Stealing Cassie Pt. 02: I am Theirs

But I am grateful; more grateful than I have ever been for anything in my life. His words cut me deep. If only I could talk to him, I would tell him I would do anything for him, for them both.

Not a scintilla of light penetrates the sack that covers my head. It shrouds my head and shoulders, goes almost down to my waist. And as we move along, I feel a thrill of anticipation that shoots through my nerves. Some small scurrying creatures are awakening in my belly.

We are playing the game. I begin to wonder what the pair have planned for me now.

I picture the layout of the house as we move through it. We speed along the downstairs hall and through to the kitchen, then outside into the grounds of the house. I can feel the breeze on my calves and knees as he picks up his pace, starts to run. I jolt up and down over his shoulder; my ribs will bruise. His strength and stamina thrill me. I love to be manhandled, once more his captive prize.

The sound of their dungeon door opening is menacing; antique oak on slate slabs, the rusty creak of hinges little used.

He lowers me, and I stand. He removes the sack from my head and quickly takes my hands and, just like yesterday, secures them behind my back, gripped by his right hand.

He tells Becky, "Bring the cut-down cuffs now, Darling-Girl."

She is his Darling Girl. I am just a slave. I wish I were his Darling-Girl.

I notice how Becky's outfit. Some kind of shiny plastic or leather costume. Oh, a cat. It is cat-themed. A black zip-front crop-top and coordination pants with horizontal slashes all the way down to just below the knee, so last year now. She has matching gloves that go to her elbows, and the cutest, pussy ear headband. Her eyes are as heavily made up as always, her lips like blood. The way the vinyl clings, it shows all her sumptuous curves. Her heels are outrageous, and she looms over me.

Josh holds my arms out straight while Becky fastens separate individual cuff to each wrist. There is a large metal ring on each.

The way he grips me hurts. I tell him: "Josh, you're really hurting me, ­ not in a good way," I say.

He grabs my shoulder, turns me to face him, "Do not speak unless you are spoken to. Do you understand, slave?"

I nod.

"And when we are in the Room Of Correction, I am to be addressed as Daddy. Do you understand?"

I don't, but I nod all the same.

"Say it then."

I look at him blankly.

"Say it. ­ Say, Yes Daddy."

I feel ridiculous. But I say it; it's their game after all.

"Yes, Daddy,"

"Do you think it's funny?"

"No, Daddy."

He slaps my cheek. "Take that stupid look from off your face."

He slaps the other cheek.

"Consider that your first, and your second, warning," he says.

The slaps came keen, and the shock annoyed me. I nearly swore, But I held my tongue.

Becky comes closer, "You see, slave, you still think you are a person, don't you, a human being with a name? What was slave's name before we rescued her?"

"She never had a name, my Darling Girl. Dogs have names; cats have names. Sluts like her don't have names."

"See, slave: even Daddy says you never had a name, and Daddy is always right. You are no longer a person. You are ours from now on. You exist to please us. You have no other reason to exist."

Her words and tone of voice do not convince as Josh's do. I can tell she is almost embarrassed for herself, and for me. It reassures me in a way. I tell myself I make it easier for her. Poor Becks.

Josh says, "I don't think you quite understand yet, do you slave? He turns to Becky and says, "Are you ready, Darling-Girl?"

I am staring at the cross-frame. Josh notices my interest:

"Oh, no slave. The cross is only for good girls. The way you've been strutting around my house requires something more basic. I heard you even slept in my bed last night, and that you touched Darling-Girl. Is that true slave?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"And did you enjoy touching Darling-Girl?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"I didn't hear you. Louder."

"Yes, Daddy!"

"Better!"

"But I did not give you my permission to touch Darling Girl, did I? So you need to be punished for your impudence, your brazen familiarity."

They take one of my arms each and march me to the centre of the room.

Becky goes to the wall facing me and begins to lower something with a rope.

"Look up Slave," Josh says.

I see a large metal hook coming down from the ceiling, lowered by Becky, I surmise. Soon it dangles in front of me. Josh now connects the hooks on my wrist cuffs together by a six-inch leather strap that is then attached to the hook that hangs from the ceiling.

He comes to me, and I see he has the black leather ball-gag.

"Open your mouth, slave."

I obey, and he pushes it brusquely between my lips and fastens the strap. It fills my mouth, and I feel that at any moment I might gag, or vomit.

Looking at Becky, he says, "Now, Darling-Girl."

The hook starts to rise, and my hands go up as well, higher and higher until I am stretching, reaching high, almost on my tiptoes. The pull and strain on my upper arms. My shoulder muscles burn. For a moment I think I am going to be hauled right up into the air, but just as my feet are about to leave the ground, it stops. I'm in stranded in a precarious pose, barely balancing on the balls of my bare feet, I feel I might topple and swing, not be able to regain my footing.

"Come over and enjoy her, Darling-Girl," he calls to Becky.

Becky is looking me over. "She is such a sweet slave, isn't she Daddy?"

"She is now we have her restrained, much prettier."

"Look at her poor little titties," Becky says, and reaches out with both hands and pinches both my nipples.

I want to cry out, but the gag does its job. I start to twist to avoid another pinch.

"Daddy," Becky says, "Slave doesn't appear to appreciate my attention. And I'm trying to be ever-so-nice."

"Oh, I think she does," Josh says. "She's just playing hard to get. The little slut is such a tease. Try biting her. A nip here," he says, pointing to my side, level with my breasts. And here."

Becky comes and stands behind me, slightly stoops, so her face is at the level Josh has indicated.

"Just here?" she says, looking up at Josh.

He nods. Before I know it, her front teeth sink into my flesh at the spot Josh has just indicated. I can tell she is holding back when she bites, but still, it is painful, and so hard she will leave teeth marks. Then she is like a terrier with a rat, shakes her head with my flesh between her teeth. Grrrrr! The sensation is delicious.

Her mouth moves about my torso, nipping me here and there, occasionally her teeth snap shut and linger in one spot for longer, growls with a shake of her head, drawing up my flesh, stretching it. While she bites, both her hands move over my body, gently caressing me. She runs them up and down my ribs which are showing through my skin because of how I am pulled upwards and stretched, becoming a flesh cage her painted nails rattle across.

Josh is in my face. "Do you like what Darling-Girl does."

I nod my head.

Becky runs both her hands up over my sides and up under my armpits. She continues up the inside of my arms to my wrist, then back again, then turns to Josh and says, "She is delicious."

She unzips the short zipper of her top and peels away vinyl. I hear it rasps when peeled from her flesh.

I can hear the excitement in her tone, "Oh Slave, you are such a fucking slut. You make me so fucking hot."

She is behind me, begins to rub her breasts across my back. I love the sensation of their softness against me.

"Such a sweet, sweet slave," Becky says. "The sweetest ever."

Josh steps forward. "Stop it, Darling-Girl: she likes it too much. She is not supposed to be enjoying herself. She still needs to learn how to be a good slave."

Becky stands to her full height, pushes her breasts against my back. I feel her breath feather the nape of my neck. It cools my flesh. She bites me again as her arms come round me to take my breasts. She plays with my nipples while sinking her teeth slowly into the side of my neck. She rotates my nipples between her fingers before pinching hard like a spiteful girl. It really hurts,­ seriously hurts, and I grunt out my displeasure. Teeth that snap, nails that scratch, and finger that squeeze, she thrills me so. Waves of shivering pleasure fizz through my nerves, synapses flare and flare, until I'm stir-fry sizzling.

Her teeth encroach on my throat, gently nipping over my windpipe. Her need for me is palpable, radiates from her. She is not acting now. I see that having me at her mercy has filled her with a passion that is off the scale, one that totally animates her. She is a rabid pet, a hungry creature not sure if this new prey she has at her mercy is all it seems. And so she continually snaps at me, sampling me. She moans in pleasure with each fresh taste of me.

Her lips travel down, nipping, the licking, then biting, enflaming my flesh as she goes.

And then Josh: "This is for being such a bad houseguest," he says.

Before I can think or look around to face him, something slashes across my buttocks. I count them, five times: thrash-thrash-thrash-thrash-thrash.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

The pains sears through me. My legs buckle and fail. I hang helplessly for a moment. Blackness.

*****************************************************************

For a moment I think I'm back in bed at home. But then the burning of my butt-cheeks insist on reality. It all comes back in an instant, how they strung me like a brace of freshly killed game. Darling-Girl and her bites. Josh and the paddle. The pain sings to me about unholy pleasure. I remember it all and my cunt hums with need.

I throw back the sheets, stand and go to the long mirror to examine myself. I turn and look over my shoulder at my backside as best I can. I twist and study myself, see flesh raw with distress.

"The stinging will soon subside," a voice calmly says.

I spin on my heels to see Josh sat in the chair in the corner.

"Oh! You startled me," I say. I look for Becky, but there is no sign of her. I ask where she is.

"Becky has let me down, Cassie. She got carried away with herself, started behaving as if tonight was for her pleasure. And of course, that is not what this all about ­ is it now?"

"I thought that's why I'm here. For yours and Becky's pleasure.

Partly. But our time in the dungeon is all about your education."

"Where is she now?"

"She has had to take your place."

I think of Becky down in the dungeon, perhaps stung up as I had been. Such a spiteful glee to think of her like that.

Josh stands up and comes to me and takes me in his arms, a fortress wall of safety, all I need. He holds me to him with such tenderness, kisses my hair gently. I love being naked like this in his arms while he is clothed. His cologne intoxicates my mind; even the just washed freshness of his shirt stirs me.

Then we're kissing. His large hands, one on the back of my shoulders, the other at the base of my spine pulling me into him. His erection through his pants presses into me. It calls my name.

He whispers into my ear, "Lie down on the bed, and I will soothe your pain."

He releases me from his embrace, set me free like a hand reared bird tossed into the air from a capturers palm. I get on the bed and lie down while he undresses. I watch intently, see him naked now, his cock jutting outrageously. The sight of his body more than I ever imagined. It stirs me profoundly; his shoulders reassuringly broad, muscles defined as if etched, his abs like wave ghosts rippled in drying sand.

I settle myself on the bed, anticipating his joining me, drawing his muscled nakedness to me.

But first, he goes to the dresser and picks something from off the top. It is something he has brought along with him because it was not there earlier. When he gets close, I see it is a bottle of fragrant lotion. He unscrews the lid, tips it, and dispenses blobs into his palm.

"You need to lie on your belly."

I do as he says. I feel the mattress sink as he joins me His large hand administer the silky cream and I immediately experience the pleasure of its cooling balm on my sore buttock cheeks.

As he massages in the lotion, he says, "My very own recipe, you know. Now doesn't that feel better?

"Mmm. You have a fabulous touch."

As he rubs my flesh gently but determinedly while he asks, "How are you enjoying our games, Cassie?"

I don't know what to tell him. Does he want to hear how much it thrills me to be used by them ­ or should lie and say I hate it, say I want to get away from them? Perhaps that is what he wants to hear ­ that I want to escape. Then they would have to capture me, have an excuse to punish me.

But to finally have him to myself is a dream come true. "I like this game best," I say.

His fingertips knead my rump, soon sliding deep into the cleft of my butt, brushing against my anus. And then he runs the tip of his cock from the base of my spine and on down between my butt cheeks. For a moment I think he wants to take me there, but the sensation passes, and he guides his cock to its rightful place, rubs it over cunt, my clit.

"Turn for me," he says,

He helps me adjust my position.

I am on my back looking up into the intensity of his eyes as he prepares to fuck me. There is such desire for me in them.

I do not need to guide him like I always have to with Ian. Again, he rubs the end of his cock over my clitoris, along my labia, over and over, applying more pressure each time. Then he pushes himself into me with brutal urgency. One enormous surge and he breaches me. His thrust takes him to my core and our pubic bones grind. Then begins his relentless fucking.

I draw up my knees and encircle his body with my legs and squeeze his flanks with my thighs, my calves, while my ankles press into his backside, pushing at him, encouraging him to pick up his pace.

His arms go up to support himself. Straight as pillars of marble. He looks down on me from his raised vantage, looks at me so calmly. The way he fixes me with his steel-grey eyes contrasts with the urgency of his thrusting hips. He looks into my eyes with unflinching steadiness as if he is searching for all my secrets. But I am an open book; I have no secrets. None he might understand if I were to tell.

"God, Cassie! You are so sweet and tight."

His pubic bone rubs insistently at my clit. I am going to cum. I never have, ever, not once, cum while being fucked by anyone. Usually, it has to be fingers or tongue. But Josh has an understanding and skill so rare in a bloke. My breathing is furious, marathon run crazy. He reads me and adjusts his pace to please me.

My orgasm! A New Year's Eve midnight. Him groaning like a heifer when he cums, he judders and jerks as his cum gushes into me. I see it in my mind, how it pumps from out of his cock and into my core, and I thrust my hips to take all I can. My arms go to pull at his shoulders, to bring him down on me so that our bodies will be together. But he is strong, maintains his raised posture, and I find myself drawing myself up to him so that my torso goes up from the bed. My breasts push against him, and I cling as tightly as if I were way high on a precipice.

When our passions subside, he rolls onto his side with me still wrapped around him like ivy round an oak. He kisses me deeply, which is so nice after his brutal lovemaking. Ian used to turn from me as soon as he had done.

I think about Ian, and it all comes back to me, how I will have to face him again.

"What did Ian say when you went to him at the gate?" I ask.

"He was mad," Josh said.

"He has such a temper."

"I managed to calm him. He won't be troubling you again. He says you can get your things when he is at work. Never wants to see you again."

It's sad Ian does not want to talk; after everything we've been through, all we have shared. We did have some good times. But deep down I know I am glad to be free of him.

"Are you going to stay with us, Cassie," Josh says.

"Until I'm sorted ­ if you don't mind . . . You Don't do you. Mind that is?"

"There is one condition."

"Oh?"

"The game. Your education. You have a lot to learn."

"What about my job, how will I get to work?"

"You can borrow Becky's fiat 500.­ Can you drive?

"Of course."

" We were going to get-shut of it, now that she had the Range Rover. And that reminds me, I'd better check how darling girl is doing. You coming?"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Before we go down to Becky, he binds my wrists, and once again the black hood is pulled over my head. He picks me up and carries me through the house and out into the night.

Once we are in the dungeon, he puts me down and positions me just-so and then takes off the hood. What a sight to see Becky hanging naked, just as I had been only two hours earlier. Her hair is wild about her, and her eyes betray tears, the ruined mascara tracking across her soft cheeks. There is anger in her eyes for her pride in ruins. She must be so humiliated to have me view her in such a state; the perfect Becky, Josh's princess, his Darling Girl. Yes, she must be sick to the core.

And do I feel pity for her? Some. But for the most part, it thrills me to see her reduced to this.

I can tell that she wants to say something, that inside she is seething.

She says nothing.

He goes to the rack chooses a riding crop, returns to stand by my side. He puts his arm around me as he speaks to me softly:

"Just look at her, Slave, how pathetic she has become. This is what happens when selfishness gets the better of a person. I had such hopes for this one; she worked so hard to become my Darling-Girl. Now she is back where she started: a mere slave,"

Becky, her voice almost a whisper, "Oh, Daddy, I was stupid . . . I understand now how selfish I was. I am so very, very sorry. Please say you forgive me."

"Sorry is not enough. You need to make amends, forgiveness earned."

He reaches out with his riding crop and briskly taps her nipples, each in turn. How quickly they stiffen. She winces at the kiss of leather.

He walks around her, striking her playfully as he circles: backside, flanks, the tops of her thighs ­ front and rear, her calves. She cries a resentful "ouch" at each WHACK!

"A good thrashing is in order, don't you think, slave?"

Is he is talking to Becky or me? Oh, it's me, he's asking me.

"Yes, Daddy," I say. And, without thinking, I add, "She deserves to be punished, Daddy, beaten hard for being so gorgeous, so rich, so cared for by her Daddy. She never appreciated any of it, Daddy."

He considers my words, says, "Yes, You have a point, slave. It is always the gorgeous ones who cause me problems. You see, in their arrogance, they forget themselves, become bumptious with vanity and pride, think they can rise above their station on their looks alone. But see where it gets them . . ."

He thwacks her backside three times ­ unnecessarily hard I think. I wince for poor Becks as she cries out in genuine pain."

"Tut, tut tut, this will never do. Too much noise," he says to her.

He comes to me and takes my arm and positions me facing Becky, less than inches from her. I am barefooted; she has on heels. She towers over me.

"Stay just there, slave," he tells me.

He fetches a footstool, asks me to step aside when he places it in front of Becky.

"Up you go, slave."

He lifts me bodily up on to the stool so that I stand eye to eye with Becky. She looks into my eyes intently, and I no longer see the affection we shared earlier, now I see only resentment.

"Now, slave you are to kiss your fellow slave. Put your mouth over hers and slip your tongue between her lips. Your mouth is to be her gag, so If I hear one sound escape the little bitch's lips, I will thrash you too."