried about. She didn't know whether she could. All she had ever used were cheap, battery powered vibrators you could buy next to the condoms. She was an easy orgasm away from escaping the boxcutter. But...it took her a long time--mentally and physically to get herself there. Kenna wasn't sure he would be that patient. He wanted her to shout "Yes!" to scream like she liked it. She imagined he would make her say other things. Call him Master, scream his name. Part of her wanted to take the blade.

He trailed the blade lightly over her stomach, past her hips. "I'm waiting..."

She swallowed, trying to skirt her punishment. "Once."

Swiftly, the blade was replaced with that little whippy stick thing, and the leather loop stung the inside of each thigh once. She hissed.

"Wrong. Try again."

"Twice." Four alternating smacks this time. "Three!" Five smacks just to her left thigh. Kenna whined piteously.

"Hmm...too bad you tried to cheat your way out of your rightful punishment. I would have accepted three the first time. But..."

"I don't know!" She cried.

"Forgetting something?"

It took her a moment and a tilt of his head to clue her in. "Sir." she added.

"Better. How many times?" She was crying, staring at the ceiling. Scared. What if she didn't get the right answer?

"I don't know." The leather loop came down on her sex and illicited a scream."Ahh, fuck.Ahh." She couldn't close her legs against the pain, and she writhed on the table.

"How many?"

"F-f-five, Sir. Five."

He came to stand next to her, looking down as he stroked hair from her face. "Seems a little ambitious. But with patience, I'm sure we'll get there."

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

"Shall we begin? Hmm..."He set the boxcutter back in a drawer, clearly more amused by toying with her. As he stepped back towards her feet, she realized he was still wearing a dress shirt from the auction. He took the time to unbutton the sleeves, folding them upward.Fuck.

"Five orgasms? Of course...I remember how sensitive you are."

He was baiting her. Kenna tightened her jaw. Smart remarks were going to get her nowhere. She could hate this asshole in her private time. "Private time chained to his fucking table." her brain chimed.

"Let's play a game..."

Oh my God.

"While you enjoy yourself, I'm going to ask some questions. I want honest answers, Kenna. Understand?"

Kenna started to nod her head when she remembered: she was supposed to say 'Yes, Sir.' Instead, she stayed silent, vying only to nod in acknowledgement.

Snap. That little loop of leather stung.

"If you want to make this a more painful experience, I'm happy to oblige. I've already made you cum once tonight...in public no less, slut. We can just skip straight to the beating."

Beating? Goddamn. Kenna's survival sense must have been replaced at some point by sarcasm, because she kept finding new lines. Lines he was willing to cross. Lines she was afraid of. Lines she didn't ever want to go anywhere near. "I--" she began "don't want that..."

"No, you don't." He pulled a mocking hiss in through his teeth, shaking out one hand as if it stung. Kenna imagined he took pleasure in that sting, as long as it meant someone else's suffering.

"Now...you'll answer truthfully, yes?"

"Yes, Sir." Kenna had a feeling the word 'Yeah' was about to be lost from her vocabulary.

With that, she had nothing better to do than watch him move closer, adjusting that plastic wand until it rested at her entrance. It was only slightly cold, but Kenna shuddered. It felt so clinical. Maybe she could just pretend she was at the gynecologist's and fake a few, really good moans. People did that. She could do that. Get this over with quickly.

A light buzzing began, and Kenna became more convinced of her little scheme. From that huge, plastic wand, she'd really expected...well...more.