Dove's Tale

Her name was Phyllis Crow, and that was the only thing about her that wasn't beautiful. Age 24, HS diploma, one year of college, last employed as a customer service rep for a cell phone company.

He'd been training slaves for more than half his 44 years, ever since one of his Russian associates-a man who'd known his father-had whispered in his ear that such things still existed. He took a great deal of pride in turning undisciplined, clueless girls into perfect pets.

Usually, he let others do the dirty work, and when he wanted a new girl he attended one of their small, private, very secret auctions-but this girl was different. Ever since he'd first seen her, having a drink with friends in a Chicago bar, he'd been obsessed with having her for his own.

A couple hundred thousand dollars to private investigators to find out everything about her? Three million to arrange her abduction? To Alexander, that was little more than pocket change.

He'd named her Dove long before she was brought to him. It seemed to fit her perfectly. Naming a girl was important to him, and he tried to give each just the right name.

He had four girls now-in his opinion, the perfect number. Tall, red-haired Kitten had gotten her name during her first week of training. He was watching her sleep, and realized her soft snores sounded just like a cat purring.

Rogue had gotten her name in recognition of the blonde streak she had dyed into her dark hair just two days before her kidnapping. Barely five feet tall, with an adorable turned-up nose and luscious bubble butt, she was one of his all-time favorite pets.

And slim, blonde Trouble got her name ironically. In reality, the skinny girl was the most docile, easily intimidated people he'd ever met. She had tamed so quickly and so easily it almost didn't seem fair.

Now he had his fourth, and life was good.

Rogue and Kitten were upstairs, enjoying most of a day off. He planned to send Dove back to her room no later then 9:00 or so, then he would call one of them. As badly as he wanted to, he wouldn't use the new girl sexually tonight-it was too soon after the breakthrough. Tonight for her would be about pleasure and indulgence.

Trouble was in the kitchen, cooking. Several months earlier, he had called Phyllis, pretending it was a radio-station giveaway. He'd asked her a few questions he knew she could answer, and the 'prize' had been a $100 gift card to a very nice resturaunt. She'd ordered Chicken Alfredo, so he assumed it was one of her favorite dishes-which was why it was on the menu tonight.

At a quarter to six, Alexander headed to his den, first swinging into the kitchen to make sure dinner would be ready on time. Trouble was there, naked except for a frilly little apron and platform heels. She bowed her head and blushed cutely when her Master entered.

'Smells good, little one. How much longer?'

'About twenty minutes Master,' she answered quietly.

Smiling, he carressed her cheek and gave her bare bottom a gentle pat, enjoying the way she shivered. Whistling, he proceeded to his large den to do a little work before dinner and Dove arrived.

He sat down at the big desk, turned on his laptop and answered a couple emails. He wanted to seem engrossed in his work when the girl entered, to make her wait and realize her status...an enjoyable indulgence, nothing more. He smirked as he thought about the coming evening. Oh, he would play her like a violin...

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Phyllis realized her appearance would have the desired effect when the stoic Barry reacted when he saw her. True, it was only a raised eyebrow and a slight tilt of the head, but for him that was practically histrionics.

He held up a big hand, motioning for her to follow. She met his gaze, her expression neutral.

'No,' she said mildly. 'You can tell Dickless I've decided to stay in my room tonight.'

He took a step towards her and motioned again.

'I said no,' she told him.

With a tiny sigh, he grabbed her. She didn't bother to fight-there was no point. Dickless was too quick and clever to hit, but Barry? She had punched and kicked him before, and her blows had zero effect. It was like hitting a stone wall.

He had a way of carrying her, spinning her sideways and pinning her against his body, his left arm trapping her arms and rendering her helpless. She hung limp as he effortless walked down the hall. When they came to one of the huge locked doors, he simply shifted a little so his left hand supported her hip while he opened the door with his right.

He set her on her feet outside the open den door and looked down at her, one huge hand resting on the scruff of her neck. Now that the moment of truth was at hand, her stomach filled with butterflies.

She took a deep breath and entered, hearing the doors shut behind her. Barry, she knew, would be right outside, standing guard.

Her captor had instructed her on how to enter the room at a time like this. Walk gracefully and seductively past the desk, continue to the far side of the room where he had a high-backed chair, and kneel on the cushion next to it until he came for her.

Instead, scowling, she stomped over to the chair and dropped into it heavily. The sound of her bare feet, even on the thick, luxurious carpet, made him look up for the first time.

'Did you sleep well, my pet...' he began to say, his voice trailing off as he got a good look at her. His eyes widened in surprise...and got even wider when she sat down in *his* chair.

'What in the world?' he growled, rising. 'You know better than that Dove. Get your ass out of my chair, and explain why you would present yourself to your Master in such a state.'

She stared at him, scowling. He was amazed to see there was no fear, no trepidation, no concern in her eyes-just contempt.

'My name is Phyllis Miriam Crow. My friends call me Philly. You are not my friend. You can call me Miss Crow.'

He smirked at her little act of defiance.

'I will call you whatever I choose pet. It seems you need to learn...'

'Oh for fuck's sake shut the hell up,' she snarled, interuppting him in mid-sentence.

He stopped, his mouth open in shock.

'Do you WANT to be whipped tonight Dove?'

'Let's get something straight asshole,' she hissed. Curious, he stood and listened.

'I'm done,' she continued. 'Yes, last night you caught me in a weak moment. It won't happen again. See, unlike you, I understand the difference between right and wrong...good and evil...between being a decent person and being a puddle of dog vomit.'

'I will not...CAN not...participate in something this vile. So go ahead. Do whatever vicious, shitty thing you're going to do to me. I can't stop you.'

'I hope you have a wonderful time,' she finished bitterly. 'I hope it makes you feel really fucking good about yourself.'

His smile was predatory. 'Oh, trust me Dove, I will enjoy this...much more than you will.'

He covered the short distance between them faster than she could react, grabbed a handful of her dirty hair and yanked her unceremoniously to the floor as she squealed in pain. He pressed a knee into the small of her back, pinning her facedown, and hollered for his manservant.

'We're taking her to the small baths.'

Once again, Phyllis was wrapped up and carried, this time futiley squirming and struggling. They went back downstairs to a room she hadn't seen before...an empty, tiled room about ten feet square.

'Strip her,' Alexander ordered, and Barry set her on her feet. She felt his massive hands at the back of her neck, taking hold of her shirt at the neckline. With an effortless tug, he ripped it all the way down the back.

He spun her around and pulled the front down her arms, leaving her topless. As soon as her arms were free she tried to dash away, but his long arms snaked out, pulling her back easily. In an instant, he had her in a one armed full nelson, his forearm pressed into the back of her neck.

He lifted her a few inches off the ground, and with his free hand jerked her pants down past her hips. He stepped on them with his foot and lifted her a little higher, pulling her feet free.

Barry let her go and she spun, backing away and starting to yell angrily...only to be silenced by a blast of frigid water that drove her staggering into the back wall of the tiled room.

Alexander held a powerful hose, and sprayed her from head to toes with icy water. She covered her face and turned her back, screaming in pain and rage.

The hose stopped for a moment, and she heard his voice.

'There are always consequences for disobedience. If you're told to do something, you will do it...or it will be done for you.'

'Or to you,' he finished, and turned the hose back on, soaking her some more.

The freezing shower seemed to go on forever. By the time he turned the hose off again, she was crouched down, her face buried in her arms, sobbing and shivering.

'You have to control your hot temper, little Dove,' he mocked. 'You need to...as the kids say...chill out.'

Alexander flicked a wall switch, and her body, already soaked in cold water, was buffeted from every direction by harsh, cool streams of air. She screamed again, her teeth chattering in misery, wondering if he intended to punish her by freezing her to death.

He watched, smirking as she fell helplessly to her hands and knees, and counted slowly to twenty. Finally, mercifully, he flipped another switch, and instantly the blowing air changed from cold to warm, quickly drying the whimpering, naked girl, saving her from hypothermia.

'The Chamber,' he said simply, and Barry grabbed her. By now, she was too beaten down to struggle, so instead of clutching her against his torso, he simply threw her over his massive shoulder.

Her tears flowed freely as the little group moved to the next room. She knew what the Chamber was. It was a room for punishment.

Soon, she was bound in the middle of the room, her wrists straight over her head, locked in padded cuffs, a spreader bar holding her legs apart, her toes barely touching the stone floor.

Her mind raced as Alexander went to work on her body. 'Remember this morning...remember this morning...' she clung to the thought, desperately seeking the strength to endure.

He started with ice, brushing a small cube across her nipples until they stiffened. Cruel clamps connected with a light chain soon decorated her lovely B cup breasts.

The ice was applied again between her legs, forcing her clit to awaken. It too soon felt the bite of a clamp. He clipped the chains together, tightly, painfully pulling all three tender nubs.

He gave her hair a yank, and she whimpered when she saw the plug he was waving in front of her eyes. With no lube, no tenderness, and little ceremony, he slowly forced it between her cheeks, remorselessly stretching her tender virgin asshole.

Once it was all the way in, he turned it on, and it started to buzz and vibrate. The unfamiliar sensations made her want to squirm and dance, but every movement tugged painfully on her aching clit and nipples. She fought to stay still, fought to control her sobs, fought against her fear...

A thin, whippy cane zipped through the air, crashing into her buttocks. Again and again, she heard the whistle of the cane swinging, then felt the blow land on her still-sore rump. She screamed and howled, her body twisting helplessly, the clamps sending jolts of agony through her body.

Alexander didn't stop until her ass was flaming red, and a couple tiny trickles of blood trailed down the backs of her thighs.

He laid a hand on her scorching left cheek. 'Starting to regret your behavior yet pet?'

She tried to arch away from his touch, and at his words she gratefully found a spark of anger inside her. She reached for it in desperation.

'Go to hell,' she managed to gasp, her voice an ugly rasp, her throat raw from screaming.

He shook his head and chuckled evilly. 'Oh good, we're not done then.'

He opened the clamps on her breasts and carelessly let them fall. She shrieked as the weights bounced in the air, yanking on her throbbing, sore clit, and sobbed in agony as the blood rushed back into her nipples.

He had a many-tailed flogger in his hand, and stroked the paintbrush of lashes across her boobs.

'Ten if you count each one, and beg for the next one. Twenty-five if you don't.'

Fear and anger warred within her dangling body. Bravely, or foolishly, anger won.

'Fuck you, Dickless,' she croaked.

'Have it your way, slave girl,' he answered mildly, and snapped the whip across her tits.

'One,' he crooned as her scream rang out.

He took a couple steps to the side and gave her a backhanded lash.

'Two,' he continued, mocking her pain.

Back and forth he went, the whip biting into her firm breasts, and she screamed and sobbed, using all her will and energy to keep from begging for mercy.

Thin red lines criss-crossed her tits as the blows rained down. When he got to ten, he paused to get right in her face, cruelly pulling her hair, forcing her to look into his eyes.

'If you had just obeyed pet, your punishment would be over.'

He kissed her nose in mock tenderness. 'Instead, we're just getting started.'

He was careful not to draw blood, and the lashes got softer and softer as the number he chanted got higher. It didn't matter-by now her breasts were so sore and raw that even a light breeze would have been agony.

After the twenty-fifth blow, soft as a caress, he dropped the flogger and filled his hands with the aching cones of her boobs, squeezing brutally.

'Are you finally starting to understand, bitch?' he snarled. 'These tits are mine...all of you is mine!'

He punctuated his words by crushing her aching tits in his hands and twisting painfully, dragging another sandpapery scream from his victim.

He walked away and drank some water, letting her dangle, knowing she was hoping the ordeal was over. In his sadistic mind, she looked so beautiful he could hardly stand it...her eyes red from crying, her breasts beaten and inflamed, her butt flaming red from the cane. He was rock hard beneath his suit pants.

He was right, she was hoping and praying he was done punishing her. Her arms and shoulders ached from supporting her weight, her breasts were on fire with pain, her poor clit felt swollen and throbbed in the clamp, and her ass was pure agony.

A touch of a wall switch lowered her manacles a little, allowing her to stand on the balls of her feet, relieving some of the pressure on her wrists, arms and toes.

She could have cheered when he unhooked the spreader bar from her ankles and gently removed the clamp from her clit, even as the pain of blood flowing back into the little pearl made her gasp.

She watched, her spirit sinking as he dragged over a strange device. It was a horizontal rod, about four feet long, thicker than a broomstick, stuck between two 'bookends' on wheels.

He kicked her legs back apart and rolled the thing between her thighs, chocking the wheels so it wouldn't move. Then he adjusted the height so it was pressing firmly against her pussy.

'You're a lucky girl, Dove,' he smirked. 'Usually slaves don't get choices, but whipping your tits put me in a good mood.'

She was already feeling the strain in her calves and ankles as she stretched up almost on her toes to keep her body from resting painfully on the wooden rod as he continued.

'So...you can be a good girl, come to bed with me and beg to be used like a little slut...or you can spend the night riding this pony.'

She shuddered in terror, but brazenly met his gaze.

'If my choice is between being touched by you, or anything else, I will always choose anything else.'

He smiled like a shark. 'We'll see,' he said simply.

He reached up and put a small device into one of her bound hands.

'When you've had enough...when you're ready to bed your Master to let you down off the pony and fuck you up the ass...just press that button.'

'Fuck that,' she tried to snarl, and flicked her hand, letting the remote clatter to the floor.

'Not smart Dove. Not smart at all. Now you're stuck here.'

With that, he left the room, turning the lights off and closing the door, leaving her in total darkness.

There was no escaping the torture of the pony. She stayed up on her tip toes as long as she could, even trying to use her hands to hold the chains for more support, but it was inevitable. Exhausted from her beating, her strength faded, and more and more often she was forced to sit on the wooden rod.

It was agony. She wasn't a big girl, only 110 pounds or so, but that was still far too much weight for her poor pussy to bear. She whimpered and sobbed in the pitch black room, unable to focus on anything but the hell of pain wracking her body. The plug still vibrated in her ass, and each time she was forced to rest on the pony, it seemed to push it in deeper, adding to her misery.

Meanwhile, Alexander went back to his den and called for Rogue. She was the best of his girls at oral, and he spent two blissful hours with his cock in his slave girl's mouth, feeding her three loads of semen.

Whistling, in total control of his emotions, he went back to the Chamber to check on Dove.

When he flipped on the lights, she struggled back up onto her toes, still trying to defy him.

'Having fun?' he chuckled cruelly, and in her exhaustion she could only glare at him.

He picked up a small metal paddle. 'Still not ready to beg Master to use you asshole, pet? Shame...'

He reached down and grabbed her left ankle, lifting her foot behind her. She let out a ragged moan as the wooden rod again pressed against her sore pussy.

'This will help you make up your mind.'

He viciously slapped the sole of her foot with the paddle, giving it ten harsh swats. He walked around to the other side and repeated the action on her right foot, leaving both so sore and tender that putting any pressure on them was enough to make the poor girl cry out in pain.

Her sobs were music to his ears as he left her again, unable to stand, her aching vagina now bearing the full weight of her body on the slim wooden pony.

'One more hour,' he thought as he closed the door. He didn't want to ruin that sweet treasure between her legs.

He headed back to his den, stiff again, to where he had left Rogue kneeling naked, waiting to service him.

'One more hour.'