Dove's Tale Ch. 06

IT WAS

so

god damn

frustrating.

She had a weapon-she had a plan-and she could not get the opportunity.

Phyllis refused to believe he somehow knew about the little knife hidden in her room. She was sure if he found out, she wouldn't live an hour.

Still, it was uncanny and supremely frustrating that after coming into her cell night after night, sitting in her chair and getting a blowjob-the exact scenario she had planned for-he had changed things up.

First, he started cuffing her hands behind her back, saying she 'needed to get better at using just her mouth.' It made it impossible to grab and use the knife.

Then he kept disappearing for three or four days at a time. She certainly didn't mind not having to deal with him, but it extended the amount of time she was stuck here, and made the tension build.

She tried to stop her jaw from clenching, tried to control the anger and keep her expression slack and neutral. If she gave into her rage, she'd forget her plan and try to kill him. And while he deserved to die for everything he had done, she wanted him alive.

Everything he had done, she thought bitterly. Not just to her, but to Kitten and Rogue as well.

She thought about what Kitten had told her, and her lips quivered with sadness and anger.

A few times, he had told her to spend the night in Kitten's room. Not to have sex-just on a whim.

Phyllis was still mostly silent and withdrawn, but the two girls did talk some. She actually liked Kitten, who was smart and sweet and struck her as competent-someone who could deal with almost anything.

So one morning, after they woke tangled up together in the not-quite-big-enough-for-two-people bed, Phyllis told her.

'I can understand the other girls. Rogue is just submissive-this is like a dream come true for her. And Trouble thinks that...man hung the stars in the sky.'

Phyllis shook her head. 'But I don't get you. Why does someone as bright as you obey someone who's such an evil bastard so eagerly?'

Kitten smiled and brushed Phyllis' hair away from her face in a very big sisterly manner.

'You don't understand Dove. This is all I've ever known. I was born into this.'

She almost laughed at the puzzled look on Phyllis' face.

'My mom was a slave, just like me. I've been serving and obeying my whole life.'

'Dear god,' Phyllis muttered, shocked. 'You've never been free?'

Kitten shook her head, still smiling gently. 'Nope. I wouldn't have any idea what to do on my own. This IS my life.'

She ran her fingers through Phyllis' hair again. 'Don't look so upset hon. It really hasn't been a bad life. I've always lived in palaces, I've never wanted for anything. I've only ever had to worry about one thing-pleasing my Master or Mistress.'

'Yeah but...I just...'

Now Kitten did laugh. 'I know, I know. I'm supposed to be all sad and bitter and yearn for freedom. But honestly, I can't even imagine it.'

'I'll tell you something else,' she continued. 'This is a pretty easy gig. Trust me-there are a LOT of worse owners.'

'That's hard to believe,' Phyllis said, frowning.

'That's because you never really made it past the training stage. Training is always rough. Even for me-when Master first brought me here, he needed to teach me how to do things his way. It was hard.'

Phyllis couldn't think of anything to say.

'Even now, you're still fighting. Yeah, you obey, but it's mechanical. You still haven't embraced and accepted your position. When you do, you'll be much happier.'

Phyllis scowled. 'No offense, but I hope that never happens.'

Still, as much as Kitten's story made her seethe and grind her teeth, it was nothing compared to what happened to poor Rogue.

He liked to lock her in a chastity belt when he went away, knowing that a few days of total abstinence would leave her panting eagerly for him when he returned.

One night, a couple weeks ago, he came home as the girls were finishing supper. He had taken them all into a parlor, pulling them onto his lap one after the other to cuddle and fondle them.

The others cooed and purred happily. It took all of Phyllis' willpower to endure his groping.

Then he'd fallen asleep on the couch, reminding them all that he was a man in his 40's. After a while, Kitten sent the rest of them to their rooms.

Phyllis was awakened at some point in the wee hours by shouts, banging and cries of pain. She shuddered when she realized it was her Master yelling angrily.

'All you bitches get out here-NOW!' he bellowed, punctuating the high volume command by slamming his hand against the wall.

Terrified, Phyllis hurried out into the hall. He was still dressed, his hair disheveled, one strong hand gripping a sobbing Rogue firmly by the hair.

'Come!' he growled, and stomped down the hallway, half dragging the small girl.

Rogue cried and whimpered, saying 'please Master please' over and over until he stopped and jerked her upright, making her squeal in pain as he yanked her brown and white hair cruelly.

'Shut the fuck up whore, or I'll cut your fucking tits off!'

Rogue trembled and clenched her lips, tears rolling down her face. In the dim light, Phyllis could see her eyes were wide with terror.

He dragged her the rest of the way to one of the punishment rooms and flung her inside. She fell heavily, her head hanging, and the other girls followed reluctantly.

'Kitten!' he barked. 'Put that bitch in the frame.'

'Yes Master,' she whispered fearfully, and went to the cowering girl on the floor. She said something too soft for anyone else to hear as she helped Rogue to her feet. The 'frame' was simply two floor-to-ceiling posts with wrist and ankle cuffs.

Crying, Rogue didn't resist at all as Kitten locked the cuffs in place.

Their Master turned to Trouble. 'Fetch the black whip off the wall,' he ordered.

She hurried to get the instrument, her legs quaking, as he pulled a lever that hoisted Rogue into the air, a helpless, spread-eagled X, all her weight supported by her arms.

Trouble knelt and held the whip up for him. It was an evil looking thing. Phyllis stood with her fists pressed against her mouth. His eyes blazed with anger.

Trouble crawled hurriedly out of the way, going to Kitten as he cracked the whip-the sound loud as a gunshot in the small room.

'Not one night,' he snarled. 'You couldn't wait one fucking night!'

He swung the whip, and it lashed the hanging girl across the back. Rogue screamed her agony, a fiery red stripe across her shoulder blades.

'Fucking worthless whore!' he yelled, and the whip fell again and again. Phyllis realized this wasn't some toy-this was a brutal, sadistic instrument designed solely to injure.

'I cannot fucking believe...I caught you playing with yourselfwithout permission!'

Rogue's screams had dissolved into sobs as the whip fell again and again. Bright red blood dripped down her body.

'I'm done with you,' he snarled as the whip ripped across her buttocks. 'You wanna be a whore? Fine! I'm shipping your slut ass to Bangcock!'

He rained lashes over her ass, the whip tearing the hapless girl's skin. Phyllis was crying and fighting the urge to be sick. Kitten and Trouble clung to each other, shivering as they watched helplessly.

Another blow landed across her back, and Rogue's battered body arched, her scream of agony echoing.

Kitten took a step towards them. 'Master, please,' she began.

He whirled, brandishing the whip, his expression insane.

'Silence!' he shouted. 'One more fucking word from any of you cunts and I double her punishment-and you get a taste too!'

Gasping, Kitten fled back to her place. Again and again the whip sang, ripping Rogue's skin. She hung limp in her bonds, and Phyllis hoped she was unconscious. Her back and butt looked like raw hamburger.

Finally, panting and sweating, he stopped. He turned and saw Barry, who had heard the commotion and now stood in the doorway.

'Throw this piece of shit in one of the black cells. If she's still alive tomorrow, we're sending her to Thailand.'

With a nod, his expression blank and stoic as ever, Barry got the girl down from the frame and carried her out of the room.

Alexander glared at the three remaining girls, his lip still twitching with anger.

'I've been too soft on you bitches. From now on, any infraction, any rule breaking, any fuck-ups will be PUNISHED!'

He locked his eyes on the cringing girls, as if daring any of them to say a word, still breathing heavily. Finally, he shook his head in disgust.

'Get your dumb asses to bed.'

That was the last any of them had seen Rogue. He made it clear the next day that they were not to ask, not to wonder, not even to speak her name. Phyllis wondered if she had survived the ordeal, and if she had, if she wished she hadn't.

True to his word, he had been harsher ever since-quicker to anger, faster to slap or paddle. Their workouts got harder, their sexual use rougher, and praise was rare to non-existent.

For Phyllis, he added a new wrinkle-she thought of them as 'those fucking headphones.' For an hour a day, she was strapped down in a pitch black, silent room, headphones over her ears, forced to listen to what he called 'training messages.'

The tapes were the soft sounds of women gasping and moaning in obvious ecstasy, and over the top of that a woman's voice, low, soothing and hypnotic, repeating over and over...

'I will be a good slave.'

'I live to please my Master.'

'My pleasure comes from Master's pleasure.'

'I'm lucky to have such a wonderful Master.'

'My Master makes me so hot.'

And on and on and on. She hated those sessions, hated every second. Her mind screamed a negation of every nauseating phrase as it was whispered. By the time each tape ended and she was released, it was a struggle to control her anger and not lash out at whoever came to get her.

She knew she needed that cover-lifeless, unhappy, emotionless-if she expected him to keep his guard down. But it was so hard-those goddamn tapes brought all her old rage and fury to life.

'Control,' she thought, repeating the word in her mind like a mantra. She didn't want to kill him-that wasn't the plan. She just wanted to incapacitate him, hurt him, tie his hands (that rag he had given her to wear would work until she could get a pair of cuffs), and then force him to take her to a phone or a computer with Internet access.

She knew no matter where in the world she was, if she could get through to either a US embassy or Interpol, she could get help-could get rescued-and send that sonofabitch to jail.

But if she killed him, she'd still be trapped behind impossible to break through doors, doomed to face Barry with nothing but a knife designed for peeling vegetables.

At last, the door to her cell opened and he was there. He looked at her and nodded sternly, seeing she was kneeling on her pillow the way he'd commanded her to.

In moments came the hated order 'Cat,' and she obediently knelt in the humiliating position. He smirked and ran his hand possessively over her back, legs and rump. Phyllis closed her eyes and shivered as she endured his caresses.

Soon enough, his fingers wandered between her legs, fondling her sex. She fought to stay still, her skin crawling, as he stroked her nether lips and clit.

She moistened-a little-but there was no pleasure in it. It was just her body's automatic response-the animal in her anticipating mating.

She remembered with a bit of satisfaction how puzzled he was by her lack of response, even after her first and only orgasm as his captive.

'I thought we were past this foolishness, little Dove,' he muttered. 'Didn't you learn the other night how much better it was if you let yourself enjoy?'

She wanted to rave at him, to snarl and scream at his clueless arrogance, but forced herself to keep her voice a bland monotone.

'This is completely different.

Master.'

'Explain.'

She bit her lip. 'Please remember that I must always tell the truth.

Master.'

'Yes, yes,' he said impatiently.

'I was able to find pleasure because you weren't touching me. I was able to block out your presence-your very existence-and do it for myself.'

'Plus,' she continued, 'you gave me the choice. That mattered a lot.

Master.'

He chuckled and continued to stroke her. 'You're getting wet though, little pet,' he said, a note of triumph in his voice.

'As you say.

Master.'

His fingers found her pearl, coaxing it out of it's hiding spot with gentle rubs and pinchs. She couldn't stay still. She quivered with disgust, and her hips twitched, her body aching to get away from his hateful touch.

In his overconfidence, he mistook her movements for arousal. He slid a finger into her, slowly gliding it in and out.

'Do you want me to stop?' he asked, mocking what he thought was her against-her-will lust.

She surprised him by answering firmly.

'Yes.

Master.'

He raised an eyebrow and finger-fucked her a little faster.

'Are you certain pet? All you have to do is ask, and Master will let you climax.'

It took every bit of willpower and control not to scream 'yes I'm fucking certain! Stop molesting me!'

Instead, she answered in the same monotone.

'Yes.

I'm certain.

Master.'

On this night, he skipped the futile ritual of trying to arouse her passions. Instead, after asserting his control by groping her, he gave her a pat between the legs-and moved to his chair.

'Snack time, slave girl,' he smirked.

Phyllis' mind was screaming with excitement, but she forced herself to move slowly, keeping up the reluctant charade.

Her hands shook as she undid his belt and opened his slacks, freeing his hardon. She thought about her plan as she began to minister to him with her mouth.

She knew his habits so well. He would watch for a bit, enjoying the sight of his slave girl giving him head, then lean back and realax. That's when she reached a hand under the little pillow and gripped the small knife.

So many times, kneeling in this exact spot, she had fought the urge to try to bite his horrid cock off. Now, at long last, she didn't have to hold back.

Her tongue stroked and fluttered, wanting him lost in passion, as she maneuvered his penis until her lips were wrapped around the very tender spot where the head and stalk joined.

With an animal snarl, she slammed her jaws together with all her strength, and at the same moment her hand jerked up, driving the knife into his inner thigh.

He howled in pain and surprise, reaching down to yank at her hair, but her teeth's grip was too strong,

And then she lost control. The taste of his blood flooding into her mouth threw her into a berserk frenzy. She tore at him with her teeth, and thrust the knife up between his legs again and again, stabbing and slicing his most sensitive spots.

He was screaming and thrashing, frantically trying to escape, as she cut him to ribbons with the little knife. Finally, in desperation, he flung a fist at her face, knocking her to the side.

He fell from the chair, both hands covering his bleeding groin, crying like a little girl. Phyllis shook her head to clear the cobwebs. Spying the knife between her and her victim, she snatched it up and attacked him with a wild yell.

She jumped on his back, slashing wildly at his face, neck and throat, her fingers clawing for his eyes, her teeth snapping, seeking purchase. All rational thought flew from her, and she was overcome with bloodlust and the drive for vengeance...

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alexander hummed contentedly as he strutted down the slave hall. He opened the last door and flicked on the lowest light, chuckling as he watched the girl on the bed squirm and murmur, obviously in the middle of an enjoyable, active dream.

'Good morning, little Dove,' he called cheerfully.

She stretched adorably, yawning and muttering. After a moment, her eyes focused enough to see him standing in the doorway.

She stretched her body again, languidly, sensuously, kicking the sheet off her nude body and spreading her legs wantonly. Her eyes sparkled and shone with adoration.

'Master!' she purred joyfully.