Chapter 4

Chapter Four

I come to and find that Master Erek is bathing me, using a hand sprayer to wash my body. The room smells only of tangerines, which makes me wonder how long I was out.

My body feels empty inside, and utterly worn out. I know I have given them literally everything I have, all that I am. I am dying to see his face, to be sure he is pleased with me, but I cannot look. I don’t dare. I just lie there on the bottom of the tub, letting him handle me, and he is surprisingly gentle. Tender, almost. And once more I wonder what this gentleness with me will later reveal about his capacity for cruelty.

I can’t wait to find out.

Once I am rinsed to his satisfaction, he sits me upright, then helps me to my feet. I hate that I am unstable, barely able to stand. But once more he is sweet with me, supporting my body with his as he helps me to a stool. I sit, doll-like once more as he dries me with a thick towel, squeezing the water from my long hair, and then rubs a soothing cream into my skin before combing my hair out.

“You were out for some time,” he finally says. “We will feed you, then you will sleep.”

I don’t answer. I am not supposed to. And I’m almost shocked at the way he’s talking to me, as if I’m human, which is something we slaves are not supposed to be to those who own us.

He is like no Master I have ever come upon before.

He lifts my limp body in his arms and carries me into the bedroom. I get a glimpse of a large four-poster bed made of smoothed logs and piled high with quilts and pillows. The room is filled with the delicate scent of a fire burning in a fireplace, and I catch a glimpse of a large hearth to my left. Master Erek sets me down on a rug at the foot of the bed, and I collapse there, too worn to do anything else—not that I am supposed to. At least, I don’t think so. But I don’t know yet what these new Masters will demand of me.

He covers me with a soft blanket, then Master Séverin kneels down next to me and places two bowls on the floor, one filled with water, the other with some sort of thick soup.

“On your knees so you can eat and drink,” he orders, and I obey.

I am terribly thirsty, and I drink most of the water before turning to the bowl of soup. It’s thick and creamy, some sort of potato soup with bits of ham, and I lap it up, not realizing until I’m doing it how hungry I am. When I’m done he wipes my face roughly with a cloth napkin, but worn out as I am, I barely notice.

“Go to sleep, Girl. We begin anew tomorrow.”

I’m so tired. Perhaps more tired than I’ve ever been. The day has been a series of shocks, and the care these two Masters have shown me has been as much a shock as being caught in the snare trap. But I’m far too sleepy to even think about it, or to anticipate what tomorrow might bring. My eyes close, and I drift off.

I wake up in the dark to groaning and the scent of sex in the air. The bed shakes rhythmically, and I lean my back against the footboard, wanting a little bit of it, their fucking. I hear one of them moan—Master Erek, I think—and my pussy pulses with need.

Their breathing grows harsher, and I can smell their sweat, and it’s like some heady mixture of desire and maleness and the untouchable.

God, if only they would fuck me. If only they would invite me into their bed and place me between them, penetrating my body in every way possible: my cunt, my ass, my mouth.

The bed shakes harder, their breath coming in short, sharp pants, and my body heats even more.

If only I could see them, and yet this is somehow more delicious, this secretive voyeurism. If I concentrate, I can imagine every move. Every thrust of their hips, the stroking of a cock, their heated mouths on each other.

I could almost come simply listening, smelling them, imagining what I cannot see.

There are nearly simultaneous groans, then a deep growl from one of them, then the bed quiets. The air is sharp with the scent of male come.

Yes .

My pussy is throbbing, my clit so hard and swollen, I swear I can feel it rubbing between my thighs, aching, aching.

The room grows quiet as they settle into sleep, then all I hear is their breathing, and my own. I let the sound lull me, and soon I am dreaming once more.

It feels as if I haven’t slept for long when a muffled groan wakes me, but it’s not sex this time. No. It’s distress. I nearly bolt upright, but my years as a slave have taught me well. I don’t move, forcing my body to hold still. I wait, wondering.

Unintelligible murmuring from one of them, then he says, “Béatrice … Nooo…”

The voice is deep. Master Séverin?

Then again, but this time it’s said with a loud, anguished, guttural groan. “Béatrice!”

“Sev, my love.” Master Erek’s voice, husky with sleep. “Shh…it’s okay. Come on, Sev. You’re alright.”

There is some murmuring, but I can’t make out what they say. But one thing is unmistakable; Master Séverin had a nightmare, and Master Erek is comforting him, so sweetly. And it makes me wonder about them both. Who are they? How did they come together? Who is this Béatrice Master Séverin dreams of? What secrets do they hide?

We all have secrets, don’t we? And those of us in this bizarre and very formal world of kink more than anyone else, perhaps.

But I am merely a slave, and I have no idea how long I am to be with them. I may never know anything more about them than I do at this moment. I am not supposed to, which I understand quite well. I’m usually content enough with that idea, the not knowing. It’s part of us losing our identities within our slavehood, why our names are taken from us. Part of the supremely effective mind fuck that is crucial to our existence in this role. Why my curiosity has been awakened now, I don’t know.

With a quiet sigh I lay my head back down on my little pallet on the floor and close my eyes, returning to my own dreams.

I am awakened by my ass being invaded, some phallic object being shoved in there roughly.

I bite my lip to keep quiet as the object is withdrawn, then shoved in again, then again. It’s big and hard and solid, and very quickly the pain dissipates almost entirely, and I feel only pleasure. But I have only a few moments to enjoy the comfortable rhythm before it’s being jammed hard and deep inside me, and I let out a small sigh of pleasure. Yes, pleasure still, despite the pain.

No .

Because of it.

I hear a chuckle in response—Master Erek, I think. Then the object is removed once more, and Master Séverin lifts me with hard hands and lays me on my back on a long wooden bench beneath a window. I see the morning sunlight glimmering through a set of sheer curtains before he lifts his booted foot and presses down on the center of my chest. The bench is very hard beneath me; I can feel it on every one of the vertebrae in my spine, pressing, pressing. Harder and harder. Then Master Erek straddles the bench and my face, and grabs my chin, pulls my head back, and shoves his thick cock between my lips.

Oh, yes, this I can do.

I suck him in, until his heavy shaft is halfway down my throat, and I am choking, crying. And so damn desperate to please, I don’t care if he chokes me out with his cock. But, no. That’s a lie. I pray that he will. That he’ll do it over and over, until I am dreamy and drifting above my body as if in some ghostly form.

He tastes so delicious, very faintly of the tangerine bath oil mixed with come from last night, likely both his and Master Séverin’s.

“Ah, such lovely tears,” he murmurs, his tone rough with pleasure as he face-fucks me.

My body is on fire once more. With desire. With the need to serve . It’s so beautiful I nearly sob, except that I can’t when my throat is so full of cock. But the tears wash down my cheeks as I fall a little in love with my new Master.

And just when I think nothing could be any better than this, Master Séverin shoves his hand into my wet, weeping cunt and fucks me so hard I get dizzy. I blink hard, trying to breathe through my nose, to stay conscious so I won’t inadvertently harm Master Erek. And somehow in that moment I remember Master Séverin and his nightmare last night, and my heart goes tight in my chest with some strange, yearning sorrow. But Master Erek has his cock so deep in my throat, and I cannot breathe. Just as I begin to really struggle, he pulls out and comes on my face, jizz everywhere: my mouth, my chin, my hair, before it drips down my neck.

My tongue darts out to catch as much as I can, and he captures my sore jaw in his hand.

“Look at me, Girl. Ah, yes, you really are something. Drink my come, pretty Girl. Drink it and I will become a part of you.”

You already have.

But of course I can’t say it out loud.

My heart blooms in my chest, like a sun-warmed flower opening its petals.

And as my heart blooms, desire blossoms like a flame in my pussy, spreading through my limbs, and I don’t know how I’ll hold back from coming.

“Don’t you fucking come, Girl,” Master Séverin demands.

His command in itself is like a new shaft of pleasure, spearing into my body, hot and trembling, driving me ever closer to that edge.

I force myself to hold on even as he fucks me harder, deeper, but in moments my cunt begins to squeeze around his hand, and I’m afraid I will be lost.

“No!” he barks, withdrawing his hand, leaving me too empty.

But in a moment I hear his zipper, then very quickly Master Erek is holding onto the back of my knees, pulling my legs up around my shoulders, and Master Séverin parts my ass cheeks with rough hands, and shoves his cock into my asshole.

I bite my cheek to keep from crying out. He’s so big, so hard, and he goes all the way in with a single, devastating stroke.

My ass is well trained, but he is truly enormous. I pull in a breath and do my best to relax so I can take him without tearing. Not that the Masters and Mistresses ever care if we tear, and we are always well cared for after, if we need it. But I want him inside me for as long as possible. If my ass can comfort him from his bad dreams, then I will have done my duty.

He presses deeper, slides out, then rams his giant cock into me once more.

Ah, yes… Thank you, my Master.

He says something to Master Erek in French—I am too far gone to decipher it—and Master Erek pulls my legs up higher so that I am bent nearly in half. Then Master Séverin shoves his fingers back into my pussy, filling me up. Another finger, and then his whole fist is pushing inside my cunt. I don’t know that I can take it all, with his cock filling my ass. The pressure is unbelievable. But I want it. It feels so good, and it hurts terribly, and I am dizzy with need and that budding adoration that always happens when someone is really hurting me.

It feels as if my entire body is being fucked. I blink in the glare of the sunlight pouring through the curtains and glance up at his face—I don’t know why I dare to do this. And in that moment Master Séverin looks down at me, locking his dark gaze to mine. His eyes are so hard, so thoroughly shadowed. I can see the pain there.

I wait for him to slap my face for daring to look at him, but he simply stares at me, his face twisting with pleasure as he comes into my ass. And I am overcome with sensation, with a need I can’t describe even to myself. Not simply to come—it’s more than that—but oh, yes, to come.

Then I’m coming and coming, my body arching off the bench as Master Séverin continues to fist me, my pussy spasming around his hand. And he’s watching me, his eyes intense as I blink over and over, as I try to catch my breath.

“Again,” he commands, this time pulling his hand from me, then going back in with maybe two fingers and curling them against my g-spot.

“Yes, Sev,” comes Master Erek’s voice, thick with desire. “Make our pretty Girl do it.”

Master Séverin fucks me hard and fast while Master Erek presses down on my abdomen, and the two of them lean in over me to kiss each other.

The pressure builds inside me, carrying me higher and higher, and soon I’m squirting, liquid gushing from my cunt, the sensation drawing a long groan from me.

“Again,” Master Séverin repeats as he keeps working my g-spot.

He is merciless, but that’s exactly what I crave. And as he works my sore cunt, the pressure spiraling once more, he and Master Erek kiss again, their mouths pressed together over my prone body.

And God, it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, maybe because Master Séverin is the most relentlessly stern human being I’ve ever seen. In moments I’m squirting and groaning again, soaking the bench and Master Séverin’s hand.

Master Erek pulls back, laughing. “Yes, Sev. Christ, that’s good. Fuck the Girl up, my love.”

He begins again, fucking me hard, his fingers curled against my swelling g-spot, and in moments liquid floods from my cunt as the two of them grin over me.

Master Erek leans in and bites my cheek hard.

“So fucking beautiful,” he says, his voice quiet, as though telling me a secret.

My head is spinning. Squirting always does that to me.

“Get her cleaned up,” Master Séverin says, pulling his hand from my body and straightening. “I don’t suppose you know how to cook, Girl? You may answer me.”

“Yes, Master. I can cook.”

He nods his head sharply, then he’s gone.

Master Erek helps me to my feet and catches me when I stumble. He leads me into the bathroom and turns on the shower.

“Get cleaned up. Can you stand now on your own, Girl? Tell me yes or no.”

Why do I want to lie? To keep him there with me a little longer? But I can’t do it.

“Yes, Master. I can stand.”

“You are to shower, wash your hair, dry yourself, then come to the kitchen. You will be on your knees in our presence unless we have you walking.”

I don’t answer. I know not to. There is no need to acknowledge an order that will simply be obeyed.

As the warm water falls over my skin, I try to figure out what’s going on with me. My endless curiosity about these two Masters. My fascination with their obvious love for each other. My preoccupation with Master Séverin’s nightmare last night.

But my mind and my body are still buzzing with coming and squirting. With pleasure and pain. With that wicked combination of the two that is my absolute kryptonite. It’s too hard to think. And I am not supposed to, am I? This inability to completely turn off my brain has always made me feel like a failure as a slave. No one knows but me, but no one else has to. I understand my own failings.

I am very much afraid that these two Masters might be my complete undoing, they make me think so much.

Shut up, shut up .

But my brain has a mind of its own.

Ha!

Thank god no one can hear me think but me.