Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

I have been at the cabin with my two Masters for a little more than a week. They have tortured me with wooden paddles, rubber floggers, and toothy rope binding my nipples or strung between the seam of my pussy lips, then left me alone for hours. They’ve shoved enormous metal plugs into my ass, hung me in leather straps to make a sort of sling attached to bolts in the ceiling, and whipped me with a single-tail until my skin is on fire from the lashes, then rubbed salve into my wounds.

I’ve had an enema every few days while Master Séverin fists me, and each time it’s become harder and harder to hold it all in: the scalding hot liquid and my orgasm. I have not been allowed to come since Madame Gemma’s slave Boy fucked me with the speculum. And every night I lie on my pallet on the floor and listen to my beautiful Masters fucking. Their panting breath, their sighs of pleasure, their growls as they come, make me suffer more than any of the implements they use on me.

The scent of their sweat and their come has become a comfort to me. A comfort and an aphrodisiac. Listening to them is torture in itself, but what beautiful torture it is.

And when I am with them, sometimes Master Séverin will look deeply into my eyes, as if he wants to ask a question. But he remains silent as he searches my face.

Master Erek hurts me the most, but it’s always countered by his gentleness with me, his wickedly lovely smiles. And on those very rare occasions when he makes Master Séverin laugh, it pleases me in some strange way, when I have never before been concerned about my Mistresses or Masters, other than serving them well and knowing they are pleased with me. But there is something happening here, a kind of almost organic symbiosis between all of us. An ebb and flow of pain and pleasure, of simply being together.

I am probably giving my existence in their life far too much significance. I am merely a slave. An object to them. And yet, so often when they are fucking with me—especially those enemas, when my sternest Master gazes into my eyes—I find I lose myself completely, sometimes for several hours at a time. And when I come out of it and back into my head, all I can think of is how very desperately I love them. And Master Séverin perhaps most of all.

I am one fucked-up Girl. But I am, finally, exactly what I’m supposed to be. Lost in my slavehood. An object to myself as much as I am to my Masters. And the relief is indescribable. I crave those moments even more than ever before, because now I know what it feels like. And I cannot get enough.

It’s my ninth night with my beautiful Masters, and I lie on the floor listening to them as they start fucking, which they do every night. My body heats as the scent of their desire permeates the air, stronger even than the wood smoke from the fireplace in the room. I squeeze my thighs together, then force myself to stop. I know better. But oh, this truly is torture, knowing they take their pleasure with one another, but not with me.

A tear escapes and slips down my cheek, then another, then more as they continue to fuck, their groans of need filling the air. When the groans dwindle to sighs of satisfaction, I go to wipe the tears away with my hand, but my wrist is caught in a hard grip.

Master Erek.

My heart pounds.

“Come with me,” he says, pulling me from my pallet and guiding me to the bed.

Master Séverin is propped up against the pillows, dressed only in black silk boxers. His body is lean and beautiful. I can see the fine lines of his form in the dim firelight. His hard cock tents his boxers, making my mouth water.

“On your knees on the bed, Girl,” Master Erek orders.

I comply, climbing onto the bed, the down comforter sinking a little under my weight, and I bend down until my head touches the fluffy whiteness at Master Séverin’s feet. My pussy is dripping wet already.

The mattress shifts, and then Master Erek is lying on his side, his face next to mine.

“Girl,” he whispers. “Such a pretty, pretty Girl. One of the prettiest I’ve ever seen. And so compliant. And yet…I feel as if something has been missing in you.”

“Yes,” Master Séverin says. “But I believe that’s changing. She’s changing.”

“It has to, love,” Master Erek says to him. “If it doesn’t, she cannot stay with us.”

My heart plummets. Not that I thought this would be a permanent arrangement, but the reality of losing them is too near, hearing him say the words. And at the same time, I’m filled with such a deep, gnawing shame at not being able to be what I am supposed to be, and I begin to cry. I can’t help it. Long sobs, as quietly as I can, but not quietly enough.

Master Séverin sits up and grabs my face, forcing me to look at him. He stares into my eyes, and it only makes me cry harder.

Master Erek leans in from my right side and sweeps a few fingers over my cheek.

“Christ, but the way this Girl cries. Her tears are so damn beautiful. I don’t know that I can let her go, despite her difficulty in sinking into her slavehood. She is so good in every other way. What do you think, my love?”

“I think we should make her cry harder.”

Oh, yes, please…

My body, my heart, surge with a need so acute, so sharply edged, I can barely stand it. Do I break down before them? Do I come as I sob? I want it all, in a way I cannot deny and have absolutely no choice in.

If I thought I was a twisted, fucked-up mess before, it has never been more evident than it is right now.

Master Erek sits up and I can hear him undressing, and I yearn to see his naked body. But he gets back on the bed behind me, on his knees, I think, and lifts my arms over my head, then coils his strong arms around my ribs, holding me painfully tight.

“Hands clasped behind your head, pretty Girl,” he commands.

When I obey, my beautiful Master Séverin sits up on his knees and he takes my breasts in his hands, cupping them for a moment, and my nipples go hard—I swear I can feel them swell, as if they’re trying to reach out to him. As he sweeps his fingers over the hard tips, a shock of desire lances through me, and the sensation is so exquisitely unexpected I let a moan escape.

“Silence,” he orders with a hard slap across my face.

I hang my head, trying to show my obedience, even as Master Erek holds me in such a position that my back is arched, my tits held high. And Master Séverin leans in and takes my nipple into his warm, wet mouth. Instantly, my pussy is soaking wet, and as he begins to suck I’m afraid I’ll come. But then he bites, so damn hard I gasp as his teeth sink into my flesh.

He lets my nipple slip from his mouth and goes to the other one, licking at first, then biting down, even harder this time, and it makes my clit pulse, almost as if his mouth is there. Then he lets my nipple go and moves his mouth to the full curve of the underside of my breast, where he bites me again, so hard with his sharp teeth I know he’s drawing blood. Blood play always frightens me, yet thrills me in equal measure, and I am even closer to coming, knowing what he’s done. He moves his mouth a few inches and bites me again, and again and again, all over both of my breasts, then my ribs, and then he moves around to that tender spot on my side, right at the curve of my waist. He bites me so hard I yelp, and the tears are spilling down my cheeks while Master Erek laughs, a low, sultry chuckle full of pleasure.

I am humiliated, as I always am when I cry, no matter how often I do it. No matter how much a Master loves a slave’s tears. And I’m so fucking turned on. My mind is slipping deep into my slavehood, my brain going dreamy, my vision fogged by pain and desire, and the feeling of truly being a slave.

Theirs.

Yes .

Master Erek pulls me in tighter again, until my shoulders ache, but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I am serving my Masters. That my pain, my blood, and my tears please them.

When Master Séverin sits up to look at me, pulling my head up to gaze into my eyes, he wears a smile that is so purely wicked and so purely pleased, it makes my head spin. And his dark eyes hold some emotion I can’t quite read, other than the power of it. But I feel it. It makes my heart hammer so fast, as though hummingbird wings are beating in there. If I weren’t being held so firmly I would surge toward him, craving his touch, his nearness.

“I love you,” I whisper, unable to help myself, suddenly desperate to let him know.

So many expressions cross his features so quickly, I’m unable to keep up. His eyes narrow, then widen, and he leans in until his face is inches from mine.

He says very quietly, “I love you, too, Girl.”

My heart stutters, then seems to jump out of my chest.

“But now I have to really punish you,” he continues. “Know that I do it with love, my Girl. Because it is what you need. And what we need.”

I give a small nod of my head to let him to know I understand.

But the truth is, I don’t even know what is happening here. This is something entirely new for me, this brief but deep communication with my Master. Of course I adore my Mistress Clara, but do I love her? Not like this.

“Chain her up,” Master Séverin tells Master Erek.

Master Erek releases me and pulls me by my ankles off the bed and onto the floor.

“Stay,” he orders.

I wouldn’t think of moving, of doing anything else wrong.

Did I really say those words aloud? And did my beautiful, sad Master Séverin say them back to me? Or is this what slavespace can do: make me imagine that my fondest wish is coming true?

Master Erek goes to a trunk up against one wall and begins pulling heavy metal chains out, then he pulls me to my feet. I’m so dizzy and weak, it’s hard to stand, but he steadies me, as always. And it’s Master Séverin who fastens a pair of leather cuffs around my wrists, and leather shackles around my ankles.

The leather is so soft, it tells me they have something really terrible planned for me.

The two of them move me to the end of the bed, and the backs of my thighs press against that soft edge as Master Séverin reaches up to do something overhead, out of my sight. When he raises my arms up over my head, I realize he’s fastening my cuffs to something—a spreader bar, perhaps—hung from the ceiling.

Master Erek stands before me now, dressed only in a pair of black boxer briefs. His body is solid muscle, his arms and thighs thick, his stomach a solid six-pack. And his arms are fully tattooed, all the way to his shoulders, in black and grey, and part of his chest, too. I don’t know why this seems unexpected. But his ink is so beautiful, and so much a part of him, and when he turns to retrieve something else, I see that his back is fully tattooed, in what looks to be Viking designs. But I am too far gone already to really know.

The two of them begin to wrap me in chains. The metal is cold and the chains are heavy, weighing me down more and more as they weave them around my torso and over my shoulders, binding my breasts in the cool steel but leaving my nipples bared. They work together in flawless symmetry. And although the chains are heavy and already making my muscles ache, I feel beautiful in them. Decorated.

Master Erek attaches a pair of nipple clamps, then tightens them, turning the evil little screws. They have sharp metal teeth that bite into my already tender flesh, left bruised and bitten by Master Séverin’s teeth. But there is a rhythm to everything that is happening now, and I am sinking further and further.

I feel beautiful. Adorned. Treasured.

He attaches small iron weights to the clamps, and they pull my tortured flesh. But I wear them proudly, as if they were made of diamonds. They are, in my mind, in that dusky, ethereal place I’ve gone to.

And yet, I am more here in my body than I have ever been in my life.

Master Erek disappears once more and returns with a Violet Wand with a long, metal spike attached to it.

I take in a breath. This will be very bad.

He turns it on, and with a small laugh, he touches it to my chains, and a shock goes through me, traveling the entire length of the heavy chain wrapped around my body.

He grins at me, delighted already. “Stick out your tongue, Girl.”

I do it, and the shock is not as bad as one might expect. It makes him chuckle, and so I am pleased with myself.

Then Master Séverin steps in and takes the Wand.

He runs it over the chains, barely, but not quite touching them, making the electricity coming from the Wand and conducting through the metal spike arc, sending shock after shock through me. I am so full of endorphins and pain, my vision goes black, but he doesn’t let up. He shocks the metal clamps on my nipples, over and over, relentlessly. And though I know he’s waiting for me to cry, I am too lost in sensation. So fucking terrible. So fucking good.

He stops and grabs my face, bringing his so close to mine, it seems almost as if he might kiss me.

“One way or another,” he growls at me, then releases me so suddenly, I would have fallen if it weren’t for the chains and the cuffs holding me in place.

“Come,” he says to Master Erek, and they both immediately walk from the room, closing the door behind them.

Please don’t leave me alone .

I can’t say the words. But my heart breaks a little, knowing they will. Knowing they have. And not knowing if it will be an hour, or through the entire day and night.

I hang my head and whisper a prayer, hoping, hoping. But in moments desperation sets in and I let out an enormous sob, my cheeks soaked with tears immediately.

Don’t leave me alone, my loves.

And yet, they have, haven’t they?

An hour, or perhaps two, goes by with me too inside my head again, thankfully interspersed with occasional shivers of pleasure, with the pain in my shoulders from having my arms too long overhead, and with memories of that moment when my lovely Master Séverin said that he loved me. Although I cannot imagine he would say such a thing only to fuck with my head, I have no way of knowing for certain. And of course, I can’t stop thinking about it, wondering what his intentions were, as if my obsessive overthinking will clarify anything. I never know the inside of my Master’s or Mistress’s minds. But I truly can’t stop my mind from turning it over and over, from my own thoughts torturing me in a way no Master ever could.

I would sleep a bit, except that I am too preoccupied with their reasoning for doing this, for leaving me alone after my Master just told me he loves me.

But, of course they would. They are still the Masters, after all.

And suddenly I am angry. With them, perhaps, or maybe with my own helplessness. And then I begin to cry once more.

I am sobbing so hard that I’m coughing when they return, and Master Erek approaches to lean in and lick the tears from my cheek.

“Ah, yes. Such beautiful tears. You are so perfect for us, my crying Girl.”

He slips a finger straight into my cunt, and of course, despite everything that’s happened to me today, and also because of it, I am wet and slippery, needing him.

He begins to finger-fuck me, and need builds and builds, until I can barely hold back my panting breaths. And he leans in and kisses me, taking my mouth with his, his lovely, wet tongue diving in, swirling over mine. I kiss him back, desperately, urgently, and for a few moments I am too overwhelmed by his kiss to even come.

Master Séverin comes up beside him and kisses his cheek, then Master Erek turns his head to kiss his lover, their mouths coming together only inches from mine, so that I feel it more than see it. Then it’s Master Séverin kissing me, his mouth harsher than Master Erek’s. His tongue invades my mouth—there is no other way to describe it—and his mouth is sweet and strong and tasting of fresh mint. I can barely believe this is happening.

I am so turned on, my poor pussy aches with it. With Master Erek’s fingers fucking me harder and harder, my orgasm is relentlessly impending, and just when I begin to clench uncontrollably, he pulls them out.

“Ah-ah,” he says, then clicks his tongue and laughs.

His mirth is always so threatening, because I understand what is behind it: his pleasure at my pain and need. But I love it, even so.

I love him , even so. Or perhaps because of his mirth at his own cruelty. He is such a true sadist. How can I resist?

He leans in to bite my cheek, then my throat, and his sharp teeth pierce my skin.

Oh, yes.

“Need to fuck you, my Girl,” he says. “Yes, I am going to fuck you now.”

He straightens, then he wraps my legs around his waist, cradling my ass in his hands as most of my weight hangs from the leather cuffs. And in one sharp thrust, he is inside me, his thick cock buried deep.

“Ohh…”

I can’t help the moan. I truly can’t. He feels so good. He smells so good; like sex and come and clean skin.

He starts a slow thrusting motion, burying himself deep inside my body. And as my nipples go even harder in response, the evil little teeth on the clamps dig deeper, the weights pulling my tortured flesh with each movement of his hips. I need to come almost instantly, and I swallow hard, forcing it down, back inside my body, into those deep corners of my wet, pink flesh.

“Don’t you dare,” Master Séverin whispers from behind me on the bed.

He grab my hips to pull me back, closer to him, then he shifts his hands to spread my ass cheeks wide. Master Erek lifts me higher as Master Séverin’s cock plunges into my ass.

“Oh!”

Pleasure pierces me, all the way down to my bones. To my soul. And the two of them fuck me in a hard, sharp rhythm, the pace quickening as Master Séverin sinks his teeth into my shoulder, as he wraps a hand in my hair and pulls tight so that my head is leaning back, my cheek next to his.

His panting breaths gust by my ear and land hot on my cheek as he fucks my ass, as Master Erek’s cock slides in and out of my cunt. They work in tandem, filling me so completely, then pulling out, then filling me once more. My body is so full of cock, so full of need, I can barely breathe. Then Master Erek shoves his fingers into my mouth, and I suck as if my life depends on it.

When he begins to ram his fingers down my throat, my sight goes black, and I know I’ll pass out soon. But I am so dizzy with pleasure, with pleasing my Masters, with love, that nothing else matters.

As he chokes me out with his fingers down my throat, all I can think of is how I love them both. Madly. Desperately. Inevitably.