He motioned her onto the bed and arranged her on her back, half upright against the
pillows. “Someone wrote to me a few days before I was due to come here. They warned me
about your thefts and I was able to arrive in time to prevent them.” He laughed and slid
the chain through a ring on the headboard, then through the one at the back of Amelia’s
collar. “I don’t think it beyond the bounds of possibility that you did it just so you
could have your wanton desires fulfilled.” He joined the ends of the chain together and
Amelia felt their cool links slide down between her shoulder blades.
“N…no,” she protested with a quiver running through her sheath. “No. I don’t even know
you, Victor. I wouldn’t do such a thing. I don’t want…”
“Yes you do. You’re getting excited now because I’ve chained you to the bed.”
Amelia looked away from his near-black eyes, so like her own. It was true.
“And it’s totally delightful, my raven-haired beauty.” He laughed with pleasure and
sprawled across the foot of the bed, his penis lying slackly on his thigh and his gaze
taking in her nudity. “Bend your knees and spread your legs.”
Amelia looked at him from beneath lowered eyelashes. Her belly was leaping
uncontrollably and every nerve in her body was strung tight. She had thought the previous
night, with Jane beside her, was horribly intimate. This one was doubly so.
“If you want me to overlook you addressing me by name instead of as ‘Master’, you will
obey,” Victor said, softly menacing. Amelia jumped as she heard the faint crack of
something striking flesh and a distant cry that might have been Jane’s penetrated the
silence of the room. She raised her knees until her feet were flat on the mattress and
parted her thighs.
Victor’s eyes glittered. “Play with yourself.”
“Nooo!” Amelia wailed in cringing embarrassment. “Please don’t make me.”
He leapt towards her and she cowered, all thoughts of refusal banished. “Hands up.”
Amelia reached her hands to the back of her collar. “Who is your master?”
“You. Oh, you!” She squirmed as his left hand lifted her right breast.
“Then that is what you call me, slave girl!” He smacked his palm down on her fleshy
teat, stinging the hard point of her nipple and the half-healed weals left by Judith’s
switch. Too fearful to use her hands to protect herself or even twist away from his
blows, Amelia sobbed her way through five more hard slaps to her breast. Victor sat back
and lifted her chin until she was looking into his eyes. “You can obey me at once,” he
said icily. “Or you can be disciplined first and then forced to obey me.”
“I will obey, Master,” Amelia said tearfully. “I will, I promise.”
He stared deep into her eyes, and to Amelia’s dismay the chill of fear along her spine
was joined by a thrill of excitement in her sex. She watched warily as he rose and took
something wrapped in a cloth from the drawer by the bed. Her belly tightened. It was not
a cloth. It was a handkerchief. She knew at once that it was hers and what it was
wrapped around.
“Let’s see if this makes you more amenable to my instructions.” Victor laid the ivory
dildo on the sheet between Amelia’s feet. Her sex had begun tingling the instant she
recognised it, responding as it always did to the presence of her toy. Moisture bathed
her sex and it rippled suddenly.
“Pick it up,” Victor invited, smiling wickedly as he lay on the bottom of the bed and
propped his chin on his hand.
Amelia did not want to. He was watching her with such intensity. He could see
everything - the languorous half-closing of her eyes as her tongue slid wetly over her
rouged lips, the rise and fall of her breasts with their erect nipples beginning to pulse,
the hairless pout of her pussy quivering with a new eagerness between her gently trembling
thighs. And she could do nothing to prevent any of it. Amelia stretched out her hand.
The collar jerked around her neck as the chain went taut. Victor laughed again as her
hand strained towards her toy and fell short.
“Not yet, my disobedient, little bunny. “Fingers first. You must earn your reward.”
The sudden burning in Amelia’s cheeks could have been a blush of shame or excitement. It
no longer mattered. She still hated Victor, she still felt her guilt, her despair, her
aching longing for Jonathan to come and save her. All were trivial, meaningless compared
to her irresistible, driving hunger for pleasure and the fulfilment of orgasm. She dived
her hand into her sex.
“Just your middle finger,” Victor ordered. “And close the rest so I can see properly.”
Amelia did not demur. She would do anything that meant she could have the beautiful
phallus filling her pussy. She shivered in delight as she slipped her finger between her
outer labia and began masturbating. Her humiliation at Victor’s amused chuckle only added
to the mounting heat of arousal spreading from low in her belly to every nerve and fibre
in her body. The tiny kernel of rational thought left in her mind slipped away as she
watched Victor’s penis expanding and revelled in her power to ignite his desires.
Teasing the delicate folds at the apex of her slit, she felt her little bud stiffening
under her finger and moved her other hand to stroke the moist, fluttering opening below.
It felt delicious. A flow of juices bathed her busy finger and she looked longingly from
her phallus to Victor’s rigid cock, and groaned. Panting hard, she revelled in the weight
of her aching breasts on her arms as she rubbed and chafed between her thighs and felt the
nature of the pain in her buttocks change as it melded with her pleasure.
The faintest spark of logic scorned her for her surrender, but a far more compelling fire
in blood and belly spurred her on as Victor scooped up the dildo and lay with his face
almost touching her sex. She felt the furnace heat on her thighs as Victor pushed her
hands away and spread her pussy. Amelia watched with heavy-lidded eyes, whimpering her
need at the feel of Victor’s fingers on the wet, swollen petals of her inner lips, knowing
he was gazing into the dark, velvety depths of her quivering sheath.
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