Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
“To be beaten.” Her voice caught in her throat.
“To be beaten what?”
“To be beaten, Sir.”
“Good. And not only do you deserve to be beaten, you deserve to be punished for your sins. Now. What do you deserve?”
“I deserve to be beaten, Sir,” she replied tremulously. “And to be punished for my sins.”
“That’s right,” Mark said, nodding approvingly. “And the way you are to be punished is up to me. Whatever I decree is what you deserve. Understand, cunt girl?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her eyes were round with fear.
His cock was swelling in his jeans, but he continued with the lesson. “Now, cunt, I am your Master. You must be willing to suffer for me. Who am I?”
“My Master, Sir.”
“And what are you willing to do for me, slave?”
“To suffer for you, Sir.”
“Yes. To suffer for me, with grace. I’ll teach you grace, cunt girl. And I will teach you what it is to suffer.”
Alana didn’t respond.
“Now, let’s start again.”
Over and over Mark drilled Alana in how he expected her to respond. After another thirty minutes or so of questions and answers he was satisfied.
“All right then, cunt girl, time to go back to the cage. I’m going to eat some lunch but I don’t expect you are hungry.”
“Please, Sir, I’m so hungry. Please, I did everything you said.”
“No. You aren’t hungry, cunt girl. Your Master says you aren’t hungry.”
She whimpered but said nothing.
“Now, are you hungry, cunt?” Mark prodded.
“No, Sir,” Alana whispered faintly, tears welling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.
“No, I didn’t think so.” He fingered the scratches Alana had made on his face that morning. She seemed to understand his silent rebuke. He stood up, lifting the girl in his arms and gently setting her on her feet. He gestured for her to kneel on the ground next to the couch.
“Since you have yet to prove that you are more than an animal—an animal that scratches and bites—I’m going to treat you like an animal for a while longer. Wait there by the couch and don’t move.”
She knelt obediently, fear etched onto her pretty face.
Mark went over to a large chest in the corner of the room. Whips, riding crops, collars, leashes and various other toys were stowed inside. Mark pulled out a heavy collar of black iron with a single ring hanging in the front. He also removed a long leash made of thick metal links. Returning to Alana, he set the implements down next to her.
“Lift your hair,” he instructed her. Alana lifted her heavy mane of dark hair, baring her long, slender neck, and the graceful gesture took his breath away.
He attached the heavy collar around her neck. He liked the way it hung on her chest, the ring sitting just above the rounded swell of her breasts.
“This is your animal collar, cunt girl. I’ll remove it when you stop acting like an animal. Till then it remains. Here is your leash.” He attached it to the ring on the center of the collar and jerked her upward. “Get on your feet.”
Once she was upright, he led her by the leash back into the bedroom and toward the closet. “You’re going back in the cage.”
“Oh, please,” she begged, pulling back. “Not the cage. Please, Sir. Please, I’m begging you.”
“Disobedient animals belong in cages, Alana.” He jerked her forward. “Are you refusing your Master’s direct command?” Mark lifted his eyebrows, daring her to defy him.
Alana bit her lower lip. “No, Sir,” she whispered.
“All right then.” He removed the leash and forced her to her knees. Pointing to the open door of the cage, he ordered, “Crawl in. If you take your punishment with submissive grace, I might let you eat something later. Meanwhile, get some rest if you can. I have lots of fun things planned.”
After she crawled into the small space and curled up on its floor, Mark padlocked the door and left the closet, closing the doors behind him.
Chapter 4
Hungry. Thirsty. So thirsty. Throat hurts, eyes sting. Every muscle aches. Exhausted. What was I thinking, trying to fight him? He’s much bigger, much stronger. He has a gun. He holds all the cards. I was stupid to resist. I need to pretend. I’m an actress. I can act. I can behave as if I’m buying into his total insanity. I can submit.
Alana opened her eyes wide, trying to see something in the dark closet. She focused on the line of light showing beneath the doors. Was he out there, waiting? Would he let her out soon? Should she call out, pretend to be contrite, apologize and promise to be a good girl?
She opened her mouth, but no sound would come. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t beg. He could fuck himself.
Mark lay on the bed. Alana had looked so miserable and terrified as he’d forced her back into the cage. He scanned his memory for any discussion in the many blogs and fan sites of her having a fear of small spaces, but there had been no mention—he would have remembered.