He circles my neck in the collar and attaches it. There is a leash that jingles as he tugs it.
"Down on the floor,” he orders. “On your knees."
I feel the snug leather against my throat. The symbolism is overpowering. The collar has been placed on me. It will stay there until Brian wants it off. Unless I feel like fighting him again.
It's a pet collar. The leash re-enforces the point. He intends to treat me as an animal.
I'm having a hard time moving. I try and get up on my knees. How am I supposed to do this? I look at him, gagged, pitiful.
"Does the slave girl need help obeying Master?"
I nod, trapped for the moment on my side.
He chuckles. He's going to help me all right, but not in the way I imagined.
"Obey me,” he levels the belt at my hip. “Find a way."
I squirm and squeal, irrationally trying to cover myself. That isn't going to work. The blows sting my flesh, my ass, my back, and the backs of my thighs. He won't let up.
There's only one thing to do. I crawl forward, head first over the edge of the bed. He lets me fall. He doesn't help me to get up on my knees, he does nothing but continue to punish me.
"Legs spread,” he lashes the top of my thigh.
I spread widely.
"Back arched."
I scream into the gag as he whips my breasts. I glare at him in hate and fury.
"You need a lot of work,” he says.
That's it. That's all I get for all that work?
He lifts the leash and pulls me toward the bathroom, “Keep up, slut."
I burn the hell out of my knees. Not a pleasant glow, but total fucking agony.
The tile in the bathroom is actually a relief, hard as it is.
Brian takes out the gag.
I work my jaw, trying to get out the soreness. “May I have some water?"
"Beg for it, like the slut you are."
You total prick! I don't say this out loud, there's no telling what he'd do to me.
"You want a privilege, Caroline, you have to beg for it, the way I want you to."
My lower lip slides between my teeth. I am so hot and ready. Why won't he take me? He has that hard cock to play with.
Then I remember he's a Master, of the sadistic variety. It's not about the climax alone. There is oh so much in between. “Master, may I have some water? Your … slut … begs you."
He half fills a glass on the counter.
I gulp it down. “More?"
"No, you'll get yourself sick. Besides I want you to be good and thirsty for my piss."
My look of pure trepidation induces more laughter. “Don't worry, girl, I won't make you drink it, I'm just kidding. I'd advise you to keep that pretty mouth of yours shut tight, though. I know it will be a challenge."
My eyes narrow.
"I don't hear a thank you. What kind of Daddy's girl are you?"
"The kind who's going to kick your ass when this is all over,” I can't resist.
"What was that?” he pulls my leash, digging it under my chin.
"T-thank you…"
"Thank you, Master, you mean."
"Thank you … Sir."
"There's a good sport.” He winks. “Go hop in the tub, sweetie, there's a dear."
He makes me crouch down, holding up my breasts for him to piss on.
He stands outside the tub, taking his aim. The plug is in, so the urine won't go down the drain. The really crappy thing is I need to go, too.
Brian makes a ritual out of it. He rubs himself over my cheeks, makes me kiss the tip.
I taste the salt…
"Too bad Monica isn't here,” he says. “I bet she would enjoy watching this happen to the woman who's fucking her husband."
"It's not like that,” I insist.
I close my mouth just in time. The spray hits my lips, like a fire hose. I sputter. He takes aim at my eyes, my hair.
"Hold the tits higher."
Not my tits … the tits.
The golden curtain cascades over my bosom, trickling down my belly. I have piss between my legs, piss on my feet, piss in my eyebrows, piss in my ears.
A man's piss.
I'm soaked, shamed, exhilarated. Collared and leashed, totally used.
"Sleek wet little bitch…” He licks his lips and starts stroking.
His eyes are on me, scanning, part to part, indifferent to my personhood.
I might as well be a jpeg.
God, I want that cock, why is he wasting that erection?
But it's not a waste; he's doing what he wants with it. His cock, his game … my tough luck.
Anyway, who wants sex with a girl glistening in urine? I stink, the piss has soaked me and it's already starting to dry.
"Open up wide,” he orders.
It's another bodily fluid he has for me and this time my mouth is the target. One of the targets.
I'm dumbfounded how thick the jets are. This is the fourth time with me today. He's like his father … in this way at least.
No one ever lusted after me like Thomas. I was like his first crush, his college sweetheart and the prostitute he picked up down the lane on a daily basis. You'd think there were no other women but me, like I was every female rolled into one.
And this from a married man-omigod, I am so not the other woman-so not a piece on the side, except when we both want it to be that.
He just has the gift. To give women what they need. Monica couldn't endure him as a sexual animal, couldn't take him as Daddy, or mentor.
He is just Mr. Fix it.
"Brian, where are you going?!"
He's at the door, he is finished pissing and ejaculating and now he's going to close the light on me.
"Cigarette."
"You can't leave me!"
"You're not really in a condition to go outside."
"Let me clean up."
"I am not quite done with you this way, I'm afraid."
"Well you can't leave me like this.” I wriggle to my feet, using my cuffed hands along the wall of the tub.
"I can do what I want with you, Caroline. That's the deal. Unless…"
"Stop rubbing the word under my nose! I know about the fucking word. I'll use it when I want to."
"Suit yourself."
"Brian, wait."
"What?"
My heart is thumping. What to say?
"Will you be long?” I ask meekly.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I'm not this kind of female…
"I might bring back take out, I don't know.” He chuckles. “You don't mind if I borrow the car, do you, slave girl? Seriously, I won't be too long. Burger World's just across the street."
I can't laugh. I have no emotion left. That last outburst has drained me.
"Yes, Master,” I whisper, the urine in puddles around my feet.
He shuts the lights off.
I try to figure out what the hell just happened.
And why I am hornier than I have ever been in my whole entire life.
* * * *
"You trade one addiction for another."
That's how Thomas sums up the Alcoholic's meetings. That's not the official philosophy, and he's careful to tell me that.
"You have to have the higher power, you have to follow your steps, but sooner or later it comes down to deciding what you're going to use in your life to keep the beast at bay. All of us have it. You can fill it with sex or power, drugs or alcohol."
Or you can fill it with Daddy.
The night he told me about BDSM I was so freaking fascinated, so totally into his explanations, his unique take on things. He could have been into anything, fishing, macrame and it would have seemed sexy, but the way he talked about what it meant for him to be a Master. What it meant to get a woman to trust him, to bare her soul, to bare her body.
"It's in the mind,” he said. “You can be intimate without paddles and cuffs, but to be intimate with them, to really do it in a consensual way, that is the ultimate rush."
His drug, I suppose.
So naturally, it became mine. Daddy's baby girl. Slave slut, little princess no panties.
He wouldn't ever put a collar on me. I wanted to try it.