The Keyholder (7 page)

At last—a real reaction.

“Are you experienced with water bondage and submersion play?” Jack asked, placing his hand on the back of Brooke’s neck.

“Yes, um, no, I mean, a little bit, Sir,” she stammered, suddenly as breathy as her sister sub, Leah.

“Explain yourself,” Jack said, keeping his voice neutral, though he was pleased and excited by her reaction.

“Uh, a boyfriend and I, we, uh, he had this hot tub on his deck. He would sometimes hold me under. I would suck his cock, Sir, and he wouldn’t let me up sometimes for a long time. It’s, I mean it was”—she wrapped her arms protectively around her torso and he noticed her nipples were erect—“really scary.”

“Scary bad or scary sexy?”

She faced Jack, her dark brown eyes expressive with what could only be called longing. “Scary sexy, Sir,” she whispered.

Jack regarded her from hooded eyelids, his cock throbbing. “I like the idea of a blow job under water. Would that suit you, sub girl?”

“Oh, yes, Sir,” Brooke said eagerly, her eyes flicking down to his crotch.

Jack wasted no time getting out of his clothing. Once naked, he stepped onto the wooden platform and lifted his leg over the side of the tank. Standing in the pleasantly warm water, he held out a hand to Brooke, gesturing for her to join him. Once she was in front of him in the tank, he said, “I’d like to cuff your wrists behind you, to heighten the effect of submission for you. Do I have your permission, sub girl?”

Brooke swallowed visibly and then nodded, placing her hands behind her back of her own accord. “Yes, Sir,” she said huskily, thrusting her gorgeous breasts toward him.

Jack reached for a pair of leather cuffs. Directing Brooke to turn around, he clipped them in place around her wrists. Her ass and thighs were still prettily marked with thin welts from the single tail. “Kneel up in the water,” he instructed as he settled himself on one of the benches.

Brooke knelt as instructed, the water coming to just below her breasts. “Come closer,” Jack said. “I want to assess your comfort level with dunking and breath control.”

Brooke scooted forward until she was close to Jack. Leaning forward, he placed his hands on either of her shoulders. “When I press, you go down. You stay down until I release you. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Brooke replied, her eyes fixed on his, fully engaged.

He pressed gently but firmly against her shoulders, and Brooke sank beneath the water, her long, dark hair floating about her head. He held her there as he counted to ten, and then released his grip. She bobbed up and drew in a breath as she shook back her wet hair from her face.

“Good,” Jack said. “Can you stay down longer?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He dunked her again, this time counting to fifteen. They repeated the exercise several times, with him finally holding her down a full forty seconds. He was aware the average person could hold their breath for around a minute, but didn’t want to push her too far. When he let go, she burst up through the water, this time sucking in air with an audible gasp.

Satisfied he’d found her limit, he asked, “How are you doing, Brooke? Ready to proceed?”

“Yes, Sir.” Beads of water hung from her dark lashes and she blinked them away.

“Okay. Here’s what I expect.” He pointed to his erect shaft bobbing beneath the surface. “You will suck my cock until you make me come. Obviously you won’t have the use of your hands, but I’m sure you’re up to the task.” He smiled in anticipation. “You don’t have to swallow if you don’t want to. You can hold it in your mouth and spit it into this cup.” He reached for a small, disposable plastic cup from the side table and moved it closer.

“Excuse me, Sir. I would like to swallow.”

Jack nodded, doubly pleased. Did one tip these girls, he wondered. He would have to find out. “Excellent,” he said aloud. “I will place my hand on your head to hold you down while you worship my cock, but all you have to do is push back a little if you need to rise. I’m not into drowning you here—I want us both to enjoy the eroticism of water submission, okay?” Leaning forward, he stroked the wet hair away from her face.

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir. Thank you, Master Jack.” For the first time that evening, she smiled. There was a small gap between her front teeth, and a deep dimple appeared in her left cheek. It was an altogether charming smile, and Jack found himself actually liking the girl for the first time, along with desiring her.

Was it possible…? Maybe…?

He veered away from the thought before completing it.

Settling back on the bench, he placed his hand on Brooke’s head and gently pushed her down beneath the water. Her mouth slid like a velvet glove over his cock, gliding down the shaft as she milked him with her lips and tongue. After fifteen seconds or so, he removed his hand. She rose from the water and took a deep breath then, before he could even put his hand again on her head, plunged back down, seeking and finding his shaft with her eager mouth.

Fully aroused by both the situation and her reaction, it wasn’t long before Jack was ready to come. He let her up for a final breath and then pushed her beneath the water. Almost as soon as her mouth closed once more over his cock, a powerful orgasm twisted through him with the force of a tidal wave.

For the first time, she pushed back against his hand, and Jack realized he’d held her down a little too long, caught up in the throes of his climax. He abruptly released his hold and she bolted up through the water like a bullet, gasping for air.

Jack reached for her, turning her so he could pull her back against him. The bench was deep, with room for two. Settling back against the Plexiglas wall, he cradled her between his legs, her bound arms captured between their bodies.

Reaching around her body, he found her clit and gave it a light flick. She moaned. “Hungry girl,” he murmured against her ear. She didn’t reply. He stroked the nubbin, and then slipped his fingers down into the silky, wet heat inside her, his cock hardening despite the recent orgasm.

She groaned and arched against his hand. “Please,” she begged, all traces of her earlier decorum gone. “Please.”

“Please what?” Jack said, grinding his palm against her clit as he fucked her with two fingers.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” she gasped.

“Please what?” he insisted, wrapping his other arm around her torso to hold her in place.

“Please don’t stop, Sir. Please, oh god! Oh, please. Please, Sir, make me come!”

Jack rubbed and teased the girl’s swollen sex, his other arm binding her in place against him. He wanted to fuck her, but knew the limits. He contented himself with the pleasure of his power over her, as he made her shake and tremble in his arms. “Now,” he whispered as he felt her shudder. “Come for me, sub girl.”

“Oh god!” she cried, bucking against him. “Yes! Robert! Robert, oh Rob—” She stiffened suddenly, biting off the word, though it continued to echo in the room, grown suddenly cold. She twisted out of Jack’s arms, and he let her go.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she said, her face red with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Jack said abruptly, rising from the tub. “It happens.” He reached for her shoulders, spinning her away from him, ostensibly so he could remove the cuffs, but mainly because he didn’t want the mix of emotions moving through him to be revealed to this girl, this sub for hire.

I’m thirsty. So thirsty.

Oh fuck, it hurts. Oh fuck. Fuck.

Stop focusing on the pain. This can’t go on forever. And when you get down, you get a hot shower. He promised. A hot shower. Maybe something hot to eat. Something cold to drink.

Oh fuck, it hurts!

Eva screamed.

She hated to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he hurt her. She’d meant to stay quiet, but the pain spilled out in a howl. The clover clamps cut into her labia, the chains pulled taut to force her nether lips apart. But it was the clamp he’d just applied directly to her clit, its razor sharp teeth biting into tender flesh, which wrenched that cry from her.

She was suspended upside down, her legs splayed wide in their chains, her bound arms numb behind her back. Cold, gooey lubricant was squirted over her spread pussy and then she felt the hard, invasive press of a thick phallus at her entrance. Master Phillip pushed the huge object inside her and flipped a switch, sending shuddering pulsations radiating through her core.

“Open your eyes, slave,” Master Phillip commanded. “See what I’m offering you.”

Food? Water? Would she be able to drink while upside down?

Eve forced herself to obey. As her eyes adjusted, she saw her captor looming over her, his muscular legs inches from her face. As he stepped back, she saw he was naked, his erect cock fisted in his hand.

“We’re going to play a game,” he announced. “I’m going to jerk off and shoot my load on your face. If you can catch my jizz on your tongue, then I’ll let you down. And to make the prize even sweeter, the more you swallow, the longer your nice, hot shower will be.”

Though the effort made her dizzy, Eva struggled to lift her head. She opened her mouth as she stared at his heavy balls and the underside of his shaft. If he really came on her face, she should be able to catch at least some of it in her mouth. She had to—that was all there was to it.

But what if he rigged it so she missed? There was always a “flip side” to his games. He took special sadistic pleasure in setting her up to fail, and then claiming with mock sorrow that he had no choice but to punish her.

“On the flip side,” he intoned, predictably, “if you don’t manage to catch at least a little of my nectar, then I’ll piss in your mouth, and that’ll be all you get to drink until tomorrow. And of course, no shower, which would be a shame, since you stink, pig.”

Rage bloomed, white and hot, in her chest. How she hated this man—this beautiful monster with his black heart and maggoty soul. She nurtured her hatred as she swayed in her chains, taking what strength she could from it. Rage was so much better than the apathy and passivity that claimed her more and more often lately. Fury was far better than the bleak, vast emptiness when she found herself accepting she would never get out of this prison, never escape this madman, except through death.

She couldn’t let herself go there. She had to keep hope alive, however small the chance of breaking free. The key lay in when he let her out to clean downstairs. When she was free of the confines of this room, at least she had a chance of escape, however slim.

She had to find a way to be alone, at least for a little while, when she was allowed out. She had to make him think he’d broken her. He had to be truly convinced she had turned into a brainwashed, zombie sex slave. She had to make the deluded, sadistic egomaniac believe she had bought into his madness, and embraced it as her own.

He pushed down on the vibrating phallus he’d shoved inside her, forcing an involuntary grunt from her. Her labia and clit, mercifully, were now numb, though she knew she’d pay the terrible price later when the clamps were removed.

Master Phillip had begun to tug at his cock above her, his hand moving rapidly over his shaft. Eva lifted her head higher, swaying from the effort. She tried to focus on his cock, calculating the nearness of his climax by the tempo and urgency of his groans.

Judging the moment close, she opened her mouth as she struggled to position herself to catch the flow when he came. He gave a sudden cry, and a ribbon of white goo spurted from the now purple head of his engorged cock. Eva twisted her neck in her effort to catch the droplets as they fell. They splattered along her cheek and on her nose, and her heart lurched with anxiety.

No! Don’t give up.

He always did at least two streams of come, sometimes three. She contorted, her mouth agape as the second ribbon of goo erupted from his cock. The salty jism landed on her lips and graced her tongue. She resisted the urge to spit, or to swallow, instead keeping her mouth open to prove she’d accomplished the task.

A few more drops landed on the bridge of her nose, some of it nearly getting into her eye. It didn’t matter. She’d done it! Now he would let her down—he would let her shower. He would give her food and water. He would let her rest. He would leave her alone.

“Good girl,” Master Phillip said, crouching down in front of her. He tapped her lips with the head of his still-gooey shaft. “You did it. Now, clean me off and then I’ll let you down.”

Eagerly, Eva sucked at her tormentor’s cock, licking it as best she could from her awkward position. “Thank you, Sir,” she gasped. “Thank you, Master Phillip, for allowing me to taste your come, Sir.”

Master Phillip chuckled. “You like that, huh, little girl?”

I’d rather eat shit, you fucking deluded bastard.

“Oh,
yes
, Sir,” she managed, putting every bit of sincerity and coquettishness she had left into the words. “Thank you, Master.”

“Well, you’ve earned your shower. There’s just a few little matters to attend to first.”

Standing, he flipped off the vibrator and yanked the dildo from her body. “This will hurt, slave Eva. Do you know why you have to suffer?”

“Because I’m your worthless cunt, Sir. Because it pleases you to make me suffer, Sir.”

“That’s right, slave. Now take what you deserve.”

Eva stiffened, determined to bear it, determined to stay silent. The clamps were released from both labia at once. She bit her lower lip so hard she tasted the blood on her tongue, but she hadn’t made a sound.

When the clamp came off her clit, the pain exploded like fireworks inside her brain.

Eva screamed.

Jack loved the squish of wet clay slicking beneath his fingers. It was at once primitive, raw and sensual. The piece he was working on had been inspired by his recent experiences as a keyholder, and he was eager to put his vision into physical form.

When he was working, time lost its meaning, and all that mattered was working the clay. The process was intensely physical—shaping and digging into surfaces with his fingers and palms, teasing, striking, slamming and coaxing the clay. His touch lightened as the soul of the piece began to emerge, caressing each curve with the focus and obsession of a lover.