Controlling Chrissy Read online

  "Spread 'em," grinned the man who'd been fucking her.

  She looked in horror at the hose in his hand. What kind of shower was this?

  "Please, no," she cried as he turned the setting onto full cold.

  The jets hit her harder than the whips. She cowered against the wall, hugging her breasts. The other man had a hose, too, which he aimed between her ass cheeks. They continued to pound her till she exposed herself the way they wanted, back to the wall, legs apart, arms over her head.

  She moaned as they punished her tits and cleaned out her pussy. Providing no towel, they made her crawl, shivering and wet to the room next door. There was a metal table, with stirrups, as in a gynecologist's examining room. They strapped her ankles in, and her wrists.

  The examination was rough and degrading, exactly as one would expect for a slave. Completing the tests and swabbing her for venereal checks, they continued to molest and torment her. She was easy prey for their hands and tools, the silver forceps, clamps and needles. They made her beg for all of it, step by step.

  Both men were very hard now and they let her down so she could suck them off. They shoved their dicks in hard and fast, intending to choke her as much as possible. She dared not displease them, as there was always one of them behind her with the whip, taking sport with her naked, kneeling body as the other made use of her.

  She drank them down then licked them clean, their cocks and balls both. In gratitude for using her, she was allowed to lick their shoes as well.

  "She's a natural," said the man who'd come inside her. "I wish to god I could keep her."

  "Nah. She'll end up auctioned off to some fucking Arab," the other said in disgust. "Grunts like us never get the Grade A meat."

  Chrissy's pussy was on fire. No matter how many times these brutes made her come, she wanted more. Somehow being a slave like this was freeing her, making her into a completely sexual, slut of a creature.

  "Masters, may I come again?" she begged. "Please, I need to so bad."

  They had her roll onto her back. She watched as each man armed himself with a long stick at the end of which was a plastic, molded cock. Chrissy did not need to be told what to do. Her job was to writhe, to entice them to fill her orifices with the man shaped objects. She lifted her head, licking the shaft at her mouth. At the same time, her pussy was filled, for an agonizingly sweet second.

  Just as quickly it was removed.

  They made Chrissy work hard. She had to lift her hips high, giving them a splendid show. It was frustrating as hell. Each time she got close, the sticks were taken away, leaving her empty and whimpering. Several times they switched places, so she could suck her own juices for a while.

  "Please, masters, please…" she moaned.

  Finally they made her turn over and hump the floor. She was sweaty and dirty and the linoleum was cold and hard on her aroused breasts and belly.

  "Come," said the man who'd used her, inserting his stick into her asshole.

  Chrissy pressed her lips to the floor and her palms, too. Her cunt lips were burning hot. She was there, right fucking there…oh, god, it was too much, like an explosion within an explosion. She'd never survive it. But survive she did, the cock in her ass, the man above her, having reduced her to a level few women could dare imagine.

  It was only the beginning.

  "All right, that's enough. Let's get her caged up and over to the club," she heard the one say. "They'll be waiting for her."

  "Yeah, we don't want her to be late. The boss will be there for sure."

  "And junior, too," added the other.

  Chrissy knew they could only be referring to one man. Derek Trace. She was going to see him – and on her first night as a slave, no less. It was at this point, naked on her belly on the floor that she fainted.

  * * * *

  "Are you sure this is what the boss wants?" asked the handler for the third time. He was nervous, and for no small reason. The ex-boxer, Vinny, was asking him to re-route his cargo.

  And a sensitive cargo it was: Human, a hundred ten pounds, dripping wet, and very female. Naturally, Chrissy listened with great interest from her cage. Vinny most definitely had a plan and she was praying he'd be able to pull it off, whatever it was.

  As near as she could tell, he was trying to have Chrissy sent to one of the back rooms instead of out on the floor as a waitress.

  "Mr. Derek wants something special tonight," Vinny explained. "And she's it."

  The handler, who'd shoved his dick into Chrissy's mouth before driving her over, considered the matter. "Yeah, she's a real firecracker, but I'm supposed to turn her over to Carl to use as a waitress."

  "Look," rasped Vinny. "How do I make it any plainer? We're working on a little surprise for the boss. I'm giving you a chance to get in on it. I'm doing you a favor here."

  "Well … I suppose," he capitulated. "But if there's any trouble out of this, I ain't taking the blame."

  "Don't worry about it, it's a piece of cake," Vinny assured him.

  The man sighed. "What do we do with her, then?"

  "We chain her up in number ten, hands over head, ass facing the door. We leave her like that, just one candle burning, for effect. The boss will find her that way. I guarantee you he'll flip his lid."

  That was an understatement, Chrissy thought.

  The handler had nothing further to say. Helping Chrissy out of her little cage, he grabbed her arm, dragging her down the back hall. He took her into the room and stood her in the center.

  "Arms up," he commanded.

  She obeyed, allowing him to fix the shackles to her wrists. She was a prisoner now, her breasts fair game along with the rest of her.

  "I hope you're worth it," mumbled the handler with a shake of his head.

  The last one to see her was Vinny. "Don't worry," he soothed. "You'll be terrific."

  "I don't know how to thank you," she said.

  "Send me a wedding invitation," he winked.

  "I don't think a wedding is likely," she said flatly. "More likely my ass being shipped off to a whore house in Mexico. Oh, Vinny, I'm so sorry you've taken this risk for me. He's going to be so angry."

  The fighter was moist eyed. "Don't worry about me, kid. I can take care of myself." He smiled, touching his fingers to the girl's cheeks. "Anyway, there comes a time in everybody's life, you gotta take a stand for something."

  Chrissy puckered her lips, craning her neck for a kiss. He gave her a peck on the cheek instead.

  "Save it for the boss," he said.

  Vinny lit a candle on the way out. The room was plunged into near darkness as he closed the door behind him. Shadows danced on the cork wall, as once again she found herself waiting for Derek. This time in an even less comfortable position.

  He had certainly made up for that one time she had kept him waiting.

  Chrissy had no idea what to expect. Anger, perhaps, indifference. She'd disobeyed in the biggest way ever. But she'd let herself be turned into a slave to see him again. That certainly spoke to a level of devotion.

  She used her time hanging in the dark to practice her lines. She would beg his touch, plead forgiveness, she would reason with him, she would whine. Basically, whatever happened, she was determined not to let him leave without giving her something to last a lifetime. Be it a single word, a kiss.

  Anything at all to show she had meant something to him and that in some tiny part of his brain he might even remember her after she was gone.

  Her heart seized in her chest as the door finally opened. Vinny was out there, talking to Derek.

  "I'm telling you, boss, you got to see this one to believe her. She's exactly your type."

  "I don't have a type, Vinny, and since when are you so anxious to peddle slaves off on me? Are you getting a commission these days?"

  "No, sir," he chuckled. "I just know kismet when I see it."

  That was the last word. She heard the door close again. Derek was behind her. She knew his breathing. She tried to keep from
crying out his name or otherwise ruining the game. She had to draw him in closer. That was the only way to get past his defenses.

  "You're a shapely little thing, aren't you?" Derek was right behind her, soaking her in.

  Chrissy heard the whip whistling in the air. He was getting ready to lash at her. Could she get away with not answering? He would know her voice for sure.

  "You should be dancing," he remarked. "I'll have to arrange that."

  The whip slapped her hip, only half seriously. "Nice and lean. I like that. And a good ass, too."

  Chrissy sighed. It was heaven to hear his voice, a pure delight to be appraised by this man, her one true master. If only he would see it that way, as well.

  "Excellent back." He teased her spine, tracing a line down to the base. "You need a tattoo," he rubbed the fleshy part. "Here."

  Yes. He'd spoken of that before. How she wanted to wear his marks. Indelible. Irremovable.

  "I wonder how you scream, little one. Let's find out, shall we?"

  Derek lashed at her behind. She absorbed the blow in tortured silence. He hit her a second time right after that, then a third. Still she stifled the pain.

  "You're a strong one." He caressed her hip, then squeezed the wounded buttock cheek. "But not smart. Holding out will only cause you that much more pain before you are broken, and mark my word, you will be broken."

  Chrissy took four more, her ass a ripped lattice of fire straps. Finally she cried out.

  Derek stopped at once. "That voice … am I hearing things?"

  He struck out again, inducing another cry. He continued, confirming his suspicions. "Son of a bitch!"

  Derek had her by the hair. The candle was in his hand. He turned her head, illuminating her face in the yellow glow. "Tell me," he said dryly, "that you have a twin sister."

  "No, sir," she offered meekly.

  Derek's face looked more ferocious than she'd ever seen, though he wasn't angry with her.

  Swearing up a storm, he threw the candle at the wall. It landed with a thud and promptly extinguished itself. Chrissy felt swallowed in the suddenly solitary darkness. Where was Derek, and what was he doing?

  She heard him pound on the wall. Then she heard him leave, slamming the door. The door opened again. He turned on the overhead light, and wasted no time telling her exactly how irresponsible she'd been.

  "Have you any clue what you've gotten yourself mixed up in? Do you think we play games around here?" he exclaimed. "I gave you a fair chance to get away clean. And you … you completely defied me. I'll have Vinny fired, that much is clear."

  "It's not Vinny's fault, I put him up to it," Chrissy defended.

  "But why on earth would you do such a thing?

  "I had to see you again. No matter what."

  He looked at her in utter disbelief. "Never in my life have I encountered such a defiant, exasperating, unpredictable female, do you know that?"

  The chained Chrissy looked at him and grinned. "I know, and I love you, too, Derek."

  His eyes looked like twin storms, but the winds no longer frightened her. She simply glared back, letting him know he'd met his match at long last. "Are you going to look at me all night?" she demanded, "or are you going to take me down and fuck me?"

  "What I ought to do is paddle your behind redder than Karl Marx's pajamas."

  "You have plenty of time for that later," she said. "But first, you need to take care of that hard-on."

  Derek frowned. "If I do this, I won't ever let you go again, you know that?"

  "I'm counting on it."

  "I'll be hell to live with," he warned.

  "Maybe I'll tame you," she teased.

  "I'm the one who will do the taming," he said proudly.

  "Yes … master."

  Those were the words to trip his trigger. He undid the shackles and lifted her into his arms. Tossing her onto the mattress he ordered her to all fours. Chrissy waited, open, submitted, fragrant. Derek offered no foreplay. He slipped into her at once, moving immediately to create the motion they both craved.

  "Yes," she hissed, feeling the relief, the end of the long thirst she'd endured. "That's it."

  They moved together, showing surprising harmony, as if they'd been doing this a hundred years. Clearly they fit together, though Chrissy had a feeling they would continue to discover new things about each other the rest of their lives.

  It would be a relationship unlike any other. They would have their secrets, their games. He'd wield the power, but she would always have the strength of sheer feminine desire to combat him. Yes, Chrissy would hold her own.

  "Oh, god," he moaned.

  "Say it," she begged. "Say my name."

  "Chrissy," he cried. "Oh, my Chrissy."

  It was the most beautiful sound in the world. It was like no one had ever said her name before.

  They exploded simultaneously in a thundering climax, enough to rock them both to their core, sapping every bit of their energy. Huddling close together on the mattress, they enjoyed the afterglow, the wonderful feeling that comes with knowing you've found the one.

  And should it surprise them that their love had come out of left field? That's how love operated, after all.

  "So are you going to keep me," she murmured, "or sell me off to the Arabs?"

  He pretended to give the matter some consideration. "You would fetch me a nice profit."

  She rolled him onto his back, a feat allowed solely by his discretion. "Take that back," she climbed across his midsection.

  He grabbed for her tits. "You'll have to torture me first."

  "Oh, god," she moaned, ready to serve him again. "I think I want to be the one being tortured, thank you very much."

  A few minutes later he was hard once more, and it was back to business.

  The business of controlling Chrissy.

  The End

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