My Master's Brother Ch. 10

Noah resorted to gagging me and binding my wrists and ankles before carrying me down the stairs when I refused to behave like a dog. As though he wanted to torment me, his steps slowed as we passed the kitchen. I hadn't the energy to kick and fight given my hunger, but that didn't mean I remained silent. Rather I cursed into my gag with every slur imaginable as he led me down a set of stairs.

At the end was a door. After punching a code into a lock, it beeped and clicked. He then adjusted his hold on me and pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unbolted two locks. The room contained nothing aside from a bed that had rings with bondage straps. Several more rings had been anchored in place higher up, as well as some protruding from the ceiling. And the floor was the same spongy material that gym floors were made of. This was a place to subject me to sadistic cruelty.

I struggled in his arms, fighting to escape. Not that I could do more than hop given my hands were behind my back. At another door, he punched a code and opened it to a white tile room with a few shower heads in the corner, a toilet, and a sink. Long chains hung from above the ceiling of the shower. Shackles extended from the wall, as were more rings on the wall and floor for attaching chains and straps to.

I screamed into the gag, but it only hurt my throat. When he lowered me to the floor on my side, he said, "I'll remove these bindings after you've calmed down." Then pointed to a camera in the corner that faced where I lay. After sitting me up against the wall. he turned off the light and left me. The bastard left me. Naked in pitch black, bound, and gagged.

I did scream and roll over for a while, but his skills with ropes hindered me from any other movement. Even though the floor was hard and I needed to pee, eventually, I gave up.

After a while, Noah returned with a tray. He pushed the button code and locked additional bolts on the door. It was like a horror movie where the wealthy CEO comes home in his tailored suit to abuse people locked in his basement.

I only lay on my side, matted hair sticking to my face and probably appeared and smelled revolting.

After removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, he sat cross legged on the floor in front of me. "You get food so long as you don't speak unless given permission to."

My mouth salivated behind the gag. Deflated, I nodded. I was too weak from hunger to try anyway.

He removed the gag and bindings, and even turned when I crawled like a dog to the toilet to pee. Once I returned, he ordered me to sit in front of him with my back to the wall. It was the only way I would receive food.

"Kneel," he said.

I obeyed.

"Hands on your thighs, arch your back, and breasts forward." When I didn't act, he said. "You can be in the shackles or present yourself while I feed you. But that is the only way you eat, Ms. Smith."

That wasn't my last name. Smith was Marshal's last name. Were they so jealous that someone from my past bothered them so much. The thought disturbed me. Marshal had been part of the excuse Jonah used to kidnap me. If not for the mention of him with such hostility, I would assume he'd found me and hired them. Only out of fear did I refuse to respond.

"I'm not going to sit at your feet and beg like an animal," I spat.

"You are a Slave. I am your Master. And you will never disobey me without consequence." He stroked a small scar on my lip, and said, "Women like you spend weeks hiding indoors so no one sees the bruises and broken skin. I would find that more humiliating than the luxuries you will receive as my slave." He lifted the tray and turned to leave. As the lockbox beeped while he punched a code, I grit my teeth from his horrifying words.

"Shackles," I called out.

He glanced back over his shoulder to me, but continued pressing buttons.

"Please!"

With arrogance reeking from his face, his brow cocked.

I looked downward and muttered, "Please, Master." I sat backward and raised my wrists to the shackles to either side of my shoulders.

A smirk spread across his face when he returned and he knelt in front of me. With a cruelly slow pace, he clasped the shackles. "In this position, you need to spread your legs so I'm close enough to feed you."

I looked to the food, desperate. How I hated him, but hunger won over. As though he knew my decision, he gripped my thighs with the softest touch and slid them so my feet were to his sides. His fingers trailed up them, barely reaching my core. Despite loathing the overly attractive captor, the position and his touch excited me. Even the way he took his time studying every inch of me. And he knew my need by the swelling of my chest.

"You only get half for speaking without permission. And you don't get a shower since you defied me." True to his word, he fed me-- by hand. And with his other, his fingers dove into me as his thumb circled over the pearl that begged to be played with. Though I remained shackled to the wall, once I'd eaten, I stretched out with an arched back and rode his hand. Tormentor or not, I wanted this.

After I had my release, he unshackled me, ordered me to present-- to which I obeyed and knelt with my breasts angled upward. Once he was satisfied with the perfection of my stance, he unclasped his pants and pulled his swollen cock out. Without hesitation, I fulfilled his silent request.

"You didn't deserve that, but you have seen the reward you will receive if you please me. When the light turns on, I expect you in this position by the time I enter. When your hands are unbound they are to be on your thighs." He fastened his pants, bound my hands behind my back, and hooked my chain to the wall. And once he left, the light shut off and I remained in absolute blackness.

I could only keep track of days by the number of times he brought bland porridge, so he came about five to seven times a day, but I lost track of the number of days after a week, and whether by loneliness or fear of the darkness eating my soul, I looked forward to his return. Every time he arrived, he had a crop in hand. Any time I greeted him and I wasn't in position as he expected, he ordered me to bend forward and swatted me several times. Sometimes he ordered me on hands and knees and bathed me in cold water. A few times I was swatted before I'd awakened. Several more times I gave up on waiting and relaxed my stance before he entered. Eventually, I learned how to greet him with my body presented and a humble expression as he entered.

But many of the instances I was good, he started by letting me suck his cock. Those were the visits I loved the most, because if I did it well, he would finger me in a way I couldn't help but ride his hand. Assuming I responded to his generosity with appreciation, he would even permit me to climax. And every time the door opened, I was thankful to see him-- even the times I received nothing in return for giving him a blow job or when he would shave me as I lay in the cold shower.

The one thing I looked forward to the most was his promise to fuck me if I went a few days without him needing to discipline me. And that day was finally coming.