Slave Jade (13 page)

~*~

Lisa had been in a deep sleep, but was instantly alert at the sound of the key turning in the lock. She heard the bolt slide back and squinted in the bright light. Gilbert came in carrying a small stepladder and the metal handcuffs.

Without a word he hauled Lisa to her feet, grabbing her arms and pinning them roughly behind her back. He slipped the metal cuffs around her wrists, ratcheting them securely and clicking them into a locked position.

Pressing her forward, he attached a chain to the cuffs. Still holding the chain, he forced her to walk in her awkward, bent position toward the ladder, which he had left in the middle of the room. Climbing up it he pulled the chain taut, lifting it toward the large eyehook in the ceiling. He hooked the chain over it, pulling Lisa's arms up behind her, forcing her to stay bent, face to the ground.

No greeting, not a word. Usually when Gilbert came in the mornings he was in a good mood, full of praise for his lovely slave girl. Not today. He didn't say a word, but took a heavy flogger from the footlocker.

He struck her hard, slowly and methodically covering every inch of her back, ass and thighs. Lisa grunted and moaned as the leather tresses stung her, but of course she couldn't get away. She bit her lips to keep from crying out.

He struck her again and again, in a kind of rhythmic dance, until his arm must have tired. He was breathing hard and she could smell his sweat, mingling with her own. Her back and ass were on fire from the lash.

Still without a word, Gilbert climbed the ladder and let the chain down. He removed the chain from the cuffs, but didn't remove the cuffs themselves. They were ratcheted tight from Lisa's jerking movement while being whipped, and they again cut cruelly into her wrists.

Gilbert pushed her to the mattress. As she lay slumped over, he leaned down and unlocked the cuffs, opening and removing them from Lisa's bruised, scraped wrists. He locked the whip and handcuffs in the footlocker, and, still without a word, he turned and left the room. The door locked and she was plunged back into darkness.

She moved cautiously, careful to stay on her stomach. She was thirsty and had to pee. Her back and ass stung from the lash. But it was her wrists that hurt the most. She cradled them in her hands, moaning and crooning her despair.

~*~

Hours passed. The light flicked on and Gilbert came in again, this time naked. His cock was already erect, primed by porn. Pulling Lisa up, he said, “Get on your hands and knees. Spread your cunt for me.” Lisa was slow to move, perhaps stiff from the whipping and weak from thirst and hunger. That was her problem.

Gilbert pushed her head down to the mattress. “Go on! Reach around and spread that nasty little twat for me, slut! Do it!” He grabbed her long hair and pulled her head back, only easing the pressure when she struggled to obey. He tried to press his cock into the offered opening, but Lisa's pussy was dry, and even though he was pushing hard, it wouldn't go in.

Disgusted, Gilbert bent over and spit on the entrance, rubbing it roughly for a moment to lubricate it. Again he pressed and this time slid into her tight opening, not caring if, indeed wanting to, hurt her. Lisa cried out, but he held her fast, his fingers digging sharply in her hips as he fucked her like a dog rutting with a bitch in heat.

He came fast, holding her against him until he was done. Then he roughly pushed her forward, stood and left, leaving her panting on the bed, her cunt full of his sperm.

~*~

Gilbert stood framed in the doorway, a dark silhouette in the hall light. She waited for him to lay out the terms. She was thirsty enough to listen and desperately hoped it was something she could do.

She tried to sit up in the bed but dizziness overcame her. She lay back down.

“You'll have to take
my
water first. You'll have to open your mouth, like the slave whore you are, and let me piss in it. If you do that to my satisfaction, then you can have some tap water. Do we have a deal?”

Lisa turned her head away, hugging her body, squeezing her eyes shut. She heard the door shut and the overhead light flicked out.

How much time had passed? She had no idea. For a while now she had been thinking about pickles and lemons, trying to trick her saliva glands into action. But her mouth was dry as a bone.

It was hard to keep her thoughts straight. She knew where she was, but somehow the immediacy of it no longer seemed so urgent. She was too thirsty and bone-weary to focus on it properly.

That burning resolve to make a plan, to get away, had faded to somewhere distant, nestled in her brain like a memory. It was an echo on the walls of a mind emptying to protect itself. Still there, but only a whisper.

Pickles. Lemons. Cool water cascading down a rocky fall, glistening in sunlight. She dozed a little, lovely images of water and cool green light tripping lightly over her.

Now the light was in her eyes. Real light. And his voice, ordering her to stand up, to stand at attention. Lisa struggled to obey, barely focused. He was speaking. She tried to listen, turning her face, eyes still closed, toward him.

“Lisa! Lisa! Open your eyes. Look at me.” Slowly she opened her eyes, focusing on the man in front of her. He was in his bathrobe, the sash loosely tied at his waist. “That's better. Now, about our deal. You ready to open your mouth for me, and then get a nice drink of water?

Lisa nodded, wondering why she had waited so long to agree. What was a little pee, if she could have water? Water, water, life-giving, life-sustaining water!

“I thought you'd come around. Come on, let's go into the bathroom.”

Gilbert half-pulled, half-pushed Lisa along down the little hall, and into the bathroom. He helped her climb into the bathtub and pressed her shoulder, indicating that she should kneel.

“Open your mouth. And don't move.”

Clasping her hands in front of herself like she was at prayer, Lisa obediently opened her mouth, her eyes shut, her face almost peaceful. She swayed with dizziness, but didn't fall out of position, waiting for the warm splashing stream. Even urine was wet and her mouth was like a dried out riverbed.

Gilbert stood before her, holding his cock in his hand. After a moment, his pee arced up and into her mouth, mostly hitting the target, but also splashing on her face and chest. Lisa came awake a little as the stream hit her taste buds. She roiled back a moment and her eyes opened wide, but she took it, letting the urine dribble from her mouth, trying not to taste the acrid liquid, desperate to obey.

It seemed to go forever, but he finally exhausted himself, shaking his cock toward her, flicking the last droplets into her face. “Pig,” he said, his voice a sneer. He turned on the shower overhead, startling the girl, and left the bathroom, calling out to her that she could drink what she liked while she washed up.

Lisa barely registered his remarks. Sinking down she pressed the little lever, changing the water stream from shower to bath. Cupping her hands, she filled it with water. Quickly she rinsed her mouth, spitting out the residue of his urine with disgust. Then she eagerly drank handful after handful of wonderful, wet, lovely, cold water. She drank for several minutes, finally feeling almost full from it.

Smiling for the first time since her capture, Lisa turned the water to hot and pushed the lever again to allow the shower head to bathe her in glorious hot water. Luxuriously she soaped up her body, washing herself over and over in an effort to remove every drop of his urine, any touch of his hand.

When he shouted for her to get out and towel off, Lisa obediently shut off the shower.

Maybe food would be next. What would she have to do to earn food? It must have been at least two days since the pizza incident, as she thought of the one night she'd been allowed out. Surely he had to let her eat. If she died, his sadistic fun would be over.

Gilbert appeared in the bathroom door just as Lisa finished drying off. He took the towel from her and surveyed her for a moment. “You’re getting too skinny. You look like a stick with tits.” She stared back at him, barely registering what he was saying. She didn't feel outrage at his criticism. Outrage took too much energy. She was too hungry for that. Now that she'd had something to drink, hunger had awoken with a vengeance, gnawing at her belly like a rat.

“What are you willing to do to eat, slut? You haven't reamed my asshole since you first got here. I think it's time for that again, wouldn't you agree?”

Lisa dropped to her knees on the cold tile floor, and opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue like she was waiting for the doctor to make her say, 'ah'. Gilbert smiled slowly, cruelly, and turned around, bending over and lifting his robe so his ass was bared for her.

Without hesitation, Lisa spread his cheeks and licked his asshole. She even pressed her tongue against the little opening, forcing it partway in, hoping he would be pleased and allow her more food.

Her efforts were rewarded. After a few minutes Gilbert stood, letting his robe fall back into place as he pushed her away. “Come on. Time to eat.” Time to eat! She followed him as eagerly as a puppy. Instead of taking her back to her room, as she had expected, he took her through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Kneel there by the chair,” he said, pointing toward the kitchen table. Lisa knelt, her mouth watering at the prospect of food.

Gilbert walked over to the stove and poured eggs he had already scrambled into a pan. After a few moments Lisa could smell the savory aroma of eggs cooking in butter. Gilbert scraped a mound of golden perfection onto a plate and carried it to the starving girl.

Sitting in a chair, he fed her, lifting bits of the lovely, steaming egg onto a fork and guiding it toward her mouth. Lisa ate everything he gave her, and eyed the empty plate longingly when it was done.

“That was four eggs,” Gilbert said. “I don't think you should have any more just now. You'll get sick. I'll feed you again later, if you're good. Would you like some orange juice?”

Lisa nodded, looking at him with something close to love in her face. Gilbert smiled at her, patted her wet head and poured her a small glass of juice. He held it to her lips, tilting it gently so she could swallow easily. The cup was empty all too soon, its citric kiss lingering in her mouth.

“I'm going to fuck you now, cunt,” Gilbert informed her. Lisa nodded, and let him lead her back to her room.

He positioned her on all fours on her mattress. He sat back, admiring her ass and pussy from behind. On a whim he leaned forward, snaking out his tongue to taste her. He flicked past her asshole, tonguing her cunt for several seconds. Gently he pressed a finger and then two into her love hole. He stroked and licked her for several minutes, feeling her labia swell against his mouth.

She was actually wet when he plunged into her, groaning his pleasure. This was what he wanted. A truly docile and willing slave, who took whatever he offered without making faces and struggling and crying. He should have done this sooner. Withholding food and water had worked a miraculous change in the defiant bitch. He would continue to control her this way, and to beat and fuck her regularly, until her mind was a lovely blank slate.

Only then could he begin to train her properly. To teach her to worship him, her lord and master. He should write a book about his newfound technique. He could become a true Master online, offering wisdom in how to train unwilling sub girls.

He would practice on Lisa, honing his skills. Then he would sell his knowledge to other men who wanted to control their bitchy uppity wives and girlfriends. He would be a millionaire!

But for now he would concentrate on this one girl. On continuing her training through deprivation and torture. He had to be careful about the food thing though, because he didn't want her too skinny. He didn't like the way her ribs were sticking out. He'd have to walk a fine line between starving her and keeping her just sated enough to be compliant and submissive, but still needy and on the edge.

What was required, he suddenly realized, recalling her wet pussy when he'd gone down on her, was to add a slice of pleasure. Skillfully weave the pain with enough pleasure to keep it keen. That was the missing ingredient! He would keep the little bitch on the edge of desire, begging for his tongue, his cock, his whip, his cane. It would all blend in one delicious erotic stew, where he was Master and she was reduced to nothing but a mindless and docile slave girl, with the only thought in her head how to please him.

~*~

Gilbert held the single lash. Lisa was perched on a high barstool, her thighs spread wide, pussy splayed. The whistle of the lash sounded just before it struck her inner thigh. Lisa jerked and gasped, holding onto the back of the stool to keep from falling.

“Thank you, sir!” she shouted.

“Good girl.” Gilbert held up her prize. A bite-sized chunk of ripe banana. He popped it into her open mouth, and Lisa chewed slowly, her eyes unfocused.

The lash curled cruelly around the other thigh. “Thank you, sir.” Another bite of banana.

“You want the whole banana, slave?” She nodded, eyes wide, staring hungrily at the offered food. “You can have the whole thing. But first I'm going to lash your cunt. Hold it open for me, slave. And don't close your legs, or no banana.”

The slave spread her legs wider, thrusting her pelvis forward, begging with her body for the lash. Her legs were trembling, but her face was still blank, mouth slack, eyes staring at the banana in his other hand.

Lisa screamed as the little rubber lash found its mark. This time she slammed her legs shut, moaning and rocking herself. Gilbert forced her legs apart—he wanted to see the reddened pussy. “Oh, poor baby,” he murmured, his voice sincere, as if it weren't he who had just hurt her. “Poor, poor little cunt. Let me kiss it and make it better.”