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to come.

“None of that.” She sensed the loss of his heat as he moved away from her, came back. Something cool and hard entered her pussy, sliding in like a knife into a peach, a scary thought when associated with her tender regions. Then she felt the discomfort of being stretched, and though she didn’t hear the telltale clicks, a cold feeling ran through her belly as she realized he’d used a speculum, like the doctor used for pelvic exams. It held her wide open, reduced the ability of the pussy to spasm and create its own orgasm.

She cried out as something else closed over her clit, something ice cold. “Jon’s version of the ice pack,” he said. “It will feel like ice, at least for several moments. Until that hot pussy of yours warms it up.”

It was impossible to stay still, but he’d anticipated that, with the way he’d bound her. She was twitching, convulsing, but he had her arms stretched out to that anchor point, her head toward the floor, her legs straight up and spread. Her range of movement was severely restricted. Then he went to work on her with two other tools.

The first was a flogger with thin straps that stung, eliciting tiny cries. He alternated that with the solid thunk of a weighted slapper, which had more impact. Back and forth, back and forth, and each time her pussy spasmed from the blow, she felt that speculum holding her open. He awoke the still-sensitive nerve endings from yesterday’s caning and it became part of the spiraling agony.

Ben… Something was tearing open inside of her, something important and vital, and dark. Every fear, every childhood pain was swelling up inside of her, twining with this out-of-control lust in a macabre way, a parade of pleasure and agony that was going to drown her.

She didn’t stop crying out even as he stopped using the weapons. She had no control over any of her reactions, verbal or physical. As his broad head pushed against her lubricated ass, she made a keening note. She was tight, but he worked against her, spurring her on with the words that filtered through the mask’s cover.

“You can take me. You’re soaking wet, you want my cock so much. Concentrate and take it. You were born to serve a Master who works you over until that smart mouth and far-too-clever mind of yours gives out and you just become mindless, serving him with everything you are.”

“You… Born to serve…you.” She didn’t give a damn if he’d told her not to talk, she wouldn’t let that one pass.

“I haven’t used you hard enough, apparently.” His cock withdrew, and she snarled in protest. Said some things she’d never thought would come from her mouth. Did she just call him a fucking bastard? In response, she got a diabolical chuckle and her mouth was forced open. She gagged as a thick rubber dildo was pushed in, so wide it held her tongue down and stretched the mask around her lips. When he buckled it tight around her head, he’d taken away her sight, most of her hearing, and now her ability to speak. She thought she’d been coming apart before. She realized then he wasn’t going to stop until he’d shattered her into a million pieces.

* * * * *

“Fucking bastard, hmm? Baby, you don’t know how much of a bastard I can be.”

Her fingers dug into the floor but she screamed against the gag as something slapped against her ass. Rubber…flat…like a spatula. Fuck. The danger of a Master who cooked—he had a whole inventory of tools with more than one use.

Each time he hit her with it, the pain screamed through her nerve endings, made her shriek against the gag. But right after, he’d pause, his palm passing over her buttock. The throbbing would turn warm…and she’d want more. Until the next hit. It was crazy. She knew the type of person she was, that she craved pain as much as pleasure at his hand, but she’d had no ability to prove it other than her own experiments in the privacy of a dorm room or co-op apartment. Though the levels of pain she’d tried on her own might be similar, it was a hell of a lot different from the psychology of being helpless to whatever he wanted to do to her.

The cold on her clit was becoming an aching pain, it was all becoming agony and excruciating stimulation at once. He gave her four more hard strokes, alternating with stinging taps on the inside of her thighs.

“You ready to behave now? Don’t bother to nod. I know you’re a little liar.”

He came back at her with his cock. She focused with all she had, and he worked himself against her sphincter muscles. She pushed against him, wanting him, wanting him now, and the muscles gave, letting him slide in deep, ruthless, irresistible. She wished she could flex the muscles inside her pussy. It was distressing to have him sunk deep in her while her pussy was held open, rendered as helpless to his will as any other part of her.

She was lost, just lost. All she had in this silent darkness was him. He began to thrust, shoving her forward so she had to brace her straining, trembling muscles against the onslaught. His fingers reached beneath, pinched that cold thing off her clit, slid the speculum free. There was a muffled clatter as he tossed it away, replaced it with his own fingers, sliding them into her cunt as his thumb and forefinger went to work on restoring the life to her frozen clit.

It swelled up in her like a finger-of-God cat-five tornado. “No, no, no.” She was wailing against the gag. This orgasm was going to tear her apart, take her into places she hadn’t known existed. He was beyond what she could handle, no matter how much she loved him. But he wasn’t leaving her a choice. Hadn’t even given

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