Part 14 (1/2)

A look of confusion crossed her face. I could see it through her grimaces of pain and even with the blindfold covering her eyes. ”Please. I don't understand.”

”You are no longer Karen. You have no ident.i.ty.”

”Oh G.o.d. I don't understand. Please. No more.”

”You will not use the word *I' or *me' any longer. If you do, you get punished more.”

”Oh G.o.d. I. Please what can I use then.” I struck her across the right breast with the spoon. She cried out and tried to back away. Her wrists stopping her. She was sobbing. Not understanding.

Elizabeth finally spoke up. Helping the girl. I gave her a dirty look, but she continued regardless. She paled, but I suppose that this was getting too intense for her. I was surprised that she'd held her tongue this long.

”Karen. Honey.” The bound tormented woman turned her face towards Elizabeth's voice. ”He's made women do this before. You have to remember to use the third person. You can do it. Refer to yourself in the third person. You know, *This slave' and *This s.l.u.t', that sort of thing. I know it's demeaning. But he won't let you down until you do. You can do it.” She lapsed into silence and I slowly turned back to the crying woman in front of me.

”Oh G.o.d. I can't.” I hit her again on the left breast and she screamed. She was undoubtedly in agony this time. She was getting a bit hoa.r.s.e from her screaming. Her hands were now getting to be a bright shade of blue. I didn't doubt that she couldn't feel them. I had to loosen her soon if I wanted to keep playing with her.

”Okay. Okay. I. This s-slave will try. I. This slave doesn't know if I .. she can remember. Please don't hurt me anymore. Please let me ... this slave ... down.” She tried to speak in the unfamiliar way. She'd slipped but I had to give her credit for trying. It must have been really hard on her.

Chapter 77.

I stood in front of her and just watched as she struggled with her pain. s.h.i.+fting her weight from foot to foot. Pulling weakly at her wrists. Moving her hips gently, trying to adjust the position of the cuc.u.mber still bound in her.

Finally she spoke. ”Please. I. This slave hurts so very much. She begs to be released. If she could, she'd kneel and kiss her master's feet. Anything. What else can she possibly offer?”

She finally lost her hesitation. Any trace of pride. She had slipped into a completely submissive role. Her pain driving her.

I reached forward and touched her blindfold. Soaked with her tears. She flinched away from the touch, but slowly moved her head forward again until it touched my outstretched fingers. Allowing me to check her blindfold.

I reached around her head and removed the wet cloth. Her eyes were red. Her eyes expressing her pain. She glanced up, trying to see her hands, blinking in the sudden light. She wiggled her blue fingers. Gasping at the pain and the sight of her blue hands. She began to cry again. Frightened that she might lose her hands if I kept her in this much longer. She had to figure out a way to make me release her.

I began to free her from the rope belt she wore. I simply released the rope around her waist, allowing it to fall loosely around her hips. I knelt in front of her and watched as the cuc.u.mber began a slow viscous journey out of her v.a.g.i.n.al ca.n.a.l. She shuddered at the sensations of it slipping out of her. Unable to clench herself enough to keep it in place or force it out of herself quicker. After a few minutes, I gripped the end of it with my fingers and began to pull it gently from her. She gasped and cried out as the invader finally pulled free of her body. She began to weep. Tears falling from her eyes, unashamedly. Tears of relief. Even without the invasion of the cuc.u.mber, her v.a.g.i.n.a still gaped wide. I imagined that it would take a while for it to relax and close the stretched muscles where it was forced to accommodate the larger than normal invasion of her body. She unconsciously brought her legs back together. She stood back up on her toes helping take some of the strain off her wrists. I could see her calf muscles straining to keep her raised on her toes. They were quivering slightly. I doubted if she could stand like this much longer. Her wrists were going to have to take her weight again pretty soon. I could see it in her face. Her pain.

I placed the now warm cuc.u.mber onto the counter behind her and walked back around. She looked up at me. Her tears never stopping.

”Please,” she begged me. ”My wrists.”

I just closed my eyes and let the spoon fall on her body at random. I think I caught her just under her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her lower ribs. She screamed again.

”Oh G.o.d. I'm. Oh s.h.i.+t. Please. This slave is sorry. She begs forgiveness. She forgot. Her wrists. She can't think with her wrists. This slave. This s.l.u.t begs to be let down. She'll do anything to be allowed down. Please. Her wrists hurt so much. Her arms.”

I picked back up the knife and showed it to her. Even though she knew that I wasn't going to cut her, she begged anyway.

”Please sir. Your slave. Your c-c.u.n.t begs her master not to cut her. Oh G.o.d. Your slave is so frightened. Please let her down.”

I dragged the blade down her upturned nose as she struggled to keep her face as still as she could. The blade pa.s.sed harmlessly over the skin of her nose. Just scratching her skin like a hunter might check the edge of his knife against a fingernail. Her body was shaking badly. Not sure if it was her fright or just muscle fatigue. She'd been hanging there for a long, long time.

”Karen? Are you ever going to disobey again? Run? Even think you can escape?”

”Please. Never. I'll. I mean. This slave is yours to do with what you like. I'll do. She'll do anything. She'll never run again. She'll never disobey. Please. My. Her wrists. She is going to pa.s.s out from this. Please. You don't want me ... her ... to pa.s.s out. Do you? Please?”

I nodded. She'd done a pa.s.sable job of sticking in the third person. Actually excellent for a first attempt and considering the obvious pain she was enduring. I raised the knife away from her face and easily cut through the rope holding her to the ceiling. The knife was very sharp. She was very lucky that she hadn't gotten nicked with my playing. A credit to her will and her ability to stay still despite her pain. Bet she never imagined that her kitchen knife would ever be used to release her bare bound body from her plant hook.

As the support was severed, she collapsed. I was ready for it. Holding the knife carefully away from her falling body, I moved to catch her. Her eyes rolled back and her legs simply collapsed under her. I caught her around the waist and gently lowered her bare body to the tile. I could have just let her fall. But then she may have broken a bone, or hurt herself badly. Smacked her head on the tile. Not a lot of doctors around. I would have had to return her immediately. End of fun. She was light anyway. No strain.

She lay back, slowly bringing her still bound hands in front of her, pulling weakly at the ropes. She tried unsuccessfully to restore circulation to her blue hands. All her twisting only served to give her rope burn. Her hands stubbornly remained a deep shade of blue. The ropes holding her wrists together were the problem. No way for her to adjust them any longer. She wasn't getting circulation back into her hands until I released her wrists. She just began to cry again and lay back. Just letting whatever was going to happen, happen. Completely resigned to her fate. That I was in control of her and whether she would lose her hands or not.

I released her waist and reached for her wrists. She cried out as I lifted her hands but tried to help me. With her hands so numb she really was more of a hindrance than a help. But I think she needed to do something.

”Be still, Karen. I'll have you out of this in a second.” I gently chastised her. She wasn't really helping the effort to get circulation restored to her hands.

She nodded, tears still tracing down her face. Holding her shaking arms as still as she could.

I lifted the knife and carefully guided it to one of the strands of cord holding her wrists. She was still, as ordered and I easily sliced through one of the cords cruelly circling her slender wrists. I fished the cord around, unwrapping the loops of cord, using it to release her hands, not bothering with the knots. Her hands were ice cold as I touched them. I wasn't surprised that she'd lost feeling in them. She cried out and whimpered as the rope came free. The cord had badly chafed her skin, but as the rope loosened, her hands almost immediately began to regain a healthy pink colour. I'd caught the circulation problem in plenty of time. She'd have been fine even for another half an hour. Uncomfortable as h.e.l.l, but no lasting damage would have occurred.

She sighed as her hands were finally separated and I'd released them into her own care. She began to moan as the circulation caused ma.s.sive pins and needles to crawl across her hands and fingers. She closed her eyes and tried to hold her hands as still as she could. She struggled to control the unavoidable body tremors which were a result of the adrenaline and endorphins running havoc through her bloodstream. She was probably going to feel slightly sick after the adrenaline kicked down. Unless she was lucky and could maintain her adrenaline production until I freed her from the timeline.

I sat beside her and stroked her hair while she recovered. She didn't even flinch as I touched her. Her breathing slowly returned to normal and her hands began to feel a little better. The pain began to leave her face.

The female body recovers so quickly from pain. Though, the stinging pain from a wooden spoons does tend to fade reasonably quickly anyway. The nipple clamps and cuc.u.mber had been removed a while ago. Her nipples still looked red, but I suspected that they no longer were in pain. Unless I touched them. She closed her eyes briefly.

After she had slowed her breathing down and was beginning to feel a little better, she rolled herself over and managed to get to her hands and knees. She bent her head and kissed at my shoes. She looked up at me, not a trace of shame in her face.

She whispered, ”Thank you for letting this worthless slave down.” She ducked her head, unable to maintain eye contact with me. Probably couldn't believe that she'd actually said the words on her own. Without *encouragement'.

Finally she raised her head and looked at me from her hands and knees.

”Please let me go?”

I let the first person reference go this time. I shook my head. ”Not yet.”

”What do you want me to do? Please?”

I walked over to the bag and retrieved a collar and leash. I turned and her eyes widened. As I was fastening the collar and leash to her throat she tried again.

”Please. This slave begs you not to do this. She'll happily screw you and your friends even. Please. You don't have to make her act like a dog.” She instinctively knew what was about to happen. She'd suggested it after all.

She gasped as I tightened the collar and picked up the leash. Ignoring her pleas.

”Do pets talk?”

She looked up at me, frightened and pleading with her eyes. She closed her mouth. Whined. Surprisingly very dog-like.

I walked in front of her and gently tugged her leash. Resigned to her fate, she began to crawl for me. I guided the miserable naked female through the dining area and into her living room. I sat down on a leather chair and left her on her hands and knees in the middle of the room.

”Beg?”

She slipped out of her role. ”Pardon?”