Dominated Heir 2 Ch. 06

Geralt leaned forward and pressed the wand to Sadie's backside and shocked her, long enough to bring a whimper.

What did the Master expect? A fucking joyful, toothy grin? I tried again, but Geralt only shocked Sadie again.

"Stop it!" I demanded, before reasoning that it would only add to the punishments.

"Of course, Sweetheart. He'll stop as soon as you smile," the Heir said in a tone that didn't hide his anger. But for what? would this keep going on?

The only thing that possibly caused this reaction had to have been what I'd said about his mother. If anything, I could rectify that and move on from this horrible game of tormenting Sadie.

Geralt zapped the petite slave again. Through the punishment, she endured. She didn't even cast Mr resentful glances, she simply looked downward in defeat.

I spoke quickly. "I'm sorry for mentioning your mother." I recoiled for fear of whether he might order Geralt to do next. What if the mention further angered the egotistical male?

A sardonic laugh came through the speaker. "I'm beginning to think you really hate Sadie. How about we give her a break."

Why did that possibility of a break bring even more dread. This was torture for both of us. I didn't even know what I did wrong. Nor could I make sense of why I genuinely wanted to rectify pissing him off.

It wasn't as though his prickish feelings were anything I cared about. If anything, I'd gotten sick of the excessive apologies I'd felt forced to repeat to my ex over the stupidest things. Yet, now I wanted to receive forgiveness for upsetting this Master.

"Please," I coaxed. "Forgive me." I made sure to plead to the camera.

A silence. Contemplation on his part, perhaps. Hopefully acceptance.

"Get on that fucking table," he spat.

Maybe not so much acceptance as I would have liked, but I scurried up to stand.

Geralt ordered Sadie to follow him to the dungeonous living area. Straight to the baluster where he clipped her collar, maintaining a side view of them.

I was hesitant to lift onto the tabletop if her punishment were to worsen anyway.

"Lay back and open your dress," the master ordered, stern.

I slowly untied the dress and lay back on the table. Already, Geralt began fucking Sadie in my periphery--a hard, body-slapping fucking.

"I want you to touch yourself as you watch him pound into her cunt just as hard as I'm going to pound into you in front of a room full of people."

Had he not forced me, I would have refused to look in the direction of Geralt and Sadie. But, in truth, I enjoyed seeing Sadie attached to the baluster as I had been. Only, I knew the Heir never fucked me that hard and fast. At least, not yet. And I doubted I could handle it if he ever did. She was petite, though. Too petite for the vigorous pounding that had her bobbing forward.

He purred into the earbud. "Touch yourself and let me know how much you want to be the one restrained to the center post and mercilessly fucked."

My hands weren't eager participants in this humiliation. To be watched by him as I was ordered to pleasure myself. Violated by being seen in such a private act. But I'd allowed plenty of the humiliation to occur already.

Had I been alone and safe from spying eyes, this would be too arousing to ignore. Not that ignoring it would be an option now. I had no choice but to be laid out with the thick dress open in the front and my right hand drifting between my legs.

"That's right," he said, "little fuck slave." Even if he tried to hide it, I heard the hitch of excitement as he spoke. Even the difference in his breathing could be heard. "Make yourself feel good wishing I was fucking you like that."

Sadie mewled, her short bob slightly swaying with every jolt forward. But she didn't dare fight or show so much as a wince.

I stroked that magical spot. Even with the residual soreness of all the recent fucking, I couldn't deny the craving of the pleasure elicited.

"Moan for me," he ordered, his own voice more eager. "Let me know how much you already miss me."

Had this disturbed man who'd coerced me into this position brainwashed me? I'd loved the way he fucked me, no matter how rough or humiliating. He'd always managed to bring out my enjoyment of the worst of our encounters, somehow pulling me in closer to his dark ways.

I could only imagine that loud slapping and roughness being me. Those rutting grunts were what he'd sound like. The wet sounds a friction between our bodies. And possibly whatever tormenting words he wished to speak in my ear, tickling my senses.

I did moan. This was part of the act, right. Just an act he could see. Whether I faked it or not, he didn't know. I acted like his slave for him, but deep down, I liked being forced to do this. To feel good in a way I otherwise couldn't.

Now I knew he had to be jacking off by the sound coming through. "Touch your breast like you want me to do to you."

This had begun to feel disorienting, euphoria-inducing. Even on a screen from somewhere else, he wanted to see me excited at the thought of him claiming me. Or at least to feed his ego as a doting slave should do. Did he care whether it was more than an act? Did any wealthy man, for that matter? And did I care if he discovered I truly enjoyed myself in this moment?

My thumb rolled over my pebbled nipple, the arousing sensation creating a flash in my mind of that moment he mentioned how the sensation was the same as a woman falling in love. A high flowing through me as I heard his excited voice so sensual in my ear.

"I love that expression on your face while you fantasize about being mine."

Even his arrogant words that he continued to speak only brought to mind the erotics stimulation of the many times he forced me to experience a new bliss. The excessive ache in my core demanded I stroke myself with ernest.

The background sounds seemed to melt, placing me against him, feeling him as though he was at this table, demanding his morning breeding of me. His taunts of knocking me up and making me his for eternity. I couldn't hold back as everything horrid and amazing swirled together.

"Look up to the camera and spread your pussy so I can see it," he demanded.

I obeyed, spreading my folds for him to see the contracting of my inner lips.

"Fuck!" Spoken deep as he always did while blasting seed into me. By the continued pants, I would have thought he'd been on a long jog.

But what excited him more? Me looking into the camera he eagerly watched, or him struggling to see the small contractions of my orgasm? Just the thought of staring him in the eye on screen unnerved me, yet I couldn't look away. Even as I heard the undeniable sounds of Geralt's building release.

"That's a good girl, Sweetheart. Keep looking at me but let your arms rest at your sides." He paused, giving way to the primal noises of Geralt's explosion.

I'd rather remain in the good graces of this whiplashing alpha male than give in to the curiosity of the two lovers in the room. I blinked several times, waiting for whatever might be ordered of me.

"You want your rewards, don't you, slave?" he finally asked.

Of course, I did. "Yes, Master."

"Was I lenient with you yesterday?"

I swallowed forcefully. "Yes, Master. May I--"

"Reply with answers, little slave." Yet again, it was the collected and drawn out conversation. The questions he asked as though I were at trial and he knew how to get to the exact outcome he desired.

"Yes, Master." He may not have been in the room, but even the short amount of time I'd spent with him, I knew how that timbre would roll over my neck if spoken close. The way his touch would glide over my outlined breasts. Even the ever-increasing concern of a shocking wand held in view for added effect.

"I won't repeat every offensive thing you said in your fit, but there were several instances of inappropriate slave behavior I chose to overlook. Do you agree?"

Now the many things came back to haunt me. Whatever had certainly caused him to put me in a dress Sadie considered to be shaming. Somewhere between the I hate you, calling him worse than anyone my mother ever dated, and claiming some woman spawned him, I'd done something he planned to address in this unnerving way.

"Yes, Master," I replied, chest swelling a bit with unease at this questioning. He could never simply let me glow, could he?

"I'm letting you spend our special holidays with your mother. That is nice of me, is it not?"

Not our holiday as in Thanksgiving--holidays, as in Thanksgiving and Christmas. And he considered my Christmas as time belonging to this agreement I'd entered. But there would be no arguing.

I bit my lower lip. They were such simple words, boring questions, that might have meant nothing or everything. "Yes, Master."

A long, slow exhale gently vibrated in my overly alert ear.

Affectionate coos from Sadie and Geralt came from my peripherie. They were moving, but I dared not look.

After enough time passed, I finally had to say, "Thank you, Master." Though the words held a tremble as I spoke to the camera.

"You were upset, and I promised not to let any dom discipline you, and thus found you a cohabiting slave. There is something new slaves always do to show respect and promise good behavior for their mentors."

Again, he let the silence between us become toxic. I waited, before realizing that a thank you was due for his promise. Yet he seemed to forget how I'd gotten trapped in such a fragile state.

"Thank you, Master."

"You are most certainly welcome. But little slave..." The last words held questioning.

"Yes, Master?" I could only imagine his face in front of me as I focused on the camera.

"Before Sadie can give you your precious little pill or help you get into position with the machine, you are going to let her cut off your hair."

My hair? My hair? Why was my hair some sort of show of faith? I certainly wasn't obsessed with it, but to have it chopped off by some girl with kitchen scissors seemed absurd.

"I am aware that you are used to putting close to nine-hundred dollars on my father's credit card during every salon visit, and that you have an appointment next week before we visit your mother. I already canceled it because I'm sure you will still look just fine if Sadie performs the cut."

To say I feared the mention of the machine would have been a lie. It hardly registered in my thoughts. But my hair? It was my crowning feature and something even he loved to run his fingers through. People complimented it in passing. But there was a darker truth to his accusation. Those trips to the salon were always with my mother, and her abundance of services cost the most.

We'd reached one of the moments in the relationship when I should have had a right to defend myself. But we weren't in a relationship. Why that crossed my mind seemed foolish. This had been coercion into behaving as he desired for less than a month. Besides, it wasn't like i'd ever been in a relationship where my views actually mattered, and this didn't count for anything healthier than my ex, even if I didn't have as many fights or concerns.

That thought only depressed me a bit more. I'd never personally seen or been in a healthy relationship. But instead of fantasizing about what I would probably never have, there was a hideous unavoidable truth to come. My hair would be cut by Sadie. Defensive argument was a guaranteed loss--and I knew when to count my losses.

Forcing myself to speak the damning acceptance, I replied, "Yes, Master."

"You are being such a good little slave this morning. Keep it up and Sadie will be permitted to use that numbing cream for when you're on the machine. When she is available, politely ask her to cut your hair. I have things to do, but wrap and tie your dress and keep this piece in your ear for when I feel the need to direct you again, but Sadie will be the one giving you guidance outside of my presence.

Chapter

While it didn't happen immediately, Sadie did finally come over to me. She still beamed the smile that said nothing of the punishing fuck she'd just endured. One month. I wouldn't have to see that ridiculous smile or be held responsible for her not being punished.

The heir would most certainly hear me, so my only words to her were, "Please cut my hair, Sadie."

After she gave me the order to sit in the wooden dining chair, I had to direct her to the kitchen shears, since those were the only scissors in my home.

I wasn't expecting a good haircut, but at least a comb to be used. She only grabbed my hair and pulled it to the back of my head.

Yes, I did panic, turning my head and pulling and hearing the sound of slicing hair as the scissors cut through my long brown locks at the nape. All too soon, I had to come to terms with the fact that I'd actually let someone other than a highly skilled, expensive stylist cut my hair.

And why had I so easily done it? That one month mantra seemed like the only thing I could hold onto, yet it also seemed to be too far into the background. This had been too easy, as though his stupid, simple questioning put me into a state of agreeability. Or was it the praising and offering for a cream that ensured I didn't suffer pain during his cruel delights.

When none of my hair remained in her grip, I let my head fall forward and the tears came. He'd actually gotten me to easily set aside all dignity and accept this as something good for me. I'd be rewarded. I wouldn't be in pain and neither would Sadie. How fucked up could he be? How fucked up was I?

And when Sadie spoke comfortingly, saying God-only-knew-what, my loud sobs drowned her out. What a manipulative, evil, entitled and arrogant prick.

And the worst part, no matter how close I came to screaming at him in rage, it would only hurt me worse. It would cause some other cruel and spiteful torment. I would be at fault for Sadie's pain. He'd engineered this to perfection for himself. And as my loathing and despair built, his fucking voice--calm and feigning compassion--came from the pod.

"Sweetheart."

Like that did a damned thing but make it worse. Was he that much of a fucking psychopath? Now I only grew louder, pillowing the table with my arms as I continued to silently sob.

"Sweetheart, hair is absolutely nothing to cry over." He sighed in my ear.

My next body shaking hiccup included a sardonic laugh. "You must love getting me to this point just so you can pretend to care."

Silence.

Maybe the next punishment would come without warning for me speaking my mind without thought. He could claim that I didn't receive my pill or the cream or even to attend class. He could also cause Sadie's suffering.

"You seemed perfectly happy with your short hair the first time I saw you. This isn't much shorter."

Funny. The most notable thing about my first encounter with him had been his scowl as he cast insults. Then again, I'd tried to be amiable at first. But if I hadn't pissed him off, I didn't want to test anything further.

"Can I have my pill now?" I kept my forehead against my forearm, but wiped my eyes. The camera and its monstrous owner didn't need to relish my tears.

"When you stop crying, you may have your beloved birth control."

That didn't happen immediately, but I had no choice but to dry my eyes and sniffle deep. I'd thought this would be easy. Simply tolerate him for a month, act like my mother, keep his little ego happy, it was going horribly wrong.

"Our Masters love us dearly and cannot bear our tears," Sadie said, bringing a glass of water and my pill.

"Thanks." It was the only response to come up with.

"You look much better with short hair."

Mine fell past chin length in the front, so it wasn't as short as her jawline bob. And at least she didn't force bangs upon me and make me more doll-like as herself.

After I'd taken my pill, she motioned toward the machine. I still had to endure that before classes started.

"My Master..." the possessive felt odd. "He has a cream."

"Oh, yes, slave." She walked toward the post shed recently been attached to. "So few Masters permit the cream. My Master never did. You are very lucky."

"Did he force you to be his slave?" I asked.

"Slaves do not chat!" The heir growled in my ear. He would hear everything, given the cameras and the earbud, so I should have thought before asking. Rational thought began to feel impossible.

"Understood?" he snapped.

Make this easier on myself. Agree and move on with my day. I "Yes...Master," I whispered.

"I love my Master very much." Sadie would probably suffer severe consequences if she responded any other way. The lack of direct answer seemed to say plenty, though. "I will apply your cream once you are in position."

I followed her to the baluster. Once again, the wide and uncomfortable collar I wore would be connected to that. I had to take the padlock and entrap myself in the way I faced the camera near the table while my legs spread and my rear angled toward the machine.

All too soon, she had the skirt of the heavy dress folded over my back and her fingers were to my core. Guiding in the cool cream, she said, "I've never known your Master to favor any woman, but I see why he likes you."

Because my ex had a small cock and my walls weren't stretched out yet? Of all the compliments to be given, that seemed fitting, but he had more sinister reasons to enjoy me.

I decided to act like her and bloat his ego so this wasn't chatting, but rather bullshit Master worship to make him happy. "Yes. I love how much my Master loves to fuck me. I want to be the best slave he's ever owned."

Her fingers twirled inside me. The application of the cream seemed mundane to how the Master had thoroughly stroked in a sensual way. Like a lover instead of a simple process to apply it.

Her voice lowered to a whisper. "He's never enjoyed the company of any woman." she retrieved more cream to sufficiently numb me. "I always assumed..." she stopped herself from finishing the sentence. Maybe she also received threats for chatting.

"There we go." Where her small digits had been, the cold dildo soon filled me all the way to place pressure on my cervix.

The moment it turned on and started to jackhammer my insides, I tried to think on everything she'd said. How nice he was, seeing why he liked me, not enjoying the company of women. And what had she always thought? Maybe he seemed gay with his disinterest in women. More than likely, he probably acted like a misogynistic Incel, though.

Another mention that held my curiosity was how she mentioned our Masters unable to stand us crying. But the Heir relished this. It permitted him to add to his twisted game.

Or did it?

He caved and apologized yesterday. Today he tried to console me with the mention of liking my shorter hair in the past. In a way he didn't feel like a psychopath in the moments of kindness. Even empowering when he had me in front of my ex who'd masterfully hid his affair. But they were all still taunts meant to gloat and show me how inferior he believed me to be.

Chapter

After Sadie reapplied cream for residual discomfort and freed me from the baluster, I had ten minutes to be ready and out the door for class.

"Our loving Masters provide us with all we need," Sadie said from the passenger seat. "Why do you want to go to university."

How could I answer that without the Master who'd coerced me into this predicament consider it chatting? In the end, I had to resort to playing his ego. "Oh, my loving Master has paid for mine in full." In a way, the sarcasm through such absurd manipulation of the truth felt nice. "He never wanted any other women because he knew of my burning desire for him. I couldn't wait any longer to be with him, though."

He didn't seem to mind the deceptive chat as long as it centered around him being marvelous. Or maybe he'd finally stopped eavesdropping, though I doubted that.