The Compound (4 page)

Was it? Alexis had no idea, she realized. She wasn’t even entirely sure she wanted the kind of fulltime, 24/7 servitude where you put your needs and desires entirely secondary to those of your Master, voluntary though it might be. She was sexually masochistic, yes, and believed she could be submissive to the right man in the right circumstance, but realized she wasn’t entirely sure what that even meant.

Don’t overanalyze,
she told herself.
This is why you are here—to learn and gain insight. You’ve been handed a trainer, free of charge. Don’t look a gift Master in the mouth.

Suddenly curious, she asked Marta, “Are you owned? I mean, I get it you’re a staff slave here at The Compound, but do you belong to someone in particular? How does it work here?”

Marta ducked her head shyly, a pink blush moving over her smooth dark skin. “Yes. I belong to Mistress Miriam.” She smiled now, a wide, beautiful smile, the love light evident in her eyes. She glanced suddenly at the clock on the wall. “Now, no more talking. I have to get you done.”

Numbing cream or no, the waxing of
Alexis’s most delicate parts hurt like hell, but at least Marta was relatively quick and efficient about it. When she was done, she smoothed cool aloe vera gel over the area. “It won’t hurt so much next time,” Marta promised. “You’ll be groomed once a week, or more if necessary. You must always be completely smooth. You want to see?”

She led Alexis over to the large bank of mirrors over the sinks. “That redness will go away in a few hours,” she reassured Alexis as they both stared at her denuded body. Alexis couldn’t quite decide how she felt about it. She’d thought she would look like a little girl, but in fact she looked every bit a woman, her sex
pooching provocatively between her legs like a flower waiting to bud.

After a few seconds, Marta said, “You can admire yourself later. Let’s get your hair and makeup going. She pointed to a stool and Alexis sat dutifully, letting Marta blow dry and brush her long, thick hair into a shiny, silken curtain around her face and down her back.

“Turn toward me so I can do your makeup,” Marta instructed. Alexis rarely wore much makeup, and was a little apprehensive as Marta brushed and sponged various liquids and powders onto her face. But when she turned back to the mirror she was both startled and pleased by the results. Her skin looked dewy and luminescent, her eyes large and sparkling, her lips like the softest crushed rose petals.

“Three minutes to go,” Marta said triumphantly. “Come on. I’ll show you your room.” She led Alexis out of the bathroom and down the hall to the third door on the right, which was ajar. Inside Alexis saw that her clothing had been neatly piled on top of the small bureau, her suitcase resting beside it. The mattress was narrow but the duvet looked soft and clean, with a plump pillow at the head of the bed.
On the wall above it hung a red nylon dog leash and a black riding crop.

“You saw how I was kneeling when you entered the bathroom?” Marta asked, drawing her attention away from the implements on the wall. Alexis nodded. Marta pointed to the throw rug on the wooden floor beside the bed. “Kneel there in that position. It’s called the at-ease position. Face the open door.” She watched as Alexis complied.

“Back straighter.” Leaning down, Marta placed her hand on Alexis’s shoulder. “Spread your thighs more. Master John will want to have a good view of your smooth cunt.” This was said matter-of-factly as Marta tapped at Alexis’s thigh with her bare toe. “Good. Hands resting naturally on the thighs. Eyes straight ahead. Chin up.” She put a finger beneath Alexis’s chin. “Better. Now stay that way. Master John said not to move.” She bent down and kissed the top of Alexis’s head. “Good luck!” And she was gone.

Alexis’s
heart had slipped into a higher gear. Any second now she would hear the clicking of Master John’s black boots in the hall. She drew in a breath and let it out slowly, willing herself to calm down. Her nipples were perking, her newly-bared sex twitching in anticipation of the Master’s return. She clenched and unclenched her hands on her thighs as she waited in nervous anticipation of his return.

I belong to Mistress Miriam.
Marta’s face had blossomed with pure happiness when she’d said that. Were they lovers? Though Alexis considered herself primarily straight, she had enjoyed the occasional sexual romp with a girlfriend, though it had been years since those wine-soaked sleepovers.

She thought about the way Mistress Miriam had touched her after the caning, bringing her to an intense orgasm. She could easily imagine falling in love with the regal, beautiful
Domme, if you were hardwired that way.

Her thoughts drifted then to Master Paul and she sighed. Probably it was for the best she hadn't been assigned to him. She wasn’t at all attracted to the handsome but cold Master John, and that was all to the good. She could focus on her training and submission, without her emotions getting scrambled into the mix.

Where is he? It’s been at least ten minutes, maybe longer.

Alexis shifted on the throw rug, her knees a little sore. She glanced down at her bare body and spread her thighs for a better view of her denuded pussy. Her labia were a deep pink, still shiny from the aloe
vera gel Marta had smoothed over her. She touched the delicate folds and moved her hand over her sex, enjoying the smooth, soft feel of her skin.

Master Paul entered her mind’s eye again, as he’d been in the swimming pool, a golden god, his tan body sparkling wetly in the sunlight as he tossed his long hair from his face. Without quite realizing what she was doing, Alexis slipped her fingers into her pussy, feeling the suck of her vaginal muscles as she imagined Master Paul, naked as he rose over her on strong arms. She closed her eyes, almost feeling the insistent nudge of his hard cock as he pressed inside her.

She wrapped her other arm around herself, feeling his warm embrace as he pulled her close.
You belong to me, Alexis. I own you. His tawny golden eyes are filled with love, and also a dominant power that thrills her to her bones. She knows the lovemaking is just the preamble to the long, intense whipping he will give her afterwards, and then he will take her again into his bed and make love to her until she is gasping, begging him to stop, to never stop, oh please, oh god, oh
—

Alexis gave a startled cry as she was jerked upright by a handful of her hair. “What the hell do you think you’re
doing!” Master John’s voice was hard and angry, his face dark with fury. Still using her hair, he threw her onto the bed, face down.

Stunned and humiliated, Alexis stammered, “Oh god, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I—”

“You didn’t
mean
to jerk yourself off when I’d given you express orders to wait in position for me? How
dare
you touch that body without permission? Didn’t you read the contract? Don’t you understand your position here?” He gave a snort of disgust. “I can see I have my work cut out for me with you.”

Alexis felt a hard hand on her lower back holding her place as the other hand came crashing down with a furious thwack on her ass. She grunted in pain and surprise.

“You,” he said, his stinging palm landing again on her ass, “are”—thwack—“a”—thwack—“disobedient”—thwack—“little slut”—thwack—“and”—thwack—“must be”—thwack— “punished.”

He smacked her harder than she’d ever been smacked in the playful spanking scenes she’d enjoyed in the past. There was nothing playful about this spanking. It was a beating, pure and simple.

She began to struggle against him, the pain too much to handle. “Please,” she begged, crying, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, you’re hurting me!” Unable to control herself, she reached back, trying to cover her bruised, stinging bottom with her hands. He swatted them angrily away and then grabbed them, pulling her arms up over her head and gripping her wrists tightly.

He continued to spank her, each blow as hard as the last, until all the fight went out of her and she lay limp and whimpering. Finally he stopped, but only to drag her from the bed. He forced her onto the floor, pushing her head down onto his foot.

“Kiss my boot and thank me for your punishment, slut,” he said in a tight, angry voice.

Still whimpering, Alexis touched her lips to the man’s boot. “Thank you, Sir,” she managed, hating him more than she’d ever hated anyone in her life.

She felt him lifting her up. “You’re welcome, Alexis.” The anger was completely gone from his voice and a hint of a smile moved over his face. “Now, we’ll try this again. Assume a kneeling, at-ease position. Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

He watched her as she eased her smarting, aching bottom carefully onto her heels. Spreading her thighs as Marta had showed her, she set her hands on her thighs and lifted her chin, unable to help sniffling.

Master John left the room, leaving her to collect herself. Her nose was running but she didn’t wipe it, not daring to move after what had just happened. Jesus, talk about a bad start! Was it possible to be thrown out of the program before she even started?

She realized it wasn’t Master John she hated—he’d just been doing his job. It was herself she was mad at. Silently she vowed to do better.

This time she heard the click of Master John’s boots outside in the hall. When he entered, she kept her eyes forward, her chin raised, wondering if he could hear the pounding of her heart.

She felt his eyes on her, those blue, unblinking eyes. “Better,” he said. He moved past her in the small space and sat on the bed. “Remaining on your knees, turn and face me,” he commanded.

She twisted on the rug to face him, aware she had none of the grace Marta exhibited. “Each time I find it necessary to punish you, I will do so, but then it’s over,” he said calmly. “We start fresh and all is forgiven.” Reaching into his black jeans, Master John extracted a tissue and leaned down, gently wiping her eyes and nose with it, his expression almost kind.

“Thank you, Sir,” Alexis said, her voice coming out as a whisper.

He nodded curtly. “I’ve read your questionnaire and essays, and I believe I have some insight into what you’re looking for. My methods are exacting but effective. In order to reach your true submissive core, we must break you down, tear away a lifetime of ego and self-centered gratification.” He paused, looking pointedly at her, though he made no direct mention of having caught her masturbating, for which she was silently grateful.

“You will find my methods difficult at times, but I won’t take you further than you’re able to go. I won’t give you more than you can handle. I will push your boundaries, make no mistake about that. But you need pushing—that’s quite clear. You are an attractive and clearly willful woman who is no doubt used to manipulating men to get what you want, or what you think you want. That won’t work with me. If I believe you’re being at all flirtatious or coy, or worse, dishonest in your reactions, your punishment will be swift and unrelenting.”

He let this ominous declaration sink in a moment before continuing, “By the same token, if I believe you are sincerely trying, I can promise to help you move past the barriers you’ve erected in your life to keep you from achieving your true submissive potential. We only have a month. That isn’t a lot of time, but the good news is you will be mine 24/7, and if your training goes according to my plans, you’ll be well on your way to becoming a proper sexual submissive or slave, depending what your ultimate goal is in all this.”

“Please, may I ask a question, Sir?”

He nodded. “You may.”

“I’m not really clear on the difference between a sexual submissive and a slave.”

“In a nutshell, a sub can slip in and out of their role, depending on the situation. You give your permission each time you submit to your Dom, and he respects the hard limits you’ve set in advance. You will serve that Dom with the same grace and obedience as a fulltime 24/7 slave, but the relationship is less restrictive. I imagine that sort of setup is more what you’re familiar with. And while rewarding, from what I’ve read about you, you’re looking for more.”

Am I?
Alexis wondered, but she didn’t contradict him.

Master John continued, “While you’re here at The Compound, you will function as a 24/7 slave. You are my property for the duration, and you will do what I say, to the letter, regardless of your feelings on the matter. You have no rights, though you can earn privileges. You will submit to me and to anyone I choose. Ours is a somewhat artificial relationship, in that I’m your trainer rather than your actual Master.
Nonetheless, I take my responsibility to you seriously, and as such I will hold you to the exacting standards I would expect of my own personal slave. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes, Master John.”
My knees are killing me. I have to pee. Why didn’t I pee when I was alone with Marta? Can I get up now? When’s lunch? I’m starving.

“Now stand up. I want to inspect you.”

Alexis stood, trying to mimic the fluid way Marta had risen to her feet, doubting she’d pulled it off. “Hands behind your head, fingers laced together, at attention. That’s position number one, by the way. You’ll get daily lessons in the positions we use here at The Compound. You will be expected to assume and hold whatever position is commanded of you, promptly and accurately.”

Alexis stood as directed, memorizing the two positions she now knew—the at-ease kneeling position, and this at-attention position, also called position number one. Master John stood so they were face-to-face in the small space. He cupped her breasts in his hands, lifting and letting them fall. He tweaked her nipples, twisting and tugging at them until they stood engorged and erect. He ran his fingers along her smooth underarms. Alexis tried, and failed, to stay still as his hands moved down her sides, tickling her.