Punish Me, Please Read online

  “No, Master. Sorry, Master.” Sheila removed it meekly, stripping herself to bra and shoes.

  “Give it to Mr. Jones,” he said as she tried to hand it over.

  She gave it to the chauffer, whose name she had just learned.

  “The bra, as well, and the shoes.”

  Sheila unclasped the demi-bra without argument, allowing the cups to fall away. Her breasts sprang free, completely exposed in the dank night air. She held her breath waiting as he licked his lips, examining them with his eyes.

  “We’ll mark these,” he traced the tip of his finger around her left globe. “And pierce these.”

  “Ooo,” she exclaimed as he poked her nipple hard.

  “Give Mr. Jones the bra,” he ignored. “And take off the shoes. Sluts like you should be barefoot as much as possible.”

  She had to lean against the trunk to remove them.

  “An ankle bracelet,” Stone pointed out to Mr. Jones. “Have you ever seen a slut more eager for slavery?”

  “No, Sir.”

  Sheila wanted to protest that lots of women had ankle bracelets. But what could she possibly say? Her body had more than proved his point all night. Still, she had to hold onto what dignity she could manage. “Mr. Stone...Master. You don’t have to do this. Whatever you want to do to me tonight sexually, I will let you. Take me hom,e and I’ll put up no resistance.”

  “Of course you’ll resist, stupid cunt, because I like it. It’s a game, and we’ll play it until I’m bored. After that, I will break you, and then you can lick my feet and suck cock to your heart’s content.”

  “I’ll suck now,” she said pathetically. “I’ll give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had. I’ll even take it anally. I’ll be a good lay, Master. You won’t be disappointed.”

  He touched her stinging cheek, unleashing a tidal wave of unwanted, uncontrollable sensation. “What would you know about pleasuring a man...virgin?”

  “I...I would try, Master, very hard.”

  “Patience girl, you’ll get your chance to perform soon enough. For now, I’ll take your hands...behind your back.”

  Sheila complied. Her wrists were immediately locked in steel bracelets by Mr. Jones. She tested the strength of the chains. There was no hope. She would never escape them.

  “Mouth open,” he ordered.

  Mr. Jones shoved the foul tasting ball between her teeth. It had straps on either side of it, which fit over her head and around the back of her neck. He cinched them together by means of buckles.

  “Charming,” said Stone, running his finger tips over her face. “You should do some splendid drooling on the ride home.”

  Sheila made a moaning sound as his hand moved to her throat. She flinched, pulling back.

  Stone responded swiftly and cruelly, slapping each of her tits with short, stabbing blows. Each hit burned like fire. She cried out in useless protest as he repeated the attack, meting out two more slaps. Her breasts throbbed; they felt swollen and anguished and as he prepared to do it yet again. She could only beg with her eyes.

  Stone held his hand back, sparing her for the moment. “This is my body now, slut,” he warned viciously. “Don’t you ever deny me, is that clear?”

  She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

  “Good. Now where were we before I was so rudely interrupted?” He squinted his eyes. “Oh, yes, I recall. I was choking you. You will kindly put your neck back where it belongs.”

  Stone lifted his hand, putting it in front of her, claw-like, expectant. Sheila sobbed, broken as she leaned forward, placing her neck in his grasp, surrendering to his overwhelming will.

  “Good girl.” He caressed her naked breast, and at the same time, he squeezed her neck.

  Pain and pleasure. Pleasure and pain.

  The juices from her pussy dripped shamelessly down her bare leg. She pleaded with her eyes, no longer sure what to even ask for. She was so far over her head.

  Stone stepped away. “Mr. Jones...”

  Jones opened the trunk. Sheila protested desperately, whimpering into her gag, biting at the ball and shaking her head like mad. She tried to run to Stone, but Jones had her by the back of the hair. He yanked hard, tearing at the roots. Stone showed no concern for his subordinate’s brutality. If anything, he looked bored. For some reason, this frightened Sheila more than anything else. She needed this man, and she needed him to need her. He had gotten her all revved up, teased her through abuse and now she was craving the main course, needing for him to force her to accede to her own submissive desires.

  What she did not want or need was separation from Stone, even for a second. Despite the pain in her head, she kept fighting. Jones ended her rebellion, grabbing her tight around the middle, heaving her like a rag doll up and into the trunk.

  She ended up on her side, lying on a thin layer of carpet. She was still pleading as Jones put his hand on the door ready to slam it.

  “Don’t you pee in there, little missy,” Stone stood alongside him, “or you’ll stay locked up like this all night.”

  The metal lid slammed down with finality and doom. At once Sheila’s world turned to biting darkness, a seeping blackness that licked her bruised cheek and lapped at her equally bruised breast.

  How had this happened? This morning she had been a normal working girl, living alone in an apartment, and now, just twelve hours later, here she was bound, chained and half naked, imprisoned in the back end of a vehicle.

  She felt the vibration as the car started up. They were moving, backing out of the alley and into the street. Sheila stretched her legs, reaching the side of the car. She kicked out. The metal was solid as she knew it would be. She tested the strength of the lid with her hands, pushing up with her palms. That wasn’t budging either.

  Her heart pounded in her chest. Mr. Stone had her completely at his mercy. He was forcing her to call him master, and now he was taking her somewhere, in bondage. Punishment awaited her. And pain.

  And sex, too, if he felt like it. Not the sort of gentle love making most young women dream of, but brutal possession. This wasn’t her body anymore, it was his. An instrument, a device for his pleasure. Her wishes, her feelings didn’t matter.

  But she could still feel lust. She could still feel unstoppable heat between her thighs. Too much to ignore. Not when it was so easy to compress her legs a little further against her chest, pressing her thighs a little tighter, even as she surrendered to the motions of the vehicle, vibrating her to a foreign rhythm, a captive, slave rhythm.

  She took her orgasm dripping in sweat, chomping on the ball and drooling. She felt ashamed, wickedly ashamed, but excited too, as she writhed in her tiny metal prison, her sex spasming uncontrollably, just like she had a cock in her, Mr. Stone’s cock.

  On and on it went, until she lost track of time and place. She rode the wave, feeling so much a slave, so much less than free. She whimpered when it finally passed.

  Fear rushed in to take the place of the receding pleasure. Would he punish her for coming like this? Was she committing a sin against her new status by pleasuring herself? This wasn’t her pussy, and therefore, it was not her orgasm.

  Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Maybe she would get away with her misbehavior.

  There was a laugh. The trunk positively reeked of sex. Her body was covered with the evidence. She was in trouble all right. He was going to do things to her. By morning she would be a different woman, an experienced, awakened, used woman.

  A true slave and not merely a silly girl pretending as she had been in her fantasies. But what would the reality be like?

  Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine where they were going, what sort of place he’d take her to. It was no use. Mr. Stone had swallowed her fantasies. He had claimed them.

  Just as he had claimed her.

  The implications were deep and dark as her surroundings. But also morbidly delicious. It was going to happen, all of it, like it or not.

  Just then the limousine stopped. She had n
o idea where she was. No one was letting her out. Not just yet.

  She would have to wait. For him.

  For her Master.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Stone helped Mr. Jones haul the girl out onto her feet. She stood shivering, barefoot on the floor of the parking area.

  “You stink,” he said, sniffing the sex and sweat on her body. “You’ve orgasmed, too, haven’t you, Sheila?”

  She looked at him with panicked eyes, making animated noises into her rubber gag.

  He smacked her hip, getting her attention the way a man would any animal. “Open your legs.”

  Sheila spaced her feet apart.

  “It’s important for you to know,” he said, “that this begins your formal captivity. This particular area of the parking garage is reserved for my penthouse. No one else has access except my staff and guests. The elevator we will use is private as well. I will take you upstairs and do whatever I want to you. In the morning, you will return to work though you will continue to be my slave. I’ll provide for all your accommodations from now on and all your transportation. You’ll not keep your apartment or any of your personal effects. I’ll attend to it all, wardrobe, toiletries, even the food you eat. This will free you for your one function, which is to be pleasing to me, twenty-four hours a day. Is this clear?”

  Her eyes were a mix of wonder, shock and horror. Of course it wasn’t clear. How could it be? She had no clue what lay ahead. He was just trying to scare and overwhelm her, that’s all.

  He took hold of one of her breasts, decisively, his hand claw-like and intent on mayhem. She wanted to shy away but knew she could not. Her sighs of temerity quickly gave way to unwanted pleasure.

  Joy coursed through Stone’s sadistic veins. “The complete loss of power you will experience, my dear Chosen Sheila, will correlate directly to the gaining of my own over you. Because you will never be in a completely public setting again, I will be free to treat you according to my whims, without regard to social convention. You will learn that I am Master to you, and god, in every sense of the word. You are nothing any longer but the vessel of my pleasure.”

  To prove his point, he ceased caressing and slapped her. Her cheek was angry red. She moaned through tears as he manipulated her nipple roughly. “My great love is elegant torture, young lady. I shall dress you in the finest clothes and tear them from your cringing body. I will buy you fine meals one day only to make you beg for scraps the next. I will tickle you to laughter, just to make your tears more interesting. I will work you day and night, fuck and abuse and pamper you until you are all used up.”

  Sheila squirmed like putty in his hands. What a hot little piece she was. His cock was raging hard for her. He could so easily violate her wet and willing body now, but he vowed he would not make use of this flesh until it was properly marked.

  Bringing her to the edge of completion, his hand having its way with her full, round globe, he denied her. “Time for a little ride, Princess.” Stone grabbed her arm and yanked her toward the elevator.

  “By the way,” he told her when they were sealed inside the silver cube ascending up to the top level of the sixty story building. “Just to make sure no one gets any ideas about what’s really happening to you at work, we’re going to develop a nice little cover story for you. Not that I really need ever fear the authorities, mind you, but I do so want to humiliate you in front of everyone else.”

  “You’re going to tell them you have a new boyfriend, Sheila. One whom you adore and to whom you happily submit. You will willingly discuss the things he does to you and how much you enjoy them. You will be especially graphic when talking to young Johnny.”

  Her eyes telegraphed distress.

  “I thought you wouldn’t like that,” he laughed. “If you ask me, there are some feelings there for him you don’t want to admit. Too bad you were so stubborn and didn’t accept his offers. You might well be married or spoken for, in which case I’d have left you alone. I never interfere with true love, you see.”

  Actually, he didn’t even believe in love, but he knew she did, and he saw an opportunity here to increase her own misery. And maybe even to make for some interesting fun with Johnny down the line.

  Lord knows Stone needed the entertainment. He might also make a little money in the bargain. He could even sell her to Johnny at some point, netting a handsome profit. First things first, though. Where slaves were concerned, it was always pleasure before business.

  The elevator chimed, indicating they had reached the floor. His floor. His humble abode, at least while he was in the city. The doors of the elevator opened directly into a Mediterranean style courtyard with colored tile floor, sunken tubs, and a central billowing fountain. This central space, which was two stories high with a glass dome opening to the sky, was ringed with marble columns, flown in from an ancient palace in Algiers.

  He had exotic plants as well and a large number of rare sculptures. It was designed to look like a Roman garden. A series of modern rooms lay off the central area, including the kitchen, dining area and den. On the second floor, behind the railing which ran around the perimeter of the garden by the columns, were bedrooms. His own master bedroom and guest rooms as well as special rooms for play. Sheila would become quite familiar with these, especially the fully equipped dungeon in which a slave could be exquisitely tortured for hours at a time or even overnight.

  Stone had Sheila wait on the tile while he conferred with Mr. Jones. There were a few small matters to attend to for the morning’s schedule, and he also wanted to make sure the man went by Sheila’s apartment to make sure things were secure. Sheila herself wouldn’t be going back, though she didn’t know it yet.

  She would spend her time here now, or in the office, where he kept a small hidden apartment. In both places, she would be kept as a prisoner, subject to all manner of abuses.

  “You don’t mind if Mr. Jones takes your keys do you?” Stone addressed her as he snatched them from her purse. “There are some things to get squared away. It won’t take much effort to effect my total domination over you. I’ve had you watched for some time, I know your movements. You have made no friends in the city since coming here, and you have no family to question what is happening to you. Your moving out will be easily explained to the landlady. You’ll go with Mr. Jones tomorrow and pay off your lease at which time you’ll tell her you’re moving in with a boyfriend. Your belongings will be disposed of. Since you are property, there won’t be any point to your pretending to have any yourself.

  “If you’re a good girl, I might keep a few things for you. Or not. Mr. Jones is going to uncuff you and take off the gag. You will kneel on the floor. Shortly, we will attend to your formal enslaving.”

  Stone watched as Jones freed her wrists. It was no real freeing, of course, but only a transfer of her hands over to his use. She massaged her sore wrists, still looking at him in awe and dread. Jones took the ball gag out of her mouth. Drool ran down her chin. She had soaked her bosom with her own spittle. Tentatively, she worked her jaws.

  “A long tailed buggy whip, please, Mr. Jones,” said Stone. “And a cane.”

  Sheila took a step backwards. “Can we talk about this, Master?”

  “Did I hear something, Mr. Jones?” He cocked his head. “It almost sounded like the slut speaking. But that couldn’t be. The slut is supposed to be kneeling.”

  Sheila stood, impotent, trapped. She could make a run for it, but she would never make it. She was theirs; she had to face it.

  “The slut requires much discipline,” Jones concluded.

  “Indeed, you are correct.” Stone held out his hands, ready to receive the devices of punishment from his assistant.

  Jones handed him a rattan cane, one of his prize possessions from Punjab State in India and an excellent, long tailed buggy whip, custom made in England.

  “Will you need anything else, Sir?”

  “No, thank you, Jones.” He struck at the air, slicing it with the unforgiving bamboo. “
That will be all. You are dismissed.”

  “Sir,” he bowed.

  “Mr. Jones, don’t leave me here,” she cried, her eyes feasting on the dual instruments of torture.

  Jones ignored her, inserting a key in the elevator door lock. The doors slid open, and Sheila made a run for it. It was laughably foolish as escape attempts went. Stone attributed it to panic combined with ignorance as to her true. Extending his foot, he sent her sprawling.

  Sheila landed on her stomach with a gasp. Reaching out her hand, she made a last appeal for Jones’ help. “You can’t let him do this!”

  The doors pinged shut. Jones was gone.

  Stone let her have it with the tip of the whip, a subtle, stinging blow to her ass.

  “Ow,” she cried. “Please don’t whip me...”

  “You were given an order,” he reminded. “This is the third time I am having to repeat it. Shall I show you how I handle bad girls?”

  “No, Master, I’m being a good girl,” she read the dark undercurrent in his voice. Swiftly, with no further argument, she abased herself, naked at his feet.

  “Do you feel at home like that, Sheila?” he mocked.

  “Yes, Master,” she replied, her eyes warily following his hands, trying to watch the whip and cane at the same time.

  “Which would you like first?” He held them both up.

  She looked at him piteously. “Please, Master. Don’t make me choose.”

  “If you don’t,” he said, “I will beat you twice as hard.

  Rarely had he seen such torment on a female’s face. Either choice would bring her unknown agonies beyond her worst nightmares. Was there a lesser of two evils?

  “The...c—cane,” she said at last.

  He put the cane under her chin, lifting it, until her neck was bent back painfully. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “The cane, Master,” she said loud and clear.

  “What about it?”

  “I choose the cane, Master,” she managed.

  “What do you want me to do with it?”

  Fresh tears were in her eyes. Her lips tremored. “I want you to...p—unish me, Master.”