A Painful Lesson

Damien shut the front door of the house behind him, pausing in the entryway to listen for a moment. He smiled, satisfied to himself at the silence by which he was meant. He set the mail, mostly bills, as usual, on the table next to the front door and ran up the stairs two at a time, loosening his tie and shrugging off his jacket as he walked into the Master bedroom.

He threw the jacket and tie across the bed as he unbuttoned and peeled off the light blue dress shirt, which he then wadded into a ball and tossed it across the room, watching as it sailed perfectly into the open laundry hamper in the corner. He kicked off his shoes as he undid his belt, allowing his suit pants to slide down his legs to puddle on the floor at his feet. Bending to pick them up, they too went on the bed with the jacket and tie. Then he removed his boxers and socks, tossing them into the hamper in a wide arc just as he had the shirt. One sock hung on the edge of the hamper, giving it the appearance of a tongue lolling out of a wide open mouth.

Damien slid open the door to his closet and took down a pair of black jeans and a black cotton dress shirt. He walked across around the end of the bed to the large oak dresser, sliding open the top drawer, and took out a pair of white socks, then back around to the side of the bed nearest the closet. He picked up the black jeans and stepped into them, leaving the fly unbuttoned as he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his socks. Stretching his body and arms forward, he managed to grab the black boots sitting just inside the closet door with his fingertips, and pull them to him. He slid his feet into them, and stood, the black shirt in his left hand.

As Damien slipped on the shirt and began buttoning it up, he let his mind drift, thinking about the events he had planned for the evening. As he rolled up the left sleeve of his shirt to just below his elbow, he glanced at his watch. Six-fifteen. His guest would arrive in another forty-five minutes. Damien grinned at the thought of coming events, tucking in the tails of the shirt and fastening the button-fly of the jeans. He filled his pockets with the normal mundane items of life, then took the wide black leather belt down from its hook, threading it through the loops of his jeans as he walked out of the room and down the stairs.

Damien paused at the bottom of the stairs, catching sight of his reflection in the full-length mirror next to the front door. Straight black hair, receding in the front, coming to a widow's peak in the center and just beginning to gray at the temples. Ice-blue eyes under dark, heavy brows. A military mustache, also touched with gray, under a long, aquiline nose. Five feet eleven inches, one hundred and ninety-five pounds of lean muscle. He smoothed down the front of the black shirt and walked into the kitchen.

Damien filled a bucket with ice from the freezer and walked to the basement door, fishing the key out of his pocket. He unlocked the door and headed down the steps, hearing the sound of chains dragging across concrete as he descended. He flipped on the light switch at the bottom of the stairs and smiled at her.

Rebecca kneeled on the hard concrete floor, completely nude except for the leather collar locked around her neck. A heavy chain had been attached to the collar, the other end attached to a hook in the wall, to keep her from roaming more than six feet. The bathroom door stood open next to her, and he could see that her long golden hair was still wet from her bath.

"Greetings Master." She said, her eyes lowered in respect, hands resting palms up on her thighs. "Your unworthy slut welcomes you home, and awaits the continuation of her punishment."

Damien sat the ice-bucket on the bar, then walked past her, into the bathroom. As he stepped through the door, the motion detector caused the lights to flicker on. He'd installed it to make sure she couldn't provide light for herself from the bathroom while she was being punished. The only time the lights came on was when someone was in the cubicle. The rest of the time, she was to remain in the dark, chained to the wall. It was designed to give her time to think about her transgressions.

Damien bent down and reached across the tub, picking up the enema bag, feeling it to ensure it had been recently used. The scent of Rebecca's perfumed bath oils wafted up to him. He straightened the damp towel left to dry on the rack and walked back out of the bathroom. The lights remained on, timed to go out after two minutes of no detected motion.

He took a folding chair and placed it in front of her, with the back to her, then straddled it, resting his arms on the back and looking down at her. His eyes drank in her waist length golden hair, her kneeling five foot seven inch frame, her perky 34C breasts with the golden rings through her dark pink nipples. He let his eyes move down her body, to the smooth waxed area between her thighs. He saw the puffy pink lips of her cunt, and the glint from the overhead light off the gold ring through her clit as it peaked from beneath its hood.

"Look at Me." He commanded.

Rebecca immediately raised her head, her dark green eyes, under perfectly sculpted golden brows, looking into his ice-blue ones. He could tell she'd spent a good part of the day crying. Her full lower lip quivered slightly as he studied her.

"Did you prepare yourself as instructed, slut?"

"Yes Master. Your slut administered an enema to herself, after which she bathed, washed her hair, and waxed her legs and Your cunt, just as You had instructed, Master."

He smiled at her choice of words, and noticed the barest hint of a smile play at the corners of her mouth.

"Do you understand why you are being punished, slave?" He asked her quietly.

"Because I have displeased you, Master." Came her soft reply.

"But do you know how you displeased Me? Do you understand what you did that warranted punishment? It's important for you to understand, slave."

He watched as a line formed between her brows and she frowned thoughtfully, unconsciously drawing her lower lip between her front teeth and chewing on it.

"This girl is not certain what she did, Master, is only certain that she displeased you."

Damien sighed and stood up. He walked over to the bar and used the tongs to drop three ice-cubes into a double old-fashioned glass. Then he grabbed the bottle of Seagram's 7 and poured a double shot over the ice. He reached under the bar and drew out a can of 7-Up, popping the top of it and pouring it into the glass until it was full. He stirred his drink with a plastic stirrer, then walked back over to the chair, turning it around and sitting down on it, stretching out his legs towards her and crossing them at the ankles. Damien sat and sipped his drink for a moment, looking down at her. She kept her eyes lowered in respect, waiting for him to break the silence.

"How long have you been with Me, slave?" He asked after what seemed an eternity. The sound of his voice after the silence which preceded it caused her to jump.

"Six month, two weeks and four days today, Master." She answered.

"And are you happy here with Me, slave?"

"Yes Master. A girl is very happy. Your slave loves You Master."

"I know that you love Me. And I love you." He told her, watching her face closely. He saw the slight flinch as she heard him speak of his feelings for her, and saw the moment of panic in her eyes as they quickly flickered up to meet his, before lowering again in respect.

"That is why you are being punished, slave. I know you have issues. I know you were abused, physically and emotionally, as a child. I know that you were abused, physically and emotionally, by both of your previous Masters. But you are Mine now. I need you to accept the love I offer you, slave."

"Yes Master." She whispered.

"Don't just 'yes Master' Me." He snapped, his voice rising as he stood, causing her to jump again. "You are a painslut. You enjoy it when I beat you, don't you?"

"Yes Master."

"You enjoy it when I drip candle wax and use ice on your nipples and clit?"

"Yes Master."

"You enjoy it when I'm rough with you, when I bite you, when I pull your hair?"

"Ohhhhh…yes Master." She breathed. He could see between her spread thighs that her cunt lips had swollen and were beginning to glisten with her dew.

Damien took a step towards her and crouched down, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head sharply upwards, his gaze boring into her. He could see the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

"You are perfectly happy to be the slave to the Beast within Me, and yet you fear the Man that is also within Me. Master is not just one or the other. Why do you fear My love?"

Rebecca burst into tears, the moisture that had formed in her eyes spilling over and running down her rosy cheeks.

"Because the people that love Me always leave Me!" She sobbed. Damien remained crouched there, looking at her for a moment, trying to think of something to say. He was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of the doorbell. He stood, releasing her hair roughly and letting her head drop forward.

"I'll be right back, slut. We have a guest tonight."

Without watching for her reaction to this last bit of news, he turned and walked back up the stairs, out of the cellar, and to the front door.

Damien pulled open the front door and saw, standing on the porch, a man about five foot eight inches tall, 215 pounds, with thinning sandy brown hair and close-set, almost piggish brown eyes. The lower half of his round face was adorned by a graying mustache and goatee, and when he smiled, he revealed a mouthful of crooked, tobacco stained teeth. Like Damien, he was dressed all in black, consisting of black leather jeans, a black Harley-Davidson t-shirt, a black leather jacket, and black motorcycle boots. He had over his shoulder a pair of black motorcycle saddle bags, with the Harley-Davidson logo worked into the leather. Over the mans shoulder, Damien could see the black and chrome motorcycle sitting parked in the driveway behind Damien's black Bronco.

"Glad you could make it, Ike." Damien said, holding out his hand. The man on the porch took the proffered hand and squeezed it in a bone-crushing grip, pumping it vigorously a few times.

"My pleasure, man. Or at least it will be." Ike chuckled as he looked around. "Where is my victim?"

Damien took Ike by the arm and steered him towards the basement door.

"I have her down stairs in the basement, chained up. She's been down there since yesterday afternoon. I have it completely sound proofed, and most of the time I've had her in the dark. Giving her time to think."

"Sound proofed, huh?" Commented Ike, heading down the stairs after Damien. "That'll come in handy tonight."

"It often does." Damien said, turning to grin at Ike as they reached the bottom of the stairs. He waved his hand in the direction of Rebecca, still kneeling chained where he had left her.

"Ike, this is My slave. You can just call her slut…or whore…or cunt. Whatever's convenient." He walked over and grabbed a fistful of Rebecca's hair and jerked her head up so she could see Ike. "Slut, this is Ike, but you can just call Him Master."

"M-Master?" She repeated, a look of terror in her eyes.

"Yes, Master." Damien told her, releasing his grip and moving the chair back by the bar. He sat down on it and crossed His legs to watch. "I'm giving you to Ike, to do with what He pleases. He is your Master, you are His slut. Understand?"

Rebecca gulped, then nodded her head slowly. Ike drew back his hand and slapped her sharply across her left cheek.

"Who am I cunt?" He roared.

"Master." Came Rebecca's hasty reply, a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth.

"And what are you?" Ike demanded, hand raised for another blow.

"Slave, Master…this girl is a slave."

Ike smacked her again, causing her head to snap to one side.

"Whose slave?" He prompted.

Rebecca swallowed hard, her mind trying to figure out what had happened. Her Master had told her He loved her…then given her to another? How could this have happened? Was she truly that unworthy? She tried to form the words she knew Ike was waiting to hear. He raised his hand again.

"Your slave, Master. This unworthy whore is Your slave." She choked out quickly. Ike smiled and lowered his hand, taking a step closer to inspect the chain attached to the collar. He found the lock, and turned to face Damien.

Damien fished the key to the lock out of his pocket and tossed it to Ike.

"Sorry about that." He said. "Almost forgot."

Ike caught the key and unlocked the chain, letting it drop with a heavy clank to the concrete floor. Then he buried his hands in golden hair and yanked her roughly to her feet, pulling her around to face him, so his face was only an inch from hers.

Rebecca could smell cigarettes and beer on his breath as he studied her face. Then he turned her around again and shoved her across the basement, towards the stocks her Master had built. He placed her head and hands in the spaces provided, then slid the top half of the stocks into place, locking her into position. The stocks were only about three feet high, causing her to bend at the waist, her ass raised behind her. She had been in the stocks many times, since her Master (former Master, screamed a part of her brain) loved to cane her ass when she was locked in them. She was terrified at the thought of what this man (My Master, screamed that part of her brain) might do to her.

Ike took the beam propped against the wall behind the stocks and walked behind her, pressing it between her legs and sliding it into the slot built to hold it securely. The beam was positioned so that it caused Rebecca to rise up on her toes, with the padded end of the beam resting just under her cunt, leaving her ass completely exposed.

Ike walked around the stocks, looking over Rebecca, occasionally reaching out his hand to caress her ass or to pinch her nipple, inspecting her. He reached under her, his hand resting on the beam, and stroked her cunt, fingers finding the ring through her clit and tugging sharply on it. Then he walked over to where he had dropped his saddlebags and picked them up.

"Low ceiling in here, but I think I can still get enough clearance for the six footer." He told Damien, taking a bullwhip from one of the pouches. He uncoiled the whip and snapped it a few times, getting the feel for it, then took his position directly behind Rebecca.

Ike raised the whip to the level of his head, his arm cocked back so the whip dropped down behind him. Rebecca bit on her lower lip, waiting for her punishment to begin. She heard the whip whistling through the air as Ike sent his arm hurling forward, then felt the sharp sting as it bit deeply into the soft flesh of her ass. She bit her lip harder to keep from crying out.

Ike drew back the whip and sent it whistling forward again…and again…and again. He gave her twenty lashes across her ass, until the flesh was bright crimson and criss-crossed with bleeding welts, then redirected his attention to her shoulders, giving her ten lashes across each. Rebecca continued biting her lip until it bled as the whipping continued, then began whimpering softly, tears running down her cheeks. By the time Ike had delivered the tenth lash to her ass she was screaming with each kiss of the whip. By the time he had finished with her ass and moved to her shoulders, she had stopped screaming and was moaning continuously.

Damien stood up from the chair, and walked over in front of the stocks, grabbing a handful of Rebecca's now sweat-dampened hair and yanking her face up to his.

"Did you enjoy that, slave?" He asked.

"No Master." She whispered hoarsely.

"I'm not your Master. He is. Call Me Sir."

Rebecca blinked, then croaked out "No Sir…this slave did not enjoy that."

"Did it hurt?" He asked her.

"Yes M…Sir."

"Thought you enjoyed pain, whore." He said, releasing his grip and letting her head drop again. He looked across the stocks at Ike behind her, grinning, and winked. Damien went to the bar and fixed himself another 7&7 as Ike retrieved the saddlebags and reached inside the other pouch.

Ike walked to the front of the stocks and opened his hand, showing her the box-clamps on his palm. Then he moved to the side, reaching under her, and positioned the first box clamp over her left nipple. He tightened it down until he heard her gasp…then gave the screw another half-twist for good measure. He left the other clamp, attached to the first by a chain, sitting on the beam as he walked around behind her and to her right side. Then he retrieved the clamp, strung the chain under the beam, and repeated the action on her right nipple. With the chain pulled taut under the beam, each time she moved it caused the clamps to tug painfully on her swollen nipples.

Ike walked to the front of the stocks again, and unzipped the fly of his leather jeans, letting her see his swollen cock. It was at least nine inches long, and as big around as her wrist. Rebecca began to panic, wondering how she was going to swallow that thing if he wished to fuck her face. Ike looked over at Damien, who had reclaimed his seat on the folding chair.

"Ever fuck this whore's ass?" He asked.

"Yes, many times." Damien affirmed.

"Nice and tight?" Ike queried.

"Oh, yes…she has quite a wonderful ass. And she loves having a hard cock in it."

Ike looked down at Rebecca, who was now clearly terrified by the line of questioning this man…her Master…and her former Master were pursuing. Their exchange seemed so casual, as if they were discussing a car or motorcycle. Or an animal, she thought. That's all I am. An animal. Property.

"Always use lube?" Ike asked Damien.

Damien shrugged. "More or less." He answered. "Sometimes I'd use astroglide, other times I'd just fuck her cunt first and get My cock nice and slick."

Ike grinned evilly and looked down at Rebecca. She quickly lowered her eyes, but not before he saw the terror there.

"I'm going to dry-fuck her ass." He said matter-of-factly, and began moving around the stocks to take position behind her.

"No…please." Rebecca moaned softly. Ike smacked her right asscheek, fingers catching the welts from the whip.

"What did you say, cunt?"

"No Master…please don't dry fuck My ass." She babbled. Rebecca had worried that He was going to make her suck that thick cock…now He was talking about shoving it in her ass with no lubrication. He'd split her in two!

"My ass!" Snapped Ike, taking her buttocks in his hands and spreading them apart roughly. He moved forward so the swollen head of His cock pressed against the puckered rosebud of her anus. With a growl he thrust his hips forward…driving a quarter of his cock into her.

Rebecca screamed as he thrust into her, feeling her sphincter stretch, certain she was being torn apart. Ike remained inside of her for a moment, then stroked slowly back, so just the head remained within her. Then he thrust again, this time driving half his cock into her.

Each thrust into her caused her body to jerk, pulling on the chain connecting the clamps tightly biting into her nipples. Each thrust into her felt like a red hot poker the width of a telephone pole being shoved deep inside her ass. Each time Ike stroked back, she prayed that he would have mercy and stop. And each time he thrust forward again, driving more of his monster cock into her, causing the chain to tug painfully at her nipples. The weight of his body fucking her ass pressed her pierced clit against the padded edge of the beam, causing the gold ring to cut into her tender skin.

Ike continued thrusting in and out of Rebecca's tight ass, feeling the muscles protest, then finally surrender to his invasion, until he finally managed to shove his entire length into her. His body pressed against the still bleeding welts across the cheeks of her ass, his hands holding firmly to her hips, enjoying the feeling of her body tightly squeezing His cock. He knew he couldn't hold out much longer.