Li's Story Ch. 04

Li sat in a corner of her apartment. It was dark except for the cold glow of her laptop which she huddled over, a large pizza box and linen-free bed the only furnishings so far. Her Stradivarius violin had been safely locked away in a specially arranged security box at the bank. She had always known them to be the finest and most beautiful violins ever made, and that they were very expensive. Then not long ago she came across an online article gushing how one of the last remaining Stradivarius violins had been auctioned for $45 million. Her jaw hit the floor and stayed there for a long while. Through the barrage of emotions that flooded her on reading that, the one that shone forth the most brightly was the implicit faith Richard had had for her in buying one for her. It was no sparkly trinket. It was a most singular delicate work of art, which he had entrusted in her because he believed in her ability to make the most of its potential. Li promised herself that she would retrieve it from the bank when she believed that she had earned it again.

She cast a menacing eye at the last slice of pizza, swimming in its own grease. Fat fat fat, not good enough. She scolded herself ruefully. How had it come to this? Not two years ago she would have been satisfied with a garden salad, or something else stamped with the official Barbie seal of approval.

In reality, Li was only approaching the lower end of 'average' by any sane metric, abundant tits notwithstanding. That fact did not make her feel much better though. The severest of gymnastic training regimes growing up gave way to eight years of Richard's borderline sadistic exercises twice a day. Not so long ago she had a body that would not have looked out of place at the Olympics. It had been something that she drew an immense pride from every single day of her life. She pouted down at the over-sized turtleneck sweater which draped over her knees, hiding herself from her soft body. Average or otherwise, she did not feel happy and resolved to make some changes, for the hundredth time.

After yet another unsatisfactory Google search, Li snapped the laptop shut. There were no shortage of clubs, dungeons, and professional services in the area of her particular concern, but for one reason or another she rejected them all. On more than one instance she found herself pausing and asking herself how much she actually knew about the lifestyle which she so delightedly threw herself into. Had she been a "slave", or a "Richard-slave"? Taught and moulded to his specifications and to the exclusion of all else. There were certain terms and phrases that were common among the websites and profiles she viewed, but had no idea what they meant. That sculpting of her to fit himself perfectly still remained, the palimpsest of his life upon her own, could she ever be free?

She shook herself from her ruminations: her cell phone buzzed with an email from Tyra. She read it, re-read it, and then read it again. She wasn't entirely sure whether to be angry or excited. The feisty young editor responded to Li's reply almost immediately. Probably working late again. The exchange was to the effect that Tyra had contacted one of the Masters she had interviewed some months ago, and related at least some of Li's story. In what felt like a dizzingly quick exchange, Li had the Master's contact details and a...huh..."interview" the next afternoon. She was so excited she barely noticed the creeping light of dawn as she crawled from her corner to the bed.

#

Her thighs wobbled, calves afire, tears creeping out of the corner of her eyes. The chair clattered against the dining room tiles beneath her trembling. Position seven for a good twenty minutes was a punishment in itself. This wasn't fair. This was too much! Stretched over the backing, she gripped the chair legs until her knuckles turned white. No, she deserved this. She had lied, breaking the first and most important rule in the house. If anything she got off incredibly lightly.

She could not see much from her position, her dangling breasts blocking a good portion of her view. The room had been silent for a long time now, but she dared not move. Four strikes in one day may be pushing the limits. God, had she ever done so much wrong since her earliest days with Richard?

The clack-clacking of heels on tile snapped Li back to the present. Francesca rarely wore heels. It must be Mistress Patricia. The footsteps stopped not an inch behind her. She could imagine the heat of Mistress' body emanating over her.

"I am told that you have been a naughty girl today, slave." Her voice's husky southern twang trembled down Li's exposed spine.

"I'm -"

"Quiet! Keep your trap shut until I direct you to speak." The tip of a thin, narrow cane touched Li's bare ass, slowly stroking across her cheeks, circling back to her crack, then pressing in cruelly. "You told me you were the best. You told me you were tough, trained, eager, and unquestioningly obedient." The cane pressed harder and twisted into her soft, pink asshole. "You lied."

Li wanted to scream out that it was the truth. That she had slipped up, but that she still believed every word she had said before. She knew better, and kept quiet. The cane slid across her ass again, before landing with a thwack! Li grit her teeth and tensed her body, exhausted muscle rippled up her calves and back, but otherwise didn't move.

"That you are a liar, and in need of correction is a forgone conclusion. The only question I have for you is: how much did you lie?" The cane drew back, and cracked against Li again. Patricia could not help but admire the way her tight ass reverberated under the impact. "Answer, slave."

"I did not lie, Mistress. I-" Five strikes followed so rapidly that the pain of the first only began to register after the third. Li bucked upwards, clenching her eyes shut, but didn't let go of the chair.

"You are a liar, and if I have to restrain you I will double your punishment. It has already increased once with your insipid denials. Now answer the question, truthfully."

A tear escaped Li's eye. The little bastard had been hovering on the brink for a while now. "I was mistaken, Mistress. I thought I was all those things. But it has been so long. I failed you. I failed Master. I failed myself." The clacking of heels slowly circled around Li's bent over form. "I still believe that what I said is true. I will accept whatever punishment you have, and I will continue to strive to do better, Mistress."

The clacking had come full circle. Mistress' hand gently caressed Li's reddening skin, before withdrawing and striking again. Li let out a whimper. "And if you don't? Each of us brings something to this house. Thomas is an engineer who fashions all our restraints and devices. Francesca is a medical resident who cares for us when we are sick or injured. You? What do you offer? You are Master's flavour of the month. A toy. A broken one that does not do what it is told, by all accounts."

Li could not take that. She broke into heaving cries as the cane landed again and again. It was true. "I can play the violin!" She sobbed.

"And I can play the piano." Patricia paused from her task, "Shall we start a band? Oh do not answer that." The strikes resumed, until she finally broke the skin, then three more. On the last strike Li yelped and her legs failed her, she barely managed to cling to the chair, slumping her weight down. Her breasts squeezed out against the seat, nipple piercings small and sharp against her flesh. Patricia moved to the front of the chair, grabbed a fistful of Li's hair and wrenched her head up to face her.

Li's sight was blurred through the stream of tears, but she could make out Patricia's dyed blonde hair. A late-forties ex-cheerleader who never let go of the dream of youth, nature be damned and cosmetics be praised. She could have been Bambi Wood's sister once upon time, but the face that looked down at her now was vicious and angry. "I do not think you have what it takes to be in this household, Xiaolian. We play a lot harder than you can handle."

"Just Li, Mistress." She sniffed, ignoring the way Patricia butchered the intonation of her name, "And I beg you to let me be the judge of that." Patricia threw down Li's head.

"Then you can stay like that until someone tells you to move." Her heel-strikes receded, and Li was left alone and shaking in the darkening dining room.

#

It was close to an hour before Kyle - Master - had Li get off the chair and prepare dinner for the household. It was quite cheeky, but she took Mistress' parting words to mean that she could remain slumped over the chair like laundry, and not in the stressful position seven. It felt oddly therapeutic after the day's suspension, all the knots in her muscles eased a little.

It was to be salmon-stuffed chicken fillets for dinner with garden salad and garlic buns, a dish Li had cooked a few times in the past. However, she was a bit distracted this night. She was still clothed only in her high-heels, and mercifully an apron, but it was more than her constant exposure that bothered her. She fumbled through the cupboards and drawers of the kitchen, only half-remembering what Francesca had shown her when she first arrived. She had to navigate around a low central table of oiled teak wood that hosted a Korean grill, a little out of place amidst the sleek grey-veined black granite countertops, with a swathe of silvery appliances that could pop back into engineered hideaways.

Mistress had challenged her. "Play too hard" she said! Almost unthinkingly Li had responded, but - and this is what was leaving her unfocused - had it been a matter of her choice, or lack of choice? Or just a product of her impatience that prevented her from searching longer for a better fit for herself. She clicked her tongue in annoyance as she flipped over a fillet. Charred at the corners. She slid that one into the fridge for Francesca when she eventually got back from her shift at the hospital. If the last few days were any indication, she'd be too tired to even notice.

As she had done for every formal meal since she joined the household, Li knelt into the corner of the dining room, only standing up and turning to face the room when she was called. A little bit more of pepper here, a splash of wine there. And as with every formal meal before, cocksucker Tom was the one to call on her the most often. A little smile curled on his lips every time. And every time he paused to drink in her body in the dimmed lighting. Her smooth, creamy skin sent to a slightly darker tan under the light, perfect and unmarred except for the many thin red welts on the curve of her ass. Her breasts were squeezed like ripe melons when, careful not to bump anyone, she tucked her elbows together while refreshing their drinks. When she was on either side of him, he pinched and pulled one of her nipple rings, forcing her to clench her jaw and focus entirely on her task. She did her best to ignore the dripping wetness between her thighs as he toyed with her.

No-one in the house stood up for her of course. Not only because she was on the lowest rung of their little community, but also because it had been made abundantly clear to her that she would go through a baptism of fire before a long-term contract was considered.

Li's downcast eyes flicked up to Patricia for the briefest of moments. It was her that wanted Li gone, no doubt. She'd show her yet. Dinner went smoothly, despite her tired and aching body, no glasses were knocked over, and no elbows were jostled during her service. She was especially proud when Tom gave her tender bare ass a hard smack while she was bending over to clear some plates, and she was positively beaming when Master even complimented her on the dish! She silently prayed that Francesca wouldn't mention her brunt portion, if she even noticed at all. That would really ruin it.

There was something of an epiphany as she ate her own dinner later in the kitchen, all the while chewing and absentmindedly staring at the steam rising from the pots and pans that were left to soak. Tom had been in her position until six days ago. He had been subjected to just as much as she had for much longer. Maybe he had earned a little bit of cathartic sadism. She grimaced in disgust at her own thought. Tom was a slave, and she had no desire to please a slave. Annoyed with herself, she threw out the remains of her meal and returned to her duties.

As was their custom, Kyle and Patricia cuddled on the couch late into the evening, occasionally whispering something to one another. Tom and Li stood on either side of the parlour, feet together and hands behind their backs, ready to serve on command. Francesca had called earlier, apologetically explaining that she had to spend the night at the hospital, and Master had excused her from any duties until she was able to resume. Li tried not to show her disappointment, despite spending only a few days with her, the two slaves had become fast friends.

Since dinner was over Li wore only her black heels, while Tom was relegated to a pair of red boxer shorts. Although their eyes were downcast, Li couldn't help but notice Tom's body from the periphery of her sight. A hard six-pack against a deeply tanned skin, veins running down his muscled arms that were thick and coiled like rope around a ship's mast. His thighs made of hardened hills and valleys, and the bulge in his boxers promised something that made Li bite her lip in anticipation. A handsome man, if she didn't have to look at his damn mocking smile.

She snapped out of her reverie only when Master dismissed him for the night. She flushed maroon as he left. She had been sucking his cock all day and had hated every moment of it. What was wrong with her? Her blushing deepened as he breezed passed her on the way out, leaving behind a trail of his musky scent.

"I'll see you later." A whispered half-promise. Her heart fluttered out of fear, surely. It was difficult to think of anything else for a while, but thankfully Master ordered his nightcap shortly after that. She was only too happy to do something to distract herself, and brought his whiskey on a pewter tray. She knelt at the foot of the couch, tray held out at shoulder height but a little forward from her body so as not to obstruct the view she offered Master and Mistress. Fortunately for her, the whiskey bottle was mostly empty, so despite her numerous aches and pains she knew she could hold the position for a while at least.

Patricia poured two tumblers and handed one to Kyle. He smiled in thanks and looked down at Li.

"A few slip-ups aside, I am quite happy with our new acquisition. What do you think, pet?"

Patricia curled a lip in contempt, "Do you want my honest opinion?" Kyle nodded in response. Patricia stared right down at Li as she spoke, who kept her eyes down as she had been told to always do, "She has lied. She, a slave, has pleasured herself without permission. The only good thing I have to say is that when it comes to punishment, she takes it. So far." Patricia looked to her husband, "Honestly, I think this eastern craze you recently acquired has clouded your judgement." Li felt her heart plummet into her stomach.

"Come now, pet. Was Cess any better when she first came to us? Was Tom?"

"Francesca was a twenty year-old college student, stressed out and spinning out of control. Thomas had not so much as drunk beer before. They had legitimate excuses. She has lies. This big-titted slut would not stop bragging about how she is some perfect slave. You will be tired of her in a month, at most!"

"Pat, honey, take a breath."

"I am going to bed. Do whatever you want with this sack of meat." Patricia pulled away from Kyle, dropped the tumbler on the tray, and disappeared up the stairs towards the bedrooms. Li discreetly blinked away a few tears. Mistress' words hurt the most because she truly feared that she was right. Kyle didn't bother chasing after his wife, instead he repositioned himself on the couch, lying back with his head up on an armrest near where Li knelt.

He took his time, slowly sipping at his drink. His free hand explored as much of Li's body as it could reach, which was a lot, given his six-foot-plus height. His hands ran through her raven black hair, following the strands as they splayed over her shoulder, down her back, a shimmering ebony waterfall. His thumb stroked the rim of her little ears, down her jawline, there his hand clasped her chin. Li drew in a sharp breath, remembering to keep her eyes down, in that moment she felt as controlled as though a leash had ensnared her. She wanted him to say it. She wanted him to say it: "I am going to fuck you."

He didn't. He had given her a mind-shattering orgasm on her second day, and another on the fourth. He was both gifted and masterfully skilled, but she felt starved on the rations he gave out. Yesterday, desperate for a fraction of the pleasure, she had hastily worked herself up to an at-best tepid orgasm just as Tom walked in on her. She had been paying for that all damn day.

He raised her head up from the chin, a few slashes of hair caught her long eyelashes. He saw the desperate pleading in her eyes, the animalistic desire to be dominated and fucked. How could he miss it? It was written all over her face. It was ignored. Instead he inspected her make-up, the mascara was thoroughly smudged from the day's trials, ruining the artfully done wing-tips she had applied in the morning.

He turned her head this way and that, before pulling it back down to its place. He sat up to pour another glassful, the last of the bottle. He didn't lie back down. His measured breaths gently fell over her. Judging by the strain at his trousers, he was not only controlling her, he was controlling himself too. He lifted the tray away and set it aside.

"Thank you, Master." Her shoulders had been burning for a good few minutes already. Much longer and it would have been rattling in her hands.

"Stand up, feet together. Take one step back." She obeyed, "Hands behind your back, eyes straight forward." She also squeezed her shoulder blades together as she did so, presenting her breasts. The light cast great shadows across her stomach from them. Master sat back and smiled, sipping at his whiskey. "Turn around, face the wall. Hands behind your head." She turned, showing him her ass. A drip of wetness glistened on her inner thigh. His breathing came a little more rapidly. "Try not to get caned anymore, slave. I don't like how your ass looks afterwards."

"Yes Master."

"Pat is right, on a number of accounts. You do not bring anything to this household. You are uninvested in us, so why should we invest in you?"

His words made her think about the fortune she had entrusted to Theo, Richard's brother, to manage on her behalf. Six hundred thousand, no small sum, was tied up in the stock market. Then of course there was her violin, and her Lexus. Oh, and about thirty thousand dollars or so stowed away in her savings account. All of it Richard's legacy. She was wise enough not to breathe a word of it anyone, Master or otherwise.

"Answer, slave."

"Forgive me, Master, but you already have everything I can give."

"Hmph." An ominous noise from him, at the best of times, "Legs straight, grab your ankles." Li brought herself right down to squeeze her breasts against her legs. A move that was a little harder than she remembered, especially in heels. She curled her hands around her calves, and gripped her ankles. She couldn't see much, but she could hear Master drinking. His footsteps approached. She quivered in anticipation.

A hand found her rump, and ran along it, soothing then stinging as it ran over her skin. His hand slid upwards, palm lifting off, leaving the light strokes of his fingertips to the arch of her back.