Dominated Heir 2 Ch. 06

Sadie reached over to my arm in a way that suggested she thought my adoration of him was marvelous. "We have such perfect Masters."

How could she actually express such a delighted touch. The exaggerated words would have sufficed as response. She must have been a brainwashed moron.

"Truly," I replied. When I parked, I gave my lopsided hair and tired face a final hopeless glance in the rearview before giving up on being pretty.

Sadie accompanied me to classes, and, luckily, my ex wasn't in the courses we shared to sit in the seat beside me. Perhaps the jerk heir had him removed from the roster. I couldn't doubt the possibility.

Whispers certainly came from the students we knew well. Even the professor gave me a few awkward glances. now I understood the shaming aspect of the dress. I would never have worn something like a hideously fitted mix between a bathrobe and religious styled garment. Worse, I would never have gone without makeup or with an uneven haircut. Though, the wide, red collar certainly didn't help in my appearance.

***

Once we'd returned to the Master's home in the late afternoon, I was required to be on my knees, then straight to the baluster. Class, after all, was an offense to be punished for once I entered what had once been my home.

I didn't mention my absolute hunger. In truth, had the Master been here, he would have forced me to eat twice already. I hadn't a clue if Sadie was giving me orders or guidance. I knew that not following her direction meant punishment for us both. He'd also chosen to force this upon me as part of my punishment and his promise to keep his pervy friends away from me.

While the machine rammed into me to make my insides more receptive to a harsh fucking, Sadie brought over the porridge from breakfast. Reheated, at least. Maybe that was a kindness. He'd never made me eat something so old and flavorless. He'd used more care in everything he did to me.

If I wanted to be treated well, and not stuck on my knees or with this expert slave until the end of this agreement, I needed to not piss him off. That seemed impossible as days went by. I'd learned how to deal with temperamental men, both from my mom's relationships as well as my ex.

This entitled jerk felt so much different to navigate. At times, he seemed nice and caring. He'd never been as rough with me as Geralt had been with Sadie, and she knew better than to make a complaint or say a single negative thing about him.

At some point during my miserable session at the baluster while the machine pumped into me, the door opened. Though Sadie had been in an odd kneeling position in front of me with her kitten ears in perfect place atop her head, the moment someone entered, she beamed. It was like a lap dog who'd waited all day to see their owner. And Geralt must have arrived.

But there were several male voices, including his. He'd not bothered communicating with me for hours. Even upon arrival when Geralt went to praise and run his fingers through Sadie's hair, the heir paid me no glance. He continued through the dungeonous area and toward the bedroom.

He didn't acknowledge me; as though I hadn't been suffering miserably all day at his whim. One of the men--the one who'd previously gagged me--did plop down on a chair at the table, facing me and Sadie, watching with too much interest. Maybe he liked seeing my tightened expression as the dildo shoved my insides further out of the way for the self-proclaimed Master to thoroughly fuck me.

And what could I do but wait? Hope he might come? He deemed talking unacceptable. Requests could be offenses. Watching Sadie crawl beside her Master to then kneel at the edge of the table was all I could do.

The machine continued for such a grueling length of time, the numbing cream began to wear off. I must have been suffering in this cruel position for hours. Geralt cooked a fresh meal and fed Sadie, and I still remained locked to the large baluster in the center of the dungeonous area.

Maybe the men watched, but I didn't bother looking to find out. Whatever thoughts once raced were replaced by my inability to tolerate this discomfort. The point came when I could no longer handle it.

"Ple--ease..." I didn't speak loud. I couldn't, even that word was chopped.

"What is it you need, slave?" The fucking bastard immediately spoke into my ear. He'd done this and had waited for me to beg. It should have been laughable how cruel he could be.

I didn't bother to hide the pain in my voice. By now, I'd become too broken by him. And as that dildo pistoned into me, he'd acted as though I could have made a simple request at any point. Answering him with any clarity felt impossible.

"Please!" The word came out distressed, whimpered, even.

Silence answered. Had this been what my mother endured at the pleasures of twisted men?

Less than a month. Misery for less than a month. But this, this felt like an eternity. It felt like a fucking hell. He'd found ways to make sure I didn't give up for fear of retribution. To make me appreciative, even. Appreciative of nothing of value beyond not suffering or losing something I desperately needed.

15 Master POV

Why the fuck did she have to cry. The settings didn't cause pain, i made certain this wasn't a cruelty. Discomfort, yes, but nothing worth crying over.

Even that fucking frat boy's cheating didn't make her cry. Yet she fucking teared up over anything i did. It was much akin to the sensitive disposition of the woman who spawned me before she walked out when I was no more than eight.

I couldn't fucking stand it. I had half a mind to give this little slave something to cry about, but that would make this situation more intolerable. Had she learned nothing from a day with Sadie, whose contentment was more than evident? I'd tolerated the deceptive statements spoken that were meant to taunt me. It felt like listening to her deceptive mother who'd manipulated my father. And somehow she also had the bouncing emotions of someone who sat at home watching the sappy shit on Hallmark.

I swiftly strode into the room, ignoring the other Doms and Sadie, who contentedly ate from her spot on the floor.

My slave stared downward, but she shook from silenced sobs. I didn't have the patience to say anything, but turned off the machine so it departed her pussy. God, did I want to be inside that cunt and remind her of who it belonged to. But a fucking crying woman? No, there was no fun in that. Not for me, anyway.

I retrieved the key to the padlock from its spot beneath the couch. "You need to stop crying right now, slave," I said while going around in front of her to free her collar from the punishment post. Once I had her neck free, I unhooked her wrist cuffs from the sides as well then pulled the dress down to cover her.

Her crying continued, on into after I helped her to stand upright. She didn't even bother to look at me, and I had to grip her by the jaw to turn her to face me. She still stared past me, but not to the others in the room who watched how I would handle this. They'd never in their lifetime dealt with anyone like her, so they had no idea what this was like. Training her for my show of dominance next week was beginning to feel damned near impossible.

"Will ice cream help?" I asked. That helped women be happy.

The same sardonic laughing cry as yesterday escaped her. "So this level of cruelty is what it takes for you to pretend to be a human?"

"Answer correctly!"

"No..." Her reddened scowl could have been contempt, but that was far better than uncontrolled crying. "Master."

"Then I'll still make you something to eat." I considered making her crawl to the table. I knew I should have. There were plenty of things I needed to force upon her in order to make certain she properly trained.

Geralt and Conrad gave me the bewildered and warning glances. I should have disciplined her for speaking out of line. To coddle her and overlook bad behaviors gave her too much power. Success depended on not giving in to this behavior. Certainly so she happily remained with me without further need for coercion.

I led her to the table. She may have been weak on her legs, but not in pain from her time at the post. "Kneel beside Sadie and I'll cook you something."

She still didn't look at me or anyone else, but rather willingly dropped to her knees.

The other two Doms didn't let their disappointment go unnoticed as I swiftly went to the refrigerator to pull out the ingredients for stir-fry vegetables. Another one of her favorite dishes. And despite every imaginable attempt to calm myself, I couldn't. This woman made everything difficult.

My father would have ridiculed me. And my mother--I hated the thought of her judgment. Her shaming and off-hand reminders that she didn't want me to be like my father. And I was nothing like him! I didn't enjoy making women cry.