Page 23 of Cruel Master
That deep growly voice is doing something to my insides, even though I know it’s fake. None of this is real, but it’s getting harder to remember that. Maybe I’ve been sucked into some alternate dimension where demons exist, and one of them has decided to take me as his pet.
He withdraws his fingers, presses his cock against me, and oh, the stretching starts. If I was burning before, I’m a ball of lava now. The pain as he works his way in overwhelms everything, and I’m flooded with that addictivesomethingthat makes me melt into the altar. A groan escapes me, and it’s a raw mix of agony and need.
He’s fucking you. Do you understand what this means? He thinks he owns you. He’s making you his slave. His sex slave.
That voice, so rational and terrified, runs on a background loop as the rest of me dissolves into a puddle. He bottoms out inside me, and I mewl as his fingers tangle in my hair. I’ve never seen his face. Or his cock, for that matter, and he’s buried in me to the hilt. It’s so wrong—everything about it is so wrong—but I’m gasping as he pulls out and slams back in, yanking on my hair.
My back arches, pressing my hip bones into the altar, and he grabs my breast as I tilt my head back to relieve the pressure. I’m a puppet in his hands, and my ass screams in protest as he startsto fuck me in earnest. The friction brings the pain flaring back, and I cry out as he growls into my ear.
“That’s it. Take your master’s cock like a good little slut. This is what you deserve, Juliet. It’s what you need.”
Tears sting my eyes as he twists my nipple. I yell and bat at his hand, but it’s no use. It’s too much on top of everything else, and my brain short circuits. There’s just the pain, the pulsing need between my legs, and his battering ram cock hammering into me. And into me. And into me. On and on. Is the man a robot? Shit.
He picks up the pace, and even through his mask, I hear the change in his breath. Ragged gasps echo oddly through the chamber, a counterpoint to my own desperate whimpers. What am I desperate for? For it to end? Or for him to slide a hand underneath me and give me some friction on my clit?
He doesn’t, though, and I’m not surprised. He already told me this is for his benefit, not mine. Why does that make my pussy clench harder?
His grip tightens, and he lets out a low, inhuman growl as he shoots himself into me. There’s a finality to it, and it wraps itself around me as he lowers me to the altar. My face presses into the cold stone as our mingled rough breaths split the silence.
That’s it, then. He did it. I’m only a few hours into my captivity, and he’s already fucked me. Any lingering hope that this might not be exactly what he’s told me it is disappears. He’ll use me however he wants. He just did.
I’m screwed.
I wish I could say I wasn’t horny, too, but my body won’t allow me that much dignity. I’m a floppy, useless jellyfish of a woman, and I don’t even move when he pulls out and his weight disappears.
Hopefully he’ll leave me alone now, and I can get myself off and hate myself for it afterward. Bliss.
He returns, and what the actual fuck? He’s sticking something else in my poor ass. It’s not big or painful, but Christ, I thought we were done with that area for the day.
“You’ll keep my come inside you until I tell you otherwise,” he informs me, and I’m too spun out to even complain. Fine. Whatever. Message received.
A hard slap on a particularly sore spot snaps my eyes open and my mind back into reality. “What do you say, Juliet? I gave you an order.”
“Yes, Master,” I mutter. It’s already becoming automatic. Exactly what he wants, but how the hell can I fight it? What can I, the jellyfish woman with a plug in her ass, do against this force of fucking nature? I know exactly what he’s doing, but it doesn’t make a blind bit of difference. It’s still working.
“Sit up, Juliet, and look at me.”
Sit up? That would require my muscles to actually work. Little by little, I bring my awareness back into my limbs, like they teach you to do at the end of the yoga class. Though half the time, I fall asleep on the mat.
Oh dear. Awareness isn’t good.
As the high from his savage treatment of me fades, reality creeps back in, and I wish it wouldn’t. I’m cold. Not horribly so, but enough that I know it’ll make me miserable soon. My body aches, my ass hurts like hell, and shivery unhappiness hits me from all sides.
Still, I force myself to sit up, hissing when the cold bench presses the stupid plug in further. The stripes from his strap sting, and to my horror, my lip wobbles as I look into Saldar’s inhuman eyes. I’m all over the place. A mess.
He’s already back in full costume, whatever he removed to fuck me back in place. His mask gives nothing away as he studies me. I must look as pathetic as I feel, because he rubs a thumb over my cheekbone. “One final task, and you can rest.”
Oh fuck. What now? Whatever it is, I really, really hope it doesn’t involve anything else going into my ass. I can’t take any more.
“Get on your knees, Juliet, and thank me.”
Thank him? Fucking thank him? A little flare of anger sparks, but chilly reality snuffs it out before it can take hold. Rest. I’m not sure how I’ll do that in this cold, stony place, but I’ll make it work. I hadn’t realized how heavy my eyelids were, but they’re made of lead, and gravity wants to drag them down.
Even so. Thank him for what? For fucking my ass? Kidnapping me?
Might as well ask. “Thank you for what?” I pause, teetering on the edge of rebellion, then add, “Master.”
His eerie, mobile face shifts, and it has to be a smirk or a smile under there. So glad he’s amused at my expense. “For giving you the discipline you need.”
