The Hound and a Haughty Princess Ch. 02

I caressed j's offered body with my riding crop, hitting lightly her magnificent breasts, the swollen areolas, and small, hard, pink nipples, which were unable to hide the arousal.

h had collected and then aligned on the bed, in front of j, the canes of different thickness, the set tied together, to strike as one, the wooden pad and the wooden spoon, another one lined with sandpaper, the vicious bass strings, the fearsome thick leather whip.

As she was looking at them, j couldn't stop crying, at the same time keeping her position, her bust swinging lovely under the heavy, distressed breathing.

"These are instruments of impact play, slut. I don't expect that today you'll enjoy them. Pain is a sophisticated, acquired pleasure, such as smoking or drinking.

Nobody enjoys the first glass of wine or the first cigarette. Only in time drinking and smoking become a pleasure.

In the same fashion, after multiple sessions with them, you'll learn to love and crave for pain, and it will become an addiction you'll be unable to abandon."

Listening to these words, j started to cry uncontrollably, but even in agony, she wasn't unable to abandon her position, as if an invisible harness was holding her.

I looked directly into her eyes and I continued to talk.

"You still have time to say no." The Hound looked at me in shock, like a cat whose rat has been taken away.

"If you are not ready to taste this unique pleasure you can say it, I will let you go."

"Sir!" exclaimed h. Annoyed by her mistrust, I stung her cheek with the crop.

j dried her tears and looked at me surprised. Was I serious?

Of course I was serious. j's submission should be a full, willing submission: in future sessions, used, whipped, tied, she should come back to this moment and remember that her humiliation was coming as her act of will and that she couldn't withdraw from it without making empty what she had accepted until that moment.

And in truth, I knew that only one answer could come from the naked woman in front of me, collared, her mouth still full with the lingering taste of my sperm, her anus feeling empty after having hosted my erected, overbearing dick, her pussy lips swollen by excitement, her breasts teased until the very previous moment, her hands still clasped behind her neck.

For a moment there was full silence in the room.

Looking j in the eyes, I stroked h's hair, my large, faithful bitch dog. After the unrest, she looked tamed and received happily my attentions.

I could see the useless battle being fought inside j.

For a moment she contemplated the possibility of saying no: the possibility of returning to her previous life. It was going to be a life without me because after today it was clear that we couldn't go back to the old silly bantering.

Well: she would forget me, after all, I was no more than a pastime.

Still, this pastime had taken her to this room, to this promise of pain, not only, to the promise of addiction to this pain.

How many other girls could know this pleasure? Was she actually lucky, being offered to taste something rare, exclusive?

But.. it was going to become an addiction...did it mean that if bruises and wounds faded from her body she would look desperately for someone who would torment her body and give her bliss?

In her eyes I could see this fear, I could see the fascination for an unknown pleasure, and then finally I saw coming the last feeling: resignation.

j understood that her destiny has brought her to meet me, to be tricked by h, to be taken to this room. There was no way to fight her fate, even if it scared her, even if she might miss her old self.

At this point, she looked at me and in a plain tone she uttered: "I am your slave j, Sir, make me taste and love pain, I know that this is what you wish and my destiny."

The old, superficial girl had died, and a new woman was born.

She lowered her head resigned, unable to meet her eyes, and the Hound raised from the bed, excited.

"What shall we use Sir?"

I grinned and I pointed to a cane of average thickness. As the Hound took it and gave it to me, j looked at me, crying.

I rose from the bed, my penis erected.

"Bend on the table and let the Hound hold your hands. I will give you twenty blows. You'll count and every time you'll return to offer your ass to me, pushing it toward me."

j nodded and went to the table. Across it, h, standing was holding her wrists tight.

I positioned behind her, I caressed her beautiful ass, and I looked to the meaty folds of her pussy lips.

Suddenly I hit her and she swung, shouting: "One!"

She couldn't fully comply with her order, so I had to push her toward me with my hand.

I stroke again."Two!"

As she wasn't returning to position, I stroke.

"Three!"

"I am afraid it doesn't count, as you haven't offered your ass to me..."

"Please, sir!" I hit again, to be sure she learned her lesson.

She twisted her head toward me, her face wet with tears and she whispered: "Sorry Sir, I am ready for your third blow.", and saying so she pushed her ass as much as she could toward me.

The next thirteen blows were, at least for me, uneventful. As the pain cumulated, and blows were landing on areas already caned, it became more and more difficult for j to endure it.

"It's time for your mistress to help me teaching your lesson, slut."

She turned toward me: "No Sir, please!"

I hit her once more, but she knew that this didn't count.

"Why not, slave?"

"I am your slave, you should hit me..." I caned her once more and, without adding anything I switched position with the Hound.

By now j was crying uncontrollably."Please!"

She knew that h was going to be even merciless than me, as it was not common for her to have the pleasure to cane another woman.

She was going to apply all her strength and all her experience to hit those points which she knew, by her own experience, to be the most painful.

And in fact, at the first stroke, all of j's body shook under the cane.

"Sixteen! " she shouted sobbing.

By now she had learned part of her lesson though, and immediately she thrust her buttocks toward the other girl.

h's arm described a beautiful, powerful arch, and stroke again: "Seventeen! "

I could feel the desperate reflex of j to release her hands and set herself free. But it was just a fleeting feeling, because quickly she thrust her ass obediently, toward h's wild energy.

This routine was repeated two more times, and then came the latest.

I could see Hound loading slowly her arm, like a spring. It was going to be a terrible blow, more than a beginner like j could probably take.

j felt it in the air of anticipation, and begged, crying: "Please Mistress, be gentle."

h grinned at her futile words, and stroke with all the saved energy.

j shouted: "Twenty!" with all the air in her lungs. Then I let her wrists go, and she fell on the floor, lifeless, a lump of pain.

h came to me and grabbed my dick with her hand, feeling his thickness, and then knelt and took in her mouth, with the certainty that she had deserved it.

"It's time for you to go, j. From now on a new life begins for you. You'll be told what to do, where to go, whom to meet. You'll wear what you'll be instructed to, you might even be told what to eat when to piss when to shit. Now dress up and go."

j looked at me, maybe she thought that this was just a bad dream, which was going to be over once she left the hotel room.

I sat on a chair, the Hound kneeling at my foot, and we watched j's dressing.

j had come with a cute, white lacy set of bra and panties, who matched her figure perfectly.

I let her wore them, to see how beautiful she looked in them. I could read the jealousy in h's glance. This was good: I needed her jealousy, her envy, to become the anger by which she would become a fearsome mistress for j.

However, after she had worn them, I simply said: "Take them off."

"Why, sir?" she replied surprised.

"From today you won't wear any underwear unless differently instructed."

"Yes, Sir!" she said, with a cute little smile that I am sure h will make her pay for.

She took them off, Hound collected them and threw them in a dustbin.

Then j went on wearing her blouse, skirt, and short socks.

"May I leave now, sir?"

"Kneel in front of me and then leave, slave j."

So she did and eventually, I was alone with h.

"It's your time now, slut.I hope you have not grown arrogant."

"Maybe I am Sir, but I am sure you'll put me back in my place, Sir."

I like h's smart-ass answers, which give me plenty of opportunities to punish her.

I looked at the tools aligned on the bed. Actually, that display had not been made just for j's benefit; they had to be used on h too.

The bass strings and the whip would soon make Hound cry and wiggle, would transform her back and ass into a labyrinth of wounds, marks, and creases. She would have her full dose of pain, enjoy her fully, she would leave the hotel room grateful and would spend many following days nursing her battered body.

Today, I am sitting at the coffee shop on the ground floor of the building where I work. While I check some emails on my mobile, I can hear a pleasant chime, initially faint, and then closer, and stronger.

"Good morning Sir!" It's j, smiling at me, but also a little distressed.

She is wearing a business suit with a white shirt below.

"Sit down, slave."

She looks around, afraid someone might have listened. I have learned that people don't care, and then, why should I hide a simple fact?

She sits in front of me, in one of the low couches in the bar.

"Raise your skirt."

There is no risk, as she is facing the wall, but still, she looks around, slightly worried.

When she does it, I smile at the little bell attached to the clamp on her clit.

"It was a lovely way to announce yourself, j."

"May I lower the skirt now?"

"Not yet." I extend my hand to reach the clamp between her legs, and I tighten the screw that keeps it firm in clit.

A half-muffled cry escapes from j's mouth.

"It's very painful, Sir!" she says as a tear crosses her cheek.

I guess she has not yet learned to love her pain.

Her comment goes unnoticed, as I order her to get me a coffee.

She leaves at once, happy to drop the skirt, less happy about the burning pain from the clamp.

I look at her as she orders, waits for my coffee, smiles at someone she seems to know, trying to hide her ordeal.

"Here it is, Sir."

"Is it too painful, slave j?" Again, she jumps at the word slave and looks around.

"I can endure it Sir!" she says, meekly, knowing the right answer.

I extend my hand once more, and I loosen the screw a little.

"Thank you, Sir!"

I sip my coffee, and I ask about her day. We talk like two friends.

Then I ask her to wait for me at the gentlemen's toilet.

It's not the first time, still, she blushes, ashamed.

I hear the chime leaving, after a while I reach her and I take her into one of the toilet's cubicles and I close the door behind us.

She knows I will take her ass: obediently she raises her skirt and sustains herself stretching her arms against the wall, across the water closet.

Her ass still carries some marks of the last session when she tasted the bass strings for the first time.

I unbutton her shirt, and I free her ample, lovely breasts.

I grease her asshole with the cream I took with me, and then, while I squeeze her tits, I fuck her ass.

While I move inside her, the bell on her clit chimes pleasantly.

Someone knocks from outside. It always happens.

I guess he is wondering what is that shrilling sound and why it is taking so long. j turns to me, panting and concerned. What if it is her boss waiting behind the door?

I know that sooner or later the man will leave, and I don't allow this event to distract me from my pleasure.

The bell sound's frequency increases, the pitch higher, and then, when it is right I come into her, and extracting my dick I smear her globes with some of my sperm.

j turns toward me and cleans with care my penis.

I open the door and this time the man is still waiting. He looks at us startled but doesn't say a word.

j is blushing furiously but still knows she has to observe manners.

"I hope you enjoyed my anus, Sir. - she says with a clear, firm voice - am I dismissed now?"

The man has seen this proud woman countless times, moving in the coffee shop ignoring other customers, too lowly for her. Now he sees her docile and ready to please: he is confused.

We leave him there and move the main shop area.

"You are dismissed," I say, and I see her leaving the place, leaving a trail of chimes, followed by the eyes of the other customers, men and women alike.