Behind the Masks

[Veroe]

((Closed for Myself and Sinful_Whispers))​

IC: Tristan Clark

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Tristan struggled against the handcuffs binding his hands behind his back to the pole embedded into the floor. He had been looking into what had happened to Jose's niece. Jose had been a good friend of his that had dragged him out of Kandahar over his back. He was a good man that had to smuggle his niece, Maria, into the country. The only thing was that she hadn't shown up.

Since Jose was stuck in a VA hospital, Tristan had put it on himself to find out what had happened to Maria. He had spent three weeks tracing her through the smuggling ring to the human trafficking cartel to a mansion in the middle of absolute nowhere.

The last thing he remembered was hiking through the woods behind the mansion trying to sneak past the ominous number of tuxedoed sentries packing submachine guns to look inside for her. Then a dart from dart gun had embedded into his neck and he fell over. The next thing he knew he was here his fatigues gone and wearing a tuxedo and a ball gag.

He glanced around the room he was kept within. It was a room in some sort of large and opulent mansion. The walls were decorated with red and gold French baroque design, the floors were elaborate Marble. Across from him was a great window looking over the forest he had approached from at night, which was disconcerting since when he was shot nightfall was several hours away.

Before him was velvet rope that barred off the area of the room taken up with the dais he stood upon. The rest was a solid wooden pole that felt carved elaborately underneath his hands. He strained again to break free of the handcuffs bound to the pole. His ankles were chained to the bottom as well.

The drug from the dart must've knocked him out for a long time. His struggles increased. Just a little more and he could squeeze his hand through the cuff. He was not going to let these bastards sell him off.

Men wearing uniforms that looked like servants and footmen from the revolutionary war era complete with wigs and frilly sleeves, but these wore solid, featureless, black masks under their white wigs. Tristan glared at them. By the way they moved he could tell these weren't costumed clowns, these were seriously bad dudes. One had a tattoo on the back of his hand he recognized from a Russian prison.

One released the velvet rope as the other bowed as two women entered wearing formal ball gowns and carnival masks.

"...This one is a brand new acquisition," One said to the other. The guard holding the velvet rope bowed holding out a hand to help both ladies step up on Tristan's dais. "He has received absolutely no preparation what so ever..."

He glared daggers at both of them as the approached him.

"...As you can see he still has a tremendous amount of fighting spirit within him..." The saleswoman said to the other, "...Why we'd recommend only the most skilled master or mistress to take on the challenge this slave would represent."

"Master! Mistress! Slave!!!!" To hell with that. He pulled growling around the gag staring down at the woman that the saleswoman was trying to sell him to. She had some pretty eyes...too bad he couldn't see the rest of her face underneath that mask...and too bad she was a sick twisted bitch considering buying people in a human trafficking operation.

"...Would you appreciate a closer inspection..."

The woman nodded, the barest of gestures, and the sales woman reached up and undid his bowtie. Then with practiced swiftness she began unbuttoning his shirt down to his cummerbund. She finally spread his shirt wide baring his shirt to the woman's gaze.

"...As you'll note, despite the base crudity of the tattoo on his chest and down his arm this slave is exquisitely in shape...strong and quite appealing to the eye. Young and virile too..."

He shook and growled a low rumble as the saleswoman ran her hands over his chest down to his abs and lower.

"...Would you care to touch it yourself?"

He pulled on the cuffs one more time. Finally his hand slipped loose of the cuff. He grabbed the saleswoman and shoved her off the dais and into the Russian footman. He pulled out the ball gag. The woman that was going to buy him just stood there.

Seeing the gaurds coming onto the dais now his hand shot out, fingers clamping around the woman's throat.

"Let me go or I'll crush the bitch's windpipe right here."

He looked into the woman's eyes. They were the only thing he could see of her. She had deep eyes...like the ocean...a man could get lost in those eyes.

She spoke, a simple sentence of a few words, but a command of unyielding steel. Maybe he was still wary from the tranquilizer but at that command his hand lifted.

The gaurds were on him in the next heartbeat. The Saleswoman was back up and reaching back in her bag pulling out a hyperdermic needle. "Apologies, my lady, but to prevent any more such outbursts this one will have to be sedated through the auction."

The gaurds pulled out his arm pushing up his sleeve for the needle. Tristan wrestled and struggled mightily but was unable to break free of their hold as the saleswoman calmly walked up and sunk the needle's tip into a vein of his arm.

"No," He cried out glaring up at the woman who looked down upon him like a bug under her boot.

A few minutes later the world became blurring and fading into black. Yet his never left her even as the light went out behind them.

 

[Sinful_whispers]

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Clarissa held the invitation between her long slender fingers reading it once again. 'Find a mask and wear it well so your true identity no one can tell', was printed on the front and on the back it was signed Lord and Master Jerome Buchanan with the time and place.

This was her type of masquerade ball, not only because she lived her life behind a full mask but it had been two years and four auctions that she's attended and had found nothing that caught her fancy. Clarissa had no idea why this one would be any different, but she was going to at least make an appearance.

The functions in this specific group of friends and acquaintances was secret. Everything was held behind closed doors twice a year and only a list of 50-75 were invited to attend, only those that had money to spend. Only those that were involved in the BDSM community. Each gathering had a theme, each had an auction. Not like a normal auction of items per say but of humans, those that will be turned into their owners property. Willing males and females of all ages ranging anywhere from eighteen years old and up.

The past two years the subs and slaves had nothing special about them, willing puppies she called them, none that had fire and fight, ones that would challenge their Masters and Mistresses. That was fine for those that loved a 'kick me toy' but Clarissa wanted more.

Clarissa sat before her vanity mirror looking over her smooth light olive skin, her eyes an Autumn brown and sighed softly. It wasn't that she looked her age by far, most women in their early 40's would have loved to have her tight smooch skin and build, 38,24,34. The truth be told, it was more the fact of being alone for so long. marriage wasn't even a thought, she had traveled that road a long time back which proved to be very rocky and very abusive, yet profitable...for her.

Money she found was all she needed, she loved control and power no thanks to the trail of men left in her past. They hadn't realized the woman she was today was ever capable within her and without their knowledge she had the sweetest revenge, she had it all. Investing wisely and dabbling in everything made her a billionaire. A name change of her choice, hair color change from blonde to brunette, colored contacts, a grueling exercise routine and she transformed into a woman none of them would recognize, not even her own family.

The thought of her past cause her stomach to turn, so quickly Clarissa put those in her past behind that locked door she closed over fifteen years ago. She knew better than to dwell on the past, though she did like the adrenalin rush it cause within her, almost close to an orgasmic feeling. She fed off of pain to a certain degree, her own and others. Those she now acquainted with would never accept her if they knew her past, so for that it remained locked away and she wore a mask every day from that point on.

Red lipstick was applier on her thin lips, brown contacts over her Caribbean blue eyes. A black eyeliner to accentuate her long lashes was applied very tastefully and a half black lace mask with red ruby gems and feathery headpiece covered part of her face and her long auburn brown tress. Clarissa was pleased with her look so far. She stood and walked over to the full length mirror, standing there in a black garter and matching hose, black lace panties and she reached for the long black formal gown picked just for this occasion.

She stepped into it, and reached back zipping it up her back, a part of her body that held so many imperfections, red scars covered it. The scars on the outside were far from the deep, deep scars within her. Ones that only showed when the mood strikes her fancy and her power and control come out on another.

Her size seven feet slipped into a five inch heeled black patent pumps, and she admired herself and was pleased with the look. her appearance was a woman of class and elegance, one could easily tell she had money, if not in looks they would know when she conversed.

The silver Rolls Royce Phantom awaited her outside in the drive before the stairs. The chauffer stood along side the door waiting for her. Clarissa grabbed the black clutch, her black mink stole, draped it over her shoulders and left her night begin.

~~~~~~~~~



They pulled up before the mansion, one she was at a handful of times, Clarissa was escorted by a young man in black dress pants and a mask, nothing more than his black socks and dress shoes. Once inside her stole was taken and she began to make small talk with the others. Each guest dressed in black tie and ball gowns, masks were nothing less than fancy even for the men.

Not even thirty minutes into the ball Clarissa was whispered to by another guest, she responded in a nod and was escorted out the door and down a hallway through another door where the walls were decorated with red and gold French baroque. There was another female guest on the man's other arm. None spoke, they just walked quietly as her steel tipped stilettos tapped across the marble floor. There, he released her arm from his and stood there letting her walk the room as did the other Mistress. She looked and to the right were females, most standing freely, so willing to please, so eager to be punished and taught the ways of the community.

On the left she turned following along the velvet rope, males of all shapes, sizes and ages looking back to her as her eyes gave them a quick once over. like the females, some eager to step into the role of sub, to serve their owner whether it be male or female. They bored her, she sucked in a breath nice and slowly and as she left it out as she stood looking at one tattooed male, cuffed and very unhappy looking. The guard unclipped the rope allowing Clarissa to step closer and just as she did, the other woman appeared aside her joining her.

Clarissa stood there, her shoulders back, her back perfectly straight and couldn't take her eyes away from him. The fire within his eyes, the way his muscles grew taunt under his clothing tightening it up. She listened as she was told the information about him, that was when he growled out "Master! Mistress! Slave!"

A slight grin appeared up Clarissa's face as he showed him fire.

"...Would you appreciate a closer inspection..." Clarissa was asked and nodded.

Clarissa watched intently as the woman began to undress the man. A feeling of excitement was felt within her as his shirt was slowly parted and his chest was bared, exposing a tattoo, which only to her enhanced his body. Clarissa nodded in agreement, he was strong and appealing. She reached forth following the woman's own fingertips and touched his warm flesh, her eyes lifted to his as she did. She didn't fear this man, in fact he had been the one she was waiting for, for a very long time.

before anyone knew what was about to take place Clarissa felt her back against the males chest, his arm wrapped around her throat and squeezing tightly. Clarissa made no sound, she stood there, no fear shown to him or anyone. They looked within each other's eyes and she drifted away, if felt like two lost souls brought together as one. Clarissa whispered to him, only he could hear her soft demanding voice..."go ahead,I have no fear of you.."

It was then she felt his arm release, and turned to watch his body fall to the floor at her feet. She watched as he struggled, as the needles poked his flesh and he went limp. There was chatter that perhaps he was not ready to be sold, to be broke and handled but Clarissa wanted him.

"I want him at no cost." Clarissa stated. Her voice was soft yet demanding. "I will outbid anyone for him!" Her nipples grew hard and pressed against the cool silkiness of the dress, the crotch of her panties grew moist at the thought of him being owned by her...yes he was the one.

"Yes Misstress Dumas" the guard replied. I will inform the auctioneer."

The night came to an end, the man was sedated heavily and taken to her car, from there she sat aside him, his wrists cuffed, his ankles shackled as she reached over and ran her fingertips along his tight jaw, down along his exposed chest. The car stopped before her mansion, out in a secluded area settled on ninety acres with a wall and gates closing it off from all to peer at.

He was lifted and carried inside, to a room that was mainly, black, silver and white. it was fully furnished with nothing but the best. there he was stripped and placed upon the bed, re cuffed and shackled. Clarissa dismissed the two men from the room, she admired every inch of his chiseled body, as she smiled looking at the length of his flaccid cock.

Clarissa turned and walked out, the large mahogany doors closed and locked, the windows were barred so he had no way to escape. She returned to her bedroom and stripped, poured a glass of wine , sipped it , placed it aside and laid down upon her silky sheets letting sleep find her and the stranger in the room next door danced within her dreams.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Tristan Clark

Groggily Tristan awoke to find himself in a strange room chained to a bed...Oh and stark naked, and chained to a bed, and within a strange room. Reflexively he pulled on the chains straining his muscles, but unsurprisingly the chains didn't break. There was a moment of panic like a caged and cornered animal. He had no idea where he was or who had bought him or what they intended to do to him. Anyone willing to stoop to patronizing in human trafficking couldn't intend any pleasant activities for him. His broad chest rose and fell rapidly as he tugged on the chains frantic to break free, but these were secured much better than at the mansion. Several minutes passed with him pulling on the chains to no avail. It only left him exhausted and still bound to the bed, buck naked, and in a strange room.

He lay there breathing in wracked in self-recrimination. Why hadn't he told anyone where he was going? Why didn't he have a friend or some other significant other that would notice him missing for weeks on end? No one would look for him, and he hadn't left any clue where he was going for them to follow anyway.

So for several more minutes he lay still (not that being chained to the bed gave him any choice in the matter) getting his breathing, and racing heart, and much more importantly his panicked mind under control.

Though he had been drummed out of the corps Tristan still had the training of a scout recon marine. This situation was no different he told himself. He was a prisoner to the enemy now. Seen in that light his training told him to lay low, compliant, conserve his strength and wait for an opportunity to come. It would eventually come, whomever his captors were if he lay low long enough they'd eventually get complacent and that was when he'd make his move. The only questions that was left unanswered was: where was he, what did whomever that bought him want with him, and just who it was that actually bought him.

Why did the woman with those deep brown eyes back at the mansion come to his mind? She hadn't flinched or made a single sound when his hand had closed over her throat. He'd give the woman this: she had a huge set of balls on her to do that.

He ran her words over in his mind: "Go ahead, I have no fear of you.." Her voice had been firm, unyielding, so in control...he found himself wondering just who she was and how she had come to buying people like antique furniture.

He pushed his thoughts about her to one side. Tristan needed to focus on the mission. He glanced around the room. The room was dark. Black walls with white trim and silver sconces giving a soft light in the room. Dark mahogany dresser and a wardrobe with silver handles on the drawers. Above the dresser was a silver mirror and the reflection of his naked body staring back at him. On the other wall was a window. He craned his neck to look out it. From the this angle he could only see out of the corner of the window, but what he saw was a grill of bars on the other side of glass.

That wouldn't be an escape route.

Past the glass he could see the sky brightening...dawn...it was morning...he'd been out for several more hours. That was good. Another piece of information. That was what he needed. Keep his head down, his eyes and ears open. Every little bit of information was one more tool to use in his escape.

Idly he wondered if this had been the same fate Maria had endured. What were the odds she was bought by the same twisted bastard that had bought him. Once he freed himself he'd be more careful and get her and all the rest of those like her out of this hell.

Time passed. There was no clock in the room. Tristan had no way of knowing how much time was passing. All he had was the creeping light of the sun through the window. As the sunlight streaming through the window crept down the wall to about midway the door opened, and Tristan saw the woman he had just come close to strangling the night before strode into the room.

Why did he feel a little relieved at seeing it was her?

She stood looking down over his bound naked body, and he stared back at her. Minutes passed, and no words were exchanged between them. Their eyes met. there was a tug-of-war between them, her deep brown and his cool blue.

Finally the silence was broken, "So how much did you pay for me?"

The tone of his voice carried another message, "You've only just begun paying for me."

 

[Sinful_whispers]

The mansion would look out of place if it could be seen by others from the road, but it was hidden behind high stone walls and a gate, a mile long dive way and lush green gardens surrounded the front. It was a French Provincial style home, 5 bedrooms and 5.5 bathrooms on the second floor. One of which her newest prize possession, yes possession was now sleeping. The guest house was close by(yet far enough for privacy of the main house) which was a bit smaller consisted of 5 smaller apartments where the help occupied.

Clarissa's help consisted of a driver, housekeeper, and a gardener. A cook wasn't needed for she enjoyed doing that her self. Which left two units currently unoccupied. There was also a pool, cabana, tennis court, orchards along the wooded tree line, and a greenhouse that she had converted into a gym and art studio. The small mansion also had balconies and a large terrace off the back. In total the house was more than she needed but the location was exactly what she was looking for.

The help knew what lifestyle the 'mistress' of the mansion led, they were with her for over three years and kept her private life just that. She may have been a bitch to work for more times than not but the pay was worth it. They were loyal and that was something Clarissa found hard to find within another human being. Her walls were up, she kept herself guarded from most around her if not everyone.

Her eyes fluttered open to greet the new day as the sun shined through the thin white sheers, she could feel it upon her bare flesh as she untangled herself from the silky sheets. The help had the day off today, yet stayed on call if she needed them, especially the driver. She could drive herself if needed and usually did on Sundays as she enjoyed getting behind the wheel of her sports car and taking it out for a ride along the back roads near the Oceanside cliffs. her love for the ocean went deep, the sound of the waves crashing was something she found soothing.

Getting out of bed, she stretched and wondered how her new toy found his first night. A big part of her didn't care if he slept well or not and the smaller part had hoped he did. Clarissa would check on him in a little bit, she had hoped he wasn't going to be so defiant that she couldn't handle him. She knew she would have to add a collar before she released him from his cuffs and shackles this morning so he could shower and eat. It would be up to him how his first day would be, she expected some resistance, actually she expected a lot plus an attitude to match his disposition.

Clarissa used the bathroom, washed her face, brushed her auburn tress, letting the long slightly curled tendrils cascade down her back and over her shoulders. She needed no make-up, and sashayed back into her bedroom where she slipped into a white silk thong and matching long sheer chiffon white peignoir with a white fluffy chandelle trim. The front was open, one tie was hidden within the feathery at the top leaving very little left to the imagination. The bedroom heel of choice was a four inch clear heeled slipper with a fluffy white fur strap over her toes. Her breasts swayed freely under the sheer material with each movement her body made. Clarissa loved how her nipples grew hard as they rubbed against the material, the way the material moved over her erect nipples, sometimes enough that her breasts were fully exposed depending how the material draped over her body.

The thought of her stranger excited her, but she wasn't going to act on him today, today was a test day to see how he would be as her pet, her toy...her object of pleasure to serve her wishes no matter what they were. Surprisingly she wanted to more about him, she had a gut feeling he was out of his element in the lifestyle but she could be wrong, he could be just unruly.

Opening her double antique mahogany wood wardrobe armoire she had bought while visiting Milan she carefully chose a beginners collar. Usually it would be something very simple with a small lock, perhaps black leather, or one made our of silver...gold...with just a O ring to hook a leash to. today she knew she needed something more, something which would allow her to handle him. With her help off duty she had no males if things got out of hand.

The collar she picked was a modified dog shock collar. One that was hand made for her, which came with a remote she held in her hand that administered enough of an electrical current that would put a man on his knees. The shock felt like being pricked with many tiny needles. Increasing the power keeps the same subjective sensation, but increases the intensity of the pain (almost like being pricked with many burning needles). Shock collars can be surprisingly effective and she knew all about that. Clarissa's knowledge came from more than just personally using it on another. For something that can cause so much pain, the shocks rarely leave any evidence. If the electrodes are blunt, you rarely see any marks after removing the collar...even after the most intense pain. This collar and using it was almost like a license for any owner/trainer to be as sadistic as he or she liked.

Clarissa knew if this didn't work there was also the electrified bit gag, electrified cock ring or even a modified shocking butt plug as back ups. If neither of the four worked, the last resort was the electrified urethra rod. Cock stuffing, or 'sounding" was what it as called in the S&M community. Only this rod was modified mainly for training.

She picked a small silver lock and held it in her hand along with the collar. This was going to be a struggle but she was up for the fight. Clarissa headed out of her room and opened the large mahogany doors to his, she left them open and stood there for a moment seeing is he was awake. he was, as their eyes met, starring at one another for a moment before she walked closer. Her sheer see-through peignoir opening as she stepped, exposing the small silky white patch covering her shaven mound and swaying perky breasts. then as she came to a halt, the material once again rested over her breasts.

His eyes were a beautiful deep blue steel, she could see a hint of gray within them. This morning her eyes matched his, blue like the ocean , no longer autumn brown. he spoke first, and she cocked a brow listening to him speak, his voice deep and filled with anger and attitude.

"Anywhere from a single dollar to perhaps 1.2 million, that isn't important." Clarissa responded. "I will allow you to speak freely this morning, after that to only speak when spoken to. Understood?" her eyes turned cold and she looked into his and the collar dangled from her fingertips.

"I shall give you the option of either being unruly and staying cuffed and shackled or allowing me to place this collar on without a problem. If you wish to move within this house freely along side me I would choose the collar. If you get out if line you will know it by the shock I will administer. Which do you choose?" She asked as she stood close yet far enough he couldn't grab her showing him his choice of collar. the first morning is the beginning of the training, to learn about each other what he can endure, how his mind thinks as well as what his disposition. Clarissa allowed choices...now and then...at first after that it was her call 100%. When she spoke she was stern and direct, her voice as well as her body language showed no fear of him.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Tristan Clark

They looked at each other for a long moment

She certainly dressed to impress. She wore a gauzy transparent lingerie that draped down to the floor in old-school trim that was the only barrier to his eyes. Add to that a tiny little white thong and transparent heels and the picture of a lady of class and elegance not afraid to flaunt her assets in the slightest was brought home.

Tristan's eyes were drawn to her bustline. There the top was covered. if you could call it covered-more like the feathers teasingly obscured her breasts to his gaze. All he could see was the swell of the bottom-he judged her a C-cup-all the way up to the bottom of her areola and the brief rise of a nipple then feathers. He could see the feathers bounce as her breasts rose and fell with her every breath make a tiny but enthralling tantalizing game for him to complete his incomplete picture of her breasts.

Beneath her breasts her torso tapered down revealing a thin waist and flat stomach dimpled to the right degree to showcase her abs. They weren't defined just hinted at showing she was a woman who wasn't afraid of a few crunches, but knew the exact point to leave them balancing strength and soft feminity to a masterful degree. Likewise her legs were long but shaped and toned but not to the point of distraction. No, this was a woman who enjoyed working out as much as he did but was disciplined enough to control it to get exactly the shape she wanted and nothing more.

A woman after his own heart, in that way. Under different circumstances-

No, he was her prisoner. Best not to get too attracted to his captor. She hadn't even spoken more than one sentence to him and here he was already falling under Stockholm syndrome. He had to keep reminding himself that this beautiful woman was his enemy.

To distract himself he looked back up to her face another well-manicured image of perfection. Lips, kissably soft, cute little dimples and laugh-lines that was the only outward sign of her age-anywhere between six to ten years older than him-and subtly masked with an artful application of makeup.

Finally the silence was broken, "So how much did you pay for me?"

The tone of his voice carried another message, "You've only just begun paying for me."

She didn't respond, only turned and he watched her shapely ass-a woman who didn't mind squats either-as she strutted over to the armoire and opened the doors wide. Tristan's eyes widened as he saw what was inside. Instead of a variety of coats and shirts and trousers. Inside was all manner of things. There were chains, whips, paddles, crops, dildoes, strap-on harnesses, clamps, and some things even a bawdy old marine like him didn't recognize.

So that answered the question of what she wanted of him. He fought an urge to struggle against his chains again and remain lying on the bed calm, compliant, and deceptive. He breathed: in and out. His chest rose stretching the array of well-developed muscles. He swallowed to moisten a throat suddenly dried as she turned back around holding what looked like one of those dog collars designed to keep them from chasing cars into the street.

She finally spoke answering his question, "Anywhere from a single dollar to perhaps 1.2 million, that isn't important."

"On the contrary," He said his eyes not leaving that collar. She was going to put that on him. Was she going to turn it on? Watch him squirm under the electrical jolt it gave him? How much of a sadistic bitch was this woman? "It's not often a man knows the value of his body to the dollar. Imagine their faces when I tell people this is a million dollar body."

He was mocking her. Not a wise tactical decision given his position. He knew it, but couldn't help it. Somehow she made him snappish. He'd probably pay for it, but it wouldn't be the first time his smart mouth got him into trouble-the officers at his court martial could attest to that-and it wouldn't be the last time it happened either. He answered to no man-and no woman-now that Uncle Sam had no use for him anymore.

"I will allow you to speak freely this morning," She said her eyes turning from deep pools of warmth to a frozen arctic shelf, "After that to only speak when spoken to. Understood?"

Such a thing galled him, but he nodded. Calm, quiet, compliant, watchful, and ultimately deadly-that was how he was going to have to play this.

She held out the dog-collar saying, "I shall give you the option of either being unruly and staying cuffed and shackled or allowing me to place this collar on without a problem."

Oh he had tons of problems with that and his jaw set at the thought of her having that much control over him. Just a button push and he'd be instantly sprawled out on the floor, but it would get him out of these chains. A prisoner could only claim the victories that they were given.

"I understand." He said neutrally but eyes held the fire he'd hold at bay until the time they'd be free and clear to burn her in a righteous inferno.

"If you wish to move within this house freely along side me I would choose the collar. If you get out if line you will know it by the shock I will administer. Which do you choose?"

Calm, quiet, watchful, deadly. He swallowed looking at the collar, "Put your collar on me." First thing he'd do once he was free of these chains was figure out a way to eliminate the threat of this dog-collar.

When she finished he looked up into those deep eyes asking, "Shouldn't I know my new owner's name?"

 

[Sinful_whispers]

Clarissa watched his eyes, almost getting lost within them. She knew this man was dangerous in more ways than one but that was part of what drew her to him. She often thought what would take her last breath, one of her toys, a man from her past, or perhaps a lover. She wanted to laugh, it would never be a lover, she would never allow herself to be in love with another man ever again. To be his property, to abide by his rules...never. That would leave a slave or a shadow from her past, she knew it wouldn't be a natural death either, that wasn't how things went for her in her life.

Her face stayed expressionless, letting him wonder what was running through her mind. She wanted to remain mysterious always. There may be times he shall learn a little about her but nothing she wouldn't want him to, and to her that was 90% of her life.

As his eyes roamed her body, her did the same. Clarissa had the right to do as she pleased with him, whether it be to beat him, to fuck him, to do absolutely nothing, it was her choice she paid handsomely for every inch of his body, mind and his soul...fuck his heart she could give a rat's ass about that.

This was the first time in oh so many years that she could remember wanting to trace every inch of a man. it was the fire that she desired, the danger show loved, and she knew he could have easily did what he said and snapped her neck last night but he chose not to, a weakness he had and he shared....tsk, tsk...one point for his Mistress.

She watched as his eyes moved to the collar, she could see her knew exactly what type it was, and perhaps realized she wasn't playing a game with him, per say. His voice was rough, reminding her of a man that drank and smoked way to much and sang that old country twang music in Nashville barrooms.

"On the contrary, It's not often a man knows the value of his body to the dollar. Imagine their faces when I tell people this is a million dollar body." He responded as she gave her answer on the cost she paid.

"Ah, a man in your position should be careful how he speaks to the one that owns him. Life could suddenly become very much like hell for you." Clarissa crossed her arms over her breasts, the collar dangled from her fingertips.

He clenched his jaw, she thought it only added to her attraction. There was something about him, she had a feeling that he wasn't to be auctioned last night. If so, he was new to the community, far from anyone willingly wanting to be in the lifestyle. Time will tell she thought. Though it may add a bit of a problem at first...after that who knows as she wasn't worried and did not care.

"Put your collar on me." He said answering her question of choice.

Clarissa unhooked the lock on the collar, removing it and opened the collar fully. She knew if he moved all she had to do was touch him with the prongs and hit the control button and he would feel the intense shock. if that were the case, she would go to step two and there are some men who disapproved of having their cock and balls shocked while a rob was stuck deep inside their cock.

Stepping forth she stood directly before him, she could feel his heated breath upon her bare flesh. The control stayed tight within her fingers pressed into her palm, all she had to do was apply the slightest bit of pressure and he would be feeling the voltage through every inch of his body.

The collar was soft upon his flesh as she closed it and secured it with the silver lock. her fingertips lightly moved between the collar and his neck. As she stepped a step back she moved her fingertips from the collar, along his neck to his jaw line lifting his head so their eyes would meet. his lips looked soft, his face rugged. She knew he needed a shower and cleaned up, that would come after breakfast. She was starving and wasn't sure when it was he ate last. Clarissa was denied food and drink before, she was denied voice of another and lived in darkness and solitude, there was something about that, that she hated so much she would never do that to another unless she was forced to play her last hand.

"Shouldn't I know my new owner's name?" He asked.

"Yes, you should so you may address me properly. I am Lady Clarissa Dumas. You will call me either Mistress or mistress Clarissa. I am sure a man as smart as you seem is capable of remembering that."

Turning and walking away, she held the remote within her fingertips and reached up on the armoire, and removed the key to the cuff and shackles and walked back to him once again. leaning slightly over him she undid the lock and removed the shackles and placed them on the floor, next she undid the cuffs and left him to be able to move freely, well almost freely.

"A slave normally walks behind their owner, you shall walk aside me. Stand and I shall feed you breakfast. I will not starve you." Clarissa said and turned awaiting him to take his place along side her before walking towards the doors and down the hall, the grand stairs to the kitchen.


Clarissa never allowed a man to see her scars upon her back, if they have none have ever said anything, those lashes are her demons, and her reminders alone. They faded to light marks only really showing if she tanned heavily. Up close one would notice them, to her they were dark and ugly. in her dreams demons grew from her flesh, demons of her past. Her guarded walls grew high, her heart as cold as ice. "Come." Clarissa admired his tattoo, curiosity had her wondering about it.

Her long slender arm extended and swiftly she grasped her fingers around his shaft and yanked him by his flaccid cock to move him quickly to her side and then released him, but not before taking a quick stroke of his full soft length. Then began to walk. Her brow raised when she touched him, she could feel that same feeling she had the night before, a stirring within her.

If he was going to ask questions it would be best if he did now, she told him once he could speak freely, if he chose not to ask then his loss. Though she never said she would answer anything.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Tristan Clark

Calm, quiet, watchful, deadly. He swallowed looking at the collar, "Put your collar on me." First thing he'd do once he was free of these chains was figure out a way to eliminate the threat of this dog-collar.

She unlocked and opened the collar. Tristan eyeing her wearily as she stepped forward close enough for him to touch even chained to the bed. He could've but he did not.

She bent down. He got a good whiff of her perfume...Gardenias? It was mixed pleasantly with some other aromas Tristan could not readily identify. He could feel the heat of her body so close to hers. His breath caught as he felt it and her fingers slide around his neck. His heart raced from a paradoxical mix of both fear at having another human being put a collar around his neck and exhilaration that this mysterious and sexy woman was the one putting the collar on his neck.

He didn't understand it, and his efforts to sort out those feeling were pushed to the back burner as she closed the collar. The leads that would deliver a painful debilitating amount of voltage if he stepped out of line with her.

When she finished he looked up into those deep eyes asking, "Shouldn't I know my new owner's name?"

"Yes, you should so you may address me properly. I am Lady Clarissa Dumas," She replied.

"Clarissa," He repeated trying the name out over his tongue.

She looked at him, "You will call me either Mistress or mistress Clarissa. I am sure a man as smart as you seem is capable of remembering that."

"I think I can..." He said deliberately letting it hang in the air between them before adding, "...mistress."

He could say the word, but meaning it....well that was never ever going to happen. She wouldn't be the first superior officer he had to kowtow to that didn't deserve her title or his respect.

He'd remain calm and compliant, and do what ever she wanted, call her what ever she wished to be called. All the while collecting more and more information and then when he gathered enough he'd make his move.

She turned and walked back to the armoire. Tristan's held his breath as she came to within reaching distance of all the whips and clamps and dildos, and whetever the hell else was in there that looked particularly menacing to him right now. But instead of pulling out an instrument of torture Clarissa reached up and pulled down a key.

She returned leaning down and freed him from his chains. Rising from the bed he rubbed his wrists and ankles where the shackles and handcuffs had restricted his blood flow a little. He eyed Clarissa again. She stood a distance away her thumb over the button ready to push it if he even twitched the wrong way towards her.

He could probably close the distance on her and try to wrest it from her, but he was operating within a vacuum of information. He needed to wait, observe, gather intelligence.

First thing he'd need to do is learn where this place was? How far from the nearest police station? How would he escape? How would he find some fucking clothes to wear? No, he needed a plan before he acted first.

She spoke then, "A slave normally walks behind their owner, you shall walk aside me." She turned to walk out waiting for him to take his place beside her like a suburban soccer-mom walking her fucking cocker spaniel would. "Stand and I shall feed you breakfast. I will not starve you."

Well, that was good to know. If she meant what she said and fed him regularly he'd be able to keep up his strength in preparation for his escape. "I would like that."

He rose and approached her waiting, watching...then he flinched as she reached out with her free hand and wrapped her fingers around his dick.

"Hey," He exclaimed.

She pulled and Tristan was forced to follow exactly where she wanted him beside her. He jumped again as she stroked his length. Tristan was well-endowed, very well-endowed in both length and girth, which was a blessing and a curse really. A blessing that it gave him no shortage of women in his bed eager to learn if size did indeed really matter, but when it came down to the deed it was: "It's too big...slow down...easy...not so fast...your hurting me...stop...I can't take it...I'm sorry." The result was every time he tried to get intimate with a lady friend he felt like the proverbial bull within the proverbial china shop.

She stroked his impressive length even when limp and flaccid.

"Do you really need to do that, Clarissa," He asked noting the arch of her brow.

She began walking and he followed after her to her side. They walked out of the bedroom and down a long hallway past a library, a study, a bathroom large enough to put his billet from Iraq inside. Her place was huge, sprawling, and looking out the window told him he was once again inside a mansion in the middle of nowhere.

"Breakfast would be nice, Clarissa," He asked, "But perhaps we both should get dressed first?"

 

[Sinful_whispers]

Oddly enough Clarissa liked the way her name rolled from his lips. There was something about this man that just didn't sit well in a way that he seemed out of place within this world of sex, pain, pleasure and domination. Clarissa just couldn't place her finger on what it was other than he just didn't seem to belong to the puzzle and her gut was telling her the same thing. With her past the one thing she relied upon was that inner sense and Clarissa was going to make a few calls and find out what she could about him.

One thing about him was he was well hung, and that was a plus. There wasn't many that she has been with since becoming a Mistress that had been hung as well as he if any. Clarissa had a feeling he used his endowment with women to use them as toys.

This handsome male reminded her of the mythical God Sampson. Who was given supernatural strength by God in order to combat his enemies and to perform heroic feats. Even though he was able to kill a lion, slay an entire army and destroy a pagan temple, he had but two vulnerabilities, his attraction to untrustworthy women and his hair which without he was totally powerless. To her he was Sampson and his power was his cock, and like Sampson these vulnerabilities could ultimately prove to be a downfall for him. Only time will tell she thought.

Hey! Do you really need to do that?" he asked her, his tone wasn't that one of a slave, it was more of a plain old cocky male with a chip on his shoulder and she was about to break it as soon as possible.

Clarissa ignored him and his questions for the time being. She took note that he already fucked up and didn't address her as he was told. Each time he spoke she didn't hear the title he was to use, each time was a strike against the man she thought was smarter than he was acting. He was pushing her and very soon he would feel her push back.

The steps they were about to descend down took them into the grand foyer, and great was the word for it. Decorated in modern art, tasteful furniture that was very cohesive using dark woods and animal prints. The marble steps curved it a spiral, her heels clicked upon it as an echoing sound formed.

She glanced from the corner of her eye making sure he was aside her keeping up, they stepped on the marble floor and she moved to the right, through the room and into a grand kitchen following a familiar smell. Clarissa was surprised yet not, she entered the kitchen and was greeted by her housekeeper and sometimes cook.

"Good morning Mina, I shouldn't be surprised to see you. You know I can cook for myself." She smiled to the woman who was in full uniform.

"Yes Ma'am, I know this but I had thought since a new slave was here I would do the honors for you both and make breakfast." The woman replied with a smile as she looked over the man her Mistress was with. Mina was in her mid thirties, though she looked older and had a scar down the right side of her cheek that stuck out from afar. Mina was loyal to her Mistress who she also considered her friend. it was her who saved mina from torture, bought her and took care of her as she did many others but the knowledge of this was kept secret for reasons.

"I appreciate the gesture" she said as she settled at the table which seated ten easily. Clarissa pointed to the naked man and then to a chair where a plate was placed, a cup of coffee and utensils. "Sit slave" she said as she watched him, his time will come when she strikes like a viper and pushed back showing him her power.

"Mina, you may take leave after serving and enjoy the day. I will be fine I assure you." Clarissa walked across the room hit a switch around the corner and set the electronic fence through the house, knowing if he ran he would feel the shock. Clarissa quietly stepped into the other room and made a phone call to the Lord who held the auction, "Greetings Lord, This is Clarissa, I want to inquire about a young woman at the auction. She was 5'5, long brown hair with welts upon her back in a ripped pink dress. Cage five I believe...was she sold by chance?"

Only one side of the conversation could be heard as Clarissa spoke, "shame, I was going to make an offer for her, perhaps I can with him. Thank you." She said an hung the phone up standing there for a minute or two knowing fully that once the girl became property of Master Ryan she would be tortured, abused and most likely broken down so badly Clarrisa wouldn't have a chance to even at her. She needed to act fast to try and con him out of her.

Clarissa wasn't the monstrous bitch every one thought, Mina was proof of that as were a handful of others that she had bought over the past years. She stepped back into the kitchen and took her place at the table, placed the linen cloth over her lap and fixed her coffee then started on her fresh cut fruit without a word said. She watched as Mina served the new slave and took her leave leaving them two alone once again leaving him think he got over on her with his defiance and attitude.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Tristan Clark

She began walking and he followed after her to her side. They walked out of the bedroom and down a long hallway past a library, a study, a bathroom large enough to put his billet from Iraq inside. Her place was huge, sprawling, and looking out the window told him he was once again inside a mansion in the middle of nowhere.

"Breakfast would be nice, Clarissa," He asked, "But perhaps we both should get dressed first?"

She led them down to the end of the hallway on her second floor, She had interesting tastes in decorating, the furnishing were all functional but modern, with none of the old-world plushness he'd have chosen, but really that was the extent of his interest in her décor. He kept a part of his mind on constructing a mental map of her house-his prison-for use in his eventual escape. That part of his brain also noted that she had no big bruisers standing guard near his room or anywhere near the room where they could respond instantaneously to protect Clarissa and subdue him.

Interesting. Was she counting on this fucking collar alone to deter him should he make his move now? Something told him Clarissa was not the type of woman to be that overconfident. She had to have another ace or two up her sleeve, but what? He had to find that out before he tried to make his escape.

The rest of his brain was intent on watching her. In those heels and that confident strut she made with each step made her hips roll and sway to the point a man would feint watching it from forgetting to breathe. Tristan was a leg man over breasts (not that he didn't appreciate a good sized pair of titties as much as any marine) It was just watching the long toned calves and thighs in motion revved his engine more than the sight of breasts bouncing lightly with her steps.

She kept her eyes locked forward, but he'd been around enough badasses in his career as a marine that he could tell she was watching him like a hawk from the corner of her eye. So she was confident, but not entirely complacent in that confidence. Under differing circumstances...no, he had to remind himself again, Clarissa Dumas, his would-be mistress, was the enemy.

She led them to a modern open floor-plan kitchen large enough to hold one of those cooking shows complete with camera and sound equipment. It kept with the rest of the house, large and lavish, but not in an overstated way...it was subdued largeness and subdued luxuriousness. So once you got used to it, you wouldn't ever think of it as fancy or shmancy, but it had all the amenities you could ask for: double-ovens, professional gas stove, a large stainless steel fridge, dishwasher, and wine cabinet.

Tristan started when he saw the young woman setting some plates down at the kitchen's table, Mina was a short and squat woman, black hair straight and short with just a few touches of grey. She had a kind-looking face, with signs of wrinkles that combined with the grey hairs showed she was a woman approaching the top of the hill, but what anyone would see at first glance at her was the terrible scar running the length of her cheek. It was old and healed over, but marring what would have been a pretty matronly face.

"Good morning Mina, I shouldn't be surprised to see you," Clarissa said on entering the kitchen, " You know I can cook for myself."

She looked over her shoulder to them setting down a steaming mug of coffee at one end of the table. "Yes Ma'am, I know this but I had thought since a new slave was here I would do the honors for you both and make breakfast." She smiled sliding her gaze over to Tristan and raking downward.

Tristan suddenly remembered he was buck naked, and his hands immediately crossed over his large manhood to shield it from her scrutiny. His cheeks flaring up with an uncustomary blush. He had no problem strutting around in his birthday suit around a woman in the sheerest set of lingerie he'd ever seen, but a clothed woman...a woman that reminded him so much like his mother. No, he wasn't the modest type but he had some sense of decency.

And he just knew Clarissa was loving this.

"I appreciate the gesture" Clarissa said as if she hadn't noticed his embarrassment at all. She crossed the kitchen and sat at the chair Mina pulled out for her.

She gestured to the chair across from her, "Sit slave."

He looked over to Mina. Still embarrassed about being naked in front of her, but he did not think he was going to get any clothes from Clarissa anytime soon. So he would just have to deal with it. He took a deep breath and looking at Mina pulled his hands back to the side. He was now front and center of Mina's gaze. He forced himself to casually walk over to the chair Clarissa had indicated. He pulled it back and sat at it.

"Mina, you may take leave after serving and enjoy the day," She said rising to flip some sort of switch around the corner. Tristan glanced around wondering what she had just turned on. there wasn't any new lights on that he could see, nor did he hear any air conditioning coming on. He'd have to study that control pad when he got the chance. "I will be fine I assure you."

Tristan looked down at the plate of cut cantaloupe and orange and banana pieces. He would've wanted some bacon or sausage or eggs to provide protein and energy for his eventual escape attempt. Still, grub was grub. He began to dig in carefully testing the food, remembering the fact that he'd been drugged before. He had no idea what Clarissa was capable of.

Meanwhile Clarissa was using her phone to call someone. He tried to look absorbed in his breakfast but in truth his ears were following every word she uttered.

"Greetings Lord, This is Clarissa," She said, "I want to inquire about a young woman at the auction."

Was she already looking for a new slave...why did that disappoint him so? He should be relieved, shouldn't he?

"She was 5'5, long brown hair with welts upon her back in a ripped pink dress," She continued, "Cage five I believe...was she sold by chance?"

Wait, that was close to the description to Maria. Tristan's hand carrying the orange slice from the plate froze midway to his mouth as he listened more intently.

A long pregnant moment passed where the orange didn't move an inch up or down before she continued speaking, "Shame, I was going to make an offer for her."

Was it Maria? Had she been sold to someone like Clarissa Dumas? Had she been sold to someone even worse?

"Perhaps I can with him. Thank you." She continued before hanging up and returning to the table.

He wanted to ask her who she had been talking to, about whom she had been talking about, but he didn't. Clarissa Dumas was not to be trusted. Clarissa Dumas was the enemy.

He lifted the mug of coffee and took a sip. He winced at the bitterness and held it out to her, "Pass the sugar, Clarissa."

 

[Sinful_whispers]

Clarissa didn't even bother to look up at him as she reached over for the newspaper that was placed to the right side of her plate, something Mina had been doing since she has been with her. She gave her a chance to leave, in fact any of her hired help has a chance to walk away yet they stick around. She had gotten other's respectable jobs, most were sent out of state or out of the country to friends, true friends of hers that hired them in respectable jobs.

She had enough of his disrespect and moved her hand slowly and touched the button sending a lingering jolt through this body. It was then she lifted her eyes to meet his as he sat there. "Eventually you will catch on. I would hope before you walk around with a fried cock between your legs."

Unfolding the paper she dropped her eyes to read the headlines, she sighed softly as they was a young girl found beaten almost to death. She scanned the article and from the description it wasn't one of the girls she had seen at the auction but it didn't mean it wasn't one of his. She knew in her gut he wouldn't do something so foolish this close to his home, but then again his temper had been flaring out of control from what she was hearing and nobody wanted to deal with him. Master's were thinking he would end up going beyond a point and wouldn't be able to stop.

She turned the page and waited to see if he would get his own sugar, as it sat close enough for him to reach it. her eyes looked up quickly and back down. "I do not serve you, it is YOU who serves ME."

Clarissa's head turned as she hear footsteps upon the floor and looked at the doorway, "Mina, Please go and enjoy the day."

Mina looked at her and smiled. "In a bit Miss Clarissa, I want to catch up on some stuff. My Raf, he go fishing today and I'm not sure what to do with myself so, I clean a bit."

Not many hear her laugh but Clarissa did. "Well do me a favor then, please keep an eye on the new slave, the lines are set. Hit the button if he gets out of control and you need assistance. I will be but a few minutes, please?" Clarissa wanted to see if he would try anything while she stepped away, but other things clouded her brain more so at the moment.

Mina nodded, "yes ma'am."

Clarissa placed the paper down, folded it and took leave to the other room where she began to make calls, trying to find out about the girl sold last night, what she could pay to get her and what she could find out about her new slave. Gut feelings were kicking in hard, he was out of his element.

Mina got herself a plate and coffee and sat on the opposite side of the table giving him the 'stink eye' look. She knew she could hit any of the panic buttons fast if need be but wasn't sure if she would need to. She learned from the past who not to trust and who to, she was loyal to her employer, and would forever remain that. "Eat, fresh fruit is good for the body. I not waste my time for nuttin'" she said to him as she sipped her coffee.

 

[Veroe]

IC Tristan Clark

She had sat back down and resumed reading her newspaper. Her legs crossed and to the side letting Tristan's eyes trace over their shapely length. The fact that she was older didn't faze him much. She was a gorgeous woman. She wore her age well fighting the ravages of midlife with remarkable discipline and effort, and that aside her looks was very attractive to Tristan. He was an active and a go-getter kind of person, and he had always been drawn to women who could keep up with him on a run or in life.

If circumstances were different...Tristan would have been after Clarissa Dumas for a date.

He wanted to ask her who she had been talking to, about whom she had been talking about, but he didn't. Clarissa Dumas was not to be trusted. Clarissa Dumas was the enemy.

He lifted the mug of coffee and took a sip. He winced at the bitterness and held it out to her, "Pass the sugar, Clarissa."

Her eyes still were scanning over the text of whatever newspaper article she had been reading, but her hand left where they were holding the page open and reached over towards the sugar between them. However it detoured over to the remote control she had placed to one side. One finger pressed one of the buttons on it.

Making a broken cry his hands slammed down on the table as voltage from the damned dog-collar ran roughshod over his nervous system. It made his muscles spasm and convulse uncontrollably there in his chair. He nearly tumbled out. He nearly spilled his coffee or knocked over his plate of fruit before the finger lifted and the shock ceased.

He looked up to her. Breathing deep. Well, he'd been pushing her to see how much rope she'd give him before she pulled him back. Now he knew, but he glared at her anyway. That had fucking hurt, and it was humiliating for a woman to assert such authority over himself.

"Eventually you will catch on," She said eyes rising from the page to lock horns with his, "I would hope before you walk around with a fried cock between your legs."

"Then I'd be of no use to you, wouldn't I," He retorted before adding, "Mistress", but with just the right emphasis to convey the message that he was only saying that to keep her from pressing that button again.

"I do not serve you," She replied glancing up from the page to him and then back down to the article she had been reading, "it is YOU who serves ME."

He reached out and took the sugar from the table and began to use his spoon to stir sugar into the coffee. "At the moment I seem to be serving myself." Then he added, "Mistress" with the same special emphasis as before.

Tristan knew he was just asking for her to push the button again, but he couldn't help it. Something about her was making him snarky no matter how much he told himself to be calm and compliant.

Mina came back into the kitchen and Clarissa turned her head to her. "Mina, Please go and enjoy the day."

She smiled to her saying, ""In a bit Miss Clarissa, I want to catch up on some stuff. My Raf, he go fishing today and I'm not sure what to do with myself so, I clean a bit."

Tristan finished stirring the coffee and raised for a sip. It was much better. He listened in remembering the importance of gathering information.

"Well do me a favor then, please keep an eye on the new slave," She told the woman, "The lines are set. Hit the button if he gets out of control and you need assistance. I will be but a few minutes, please?"

His eyebrow raised at the way she said the word: Slave, but he said nothing and just waited, listening...gathering intelligence...Clarissa was too guarded with him, but Mina...perhaps she could be a good source for information.

And what were these lines being set about? From the sound of it that was some kind of countermeasure meant to keep him here. Finding out about them had to be a priority.

Clarissa walked out of the room and Mina sat down in her chair across the long table facing him. She sipped her own mug of coffee as she sat there watching him."Eat, fresh fruit is good for the body," She said her hand perilously close to that goddamned remote, "I not waste my time for nuttin'"

"You're right about that, Mina," Tristan said raising another slice of Cantouloupe which he took a healthy bite out of. Grub was Grub afterall, "I appreciate the breakfast you made for me."

He sat there looking across from her chewing on the fruit pieces she had sliced for him. He finished his cantaloupe and raised his own mug of coffee for another sip.

"Tell me something, Mina," He asked her he ran his finger along his cheek where her scar would've been on his face, "Did she give you that? How painful was it? I want to know, since looking at the sadistic shit she has in that armoire upstairs in my room, I may be sporting a few scars of my own from her soon."

 

[Sinful_whispers]

Clarissa was placed on hold while on the phone. She was having a bad morning already and it just started. Never had she bought a slave that was so disrespectful, she knew something was just not right with him. His attitude was not going to be stood for. A slave knew to respect their owner, and she was his.

The auctioneer who worked the auction that night finally came to the phone, "Hello, Lawrence speaking." he said into the receiver.

"Hello Lawrence this is Clarissa Dumas, I am inquiring about the slave I paid VERY top dollar for last night. I want to know what information you received about him prior to the auction."

"Lady Dumas, I did not receive any information about him. All I know was he was given a number and placed in a cage for auction. I just did as told. By Lord Jarred. You paid a very big price, this I know. Is there a problem with him Lady Dumas?" he asked.

"No, no he is fine. Another question, can you tell me the amount paid for the woman Lord Ryan bought last night?"

"Which one Lady Dumas? He bought three, a red head, a blonde and a girl with darker hair. The redhead was twenty-five thousand, the blonde was twenty and the brunette was only fifteen. Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you Lawrence, you have helped me quite a bit." She said as she hung up the phone and made another call placing a feeler out. She knew her new slave was under watchful eye while she took care of business.

Mina looked him over, she like her employer both thought the same thing. He was not an ordinary slave if a slave at all. Mina had been a slave to many men, she knew a slave when she saw one, even a new one with very little training and experience would never speak to a Master or Mistress like he did to his.

She can remember her husband when they were first married and their small town raided, they were taken as slaves. he did not address his owner/s like told and he was hung and whipped with many lash marks to prove it. Mina's marks were from sadistic men, she could do nothing right. Separated from her husband then brought together, only to be separated again for many years.

They would meet by chance at auction houses, always staying faithful to each other and their vows. Was when they came upon each other again at the same auction house the new slave was bought at. Clarissa bought her, then Mina explained her sadness and to her surprise a week later her husband was bought by Clarissa as well and they have been working for her ever since then. It wasn't as slaves but as employer and employees. They were very loyal to her and would stay with her till she no longer needed them and told them to go.

"I appreciate the breakfast you made for me." Mina heard him say to her as she nibbled her fruit and drank her coffee cautiously looking at him and pondering. he was looking back, she could see him eyeing her scars, this wasn't anything new to Mina. She was used to it, so it no longer made her feel uncomfortable.

"You are welcome." She replied and looked to the other room then back to him.

"Tell me something, Mina, Did she give you that? How painful was it? I want to know, since looking at the sadistic shit she has in that armoire upstairs in my room, I may be sporting a few scars of my own from her soon." He said asking her about her scar.

Mina knew it wouldn't take long for him to inquire about it, but it disturbed her because right away he assumed his Mistress was the one who did it. She gave him a dirty look, one she called her 'stink eye' to let him know he was treading on quivering ground. "No, was not Lady Dumas who placed these marks upon me. It was many men, sadistic men..." She went quiet and drank her coffee, still bothered by him. Mina wasn't sure how much information she was going to tell him. She was glad to hear the sound of heels across the expensive tiled floor growing closer and closer.

Clarissa walked into the room, Mina offered a smile and got up. She cleaned her area and finished her coffee as Clarissa asked her to please come to her room in a bit. "I have a job for Raf when he returns Mina. He will be taking payment and picking up a shipment. Which Mina knew meant he was taking money to buy another slave.

"Yes Ma'am, I will let him know as soon as he returns." Mina smiled and turned away as Clarissa took her seat once again and started nibbling on a slice of fruit and sipping her coffee in silence. She wondered who this man was, he was no slave, but she will play along if he didn't wish to fess up.

She stood and hit the button on the wall dropping the 'fence' within the room and house. She turned and looked at him. "Who are you?" She asked starring at him, her eyes within his. There was very few men she trusted, and those were the handful she was able to give them their safety and freedom. "You are not smart enough to be a slave, they know to respect, they know how to serve another even those less experienced. They feel it in their gut...that desire to want to please. You, not sure what you feel...but I know it is not to give every bit of you to another."

Clarissa zapped him again, for the way he spoke, acted and just for his attitude in general. He pissed her off almost more than Fucking Lord Ryan and that was pretty bad. The man hid behind a title and whip and his family money. She would take him down if it was the last thing she'd ever do.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Tristan Clark

"Tell me something, Mina," He asked her he ran his finger along his cheek where her scar would've been on his face, "Did she give you that? How painful was it? I want to know, since looking at the sadistic shit she has in that armoire upstairs in my room, I may be sporting a few scars of my own from her soon."

If looks could kill the one Mina gave him at his admittedly overly-direct question would pierce the side of an Abrams battletank. "No, was not Lady Dumas who placed these marks upon me. It was many men, sadistic men..."

He watched her look down and drink her coffee then saying all she would on the subject. Tristan didn't press her further. That had scorched any bridge with Mina he had. He didn't want to burn it down correctly pursuing the matter more with her when she clearly didn't want to share that with a relative stranger. Still, it told him a great deal about this person his would be Mistress was, and that was valuable intel. Mina's quick denial that it wasn't Clarissa's doing told him she was loyal, and not out of fear of reprisals if Clarissa had overheard them.

Speaking of which Clarissa walked back into the kitchen at that point. Tristan sat and finished his pieces of fruit as Mina got up and began clearing her things on the table. She told her that she'd be required in her room later and: "I have a job for Raf when he returns Mina. He will be taking payment and picking up a shipment."

Tristan noted a bit more of a connotation to the word shipment than what was readily apparent, but didn't comment on it. He should keep his head down until he figured out his would be Mistress-Clarissa Dumas out.

Clarissa then resumed her seat directly across from him. Tristan watched her closely. She was god-damned gorgeous. She nibbled on her own slice of cantaloupe and Tristan pulse hammered as he watched enraptured as teeth and lips bit down into it.

Damn she was hot.

He had to remind himself she was the enemy again.

Abruptly she got up and crossed over to the controls on the wall and pressed a button. Then she turned regarding him. "Who are you?" She asked starring at him, her eyes within his.

Name, rank, and serial number was what he had been taught for this situation, but there was a large part of him that wanted to give her nothing just to spite her.

"You want my name now," He asked mockingly. His eyes sparred with hers before he finally admitted, "It's Tristan."

With that she continued, "You are not smart enough to be a slave."

He laughed with biting sarcasm, "I didn't think you were interested in my brains when you bought me. How smart does your slaves need to be?"

"They know to respect," She riposted, "They know how to serve another even those less experienced. They feel it in their gut...that desire to want to please. You, not sure what you feel...but I know it is not to give every bit of you to another."

"You're just now realizing you've been sold a lemon in me-'Mistress'," He laughed again with a mocking bite, "Might as well take me back to those god-damned human traffickers at the mansion and demand a refund because you're right...I don't know how to serve anyone. I've never met anyone that deserved my service and you wanna know something else-I still haven't-'Mistress'."

He knew it was coming, but there was no preparing for the jolt of electricity as she pressed a button on that damned remote and the god-damned dog collar went off as punishment for his statement. His muscles convulsed and he knocked over the mug of coffee on the table. This time it was longer and it felt like it was more voltage, but at last it inevitably ceased.

He glared up at her, "What is it you want of me? From what I've seen of your house you can afford a platoon of servants waiting on you hand and foot, and you'd probably would have saved a lot of money compared to what you paid those bastards for me. So if you don't want me to be your butler..."

He rose up knocking the chair he'd been sitting in back. Tristan then reached down and raised his free hanging cock to point at her. "...Is this what you wanted from me? The jokes on you then, honey, because all you had to do was ask for it."

"Or maybe you want me as your new whipping boy," Tristan growled pulling on the damned collar, "If you think I'm gonna just stand and take that just because of this fucking thing around my neck then you're the one who's fucking stupid-'Mistress'."

 

[Sinful_whispers]

You want my name now, It's Tristan." He said mocking her which Clarissa found even if he wasn't a slave he was ignorant and his ego seemed to be huge. She knew men like him, they were the ones who marked her flesh, making her do against her will as a human being. Humiliation and that was what she tried not to do but he was pushing her buttons. Hard.

Clarissa continued to eat and enjoy her breakfast, she listened to his sarcastic asinine wit and laughter. "I didn't think you were interested in my brains when you bought me. How smart does your slaves need to be?" He asked as she explained about respect and wanting to serve. If the guy had any smarts he would honestly be able to look around and see she owned no slaves he was the only one, the rest worked for her and had free roam of her home. They came and went as they pleased unless she asked them to do something.

"You're just now realizing you've been sold a lemon in me-'Mistress'." He said with another sarcastic laugh as she sipped her coffee and took another bit of her fruit. Clarissa didn't even bother to look up to him, she wasn't letting him take her backwards when she had come so far. And so he continued to run his mouth.

Might as well take me back to those god-damned human traffickers at the mansion and demand a refund because you're right...I don't know how to serve anyone. I've never met anyone that deserved my service and you wanna know something else-I still haven't-'Mistress'."

Enough was enough she thought and she reached over and placed her index finger on the red button on the controller and just looked down at her newspaper while she took another bite using the fork in her free hand. Clarissa heard the cup hit the table and yet she didn't care, she continued to take another bite and slowly her finger was lifted from the control. maybe he had enough she thought, or maybe he didn't.

Clarissa liked his look from the first time she saw him, she thought maybe he would be the one to help her to move these slaves faster but he was proven to be a big pain in the ass to her yet she couldn't allow him to win this battle. And then he started again only this time he added the theatrics.

"What is it you want of me? From what I've seen of your house you can afford a platoon of servants waiting on you hand and foot, and you'd probably would have saved a lot of money compared to what you paid those bastards for me. So if you don't want me to be your butler..." He stated and then stood up knocking over the stool that he had been sitting his bare ass on. Clarissa didn't even flinch as she flipped the paper over reading the bottom half of the front page and took a sip of her coffee.

[/B]"...Is this what you wanted from me? The jokes on you then, honey, because all you had to do was ask for it."[/B] Again she ignored his ignorant angry ass as he stood there cock in hand waving it around like so crazy lunatic trying to be all dramatic.

He stood there continuing to ramble on as he yanked at the collar around his neck. Clarissa yawned, stood up and hit the button again as she looked to him standing there holding his flaccid meat in hand and just gave him a long lingering jolt for spite. "Your probably not even good in bed." She said as she walked over looking as the pantry door opened and a huge muscular man stood there looking between the two. The guy was like a brick shithouse, she often wondered how he fit in the front seat of the car. John was her driver, she rescued him, set him free but he had no place to go, so he became her driver and lived on the premises.

"Everything okay Ms. Dumas?" He asked.

"Please take him and show him the shower, lets see if the collar is water proof or not. Thank you John." was all she said as she walked past her new slave and up to her room.

So he wouldn't give him a problem John stunned the new slave, watching him drop to the floor. John took him, tossed him over his shoulder and carried him up to the room and laid him on the bed. He opened a hidden door in the panel that slid over to the left and exposed a set of bars like a jail and within that cell was a sink, toilet shower and everything needed for him to clean himself up.

John stood there until he came to and showed him to the shower area.

In the mean time Clarissa hadn't time to wait for Raf and decided to do the run herself. She dressed in jeans, boots and a silk shirt and grabbed the attaché case and headed out the door telling Mina she would be back as soon as she could and please make sure her new slave was comfortable. Clarissa hit the button and all the fences went up within the house. She knew he couldn't overpower John. When he was done John was to wait till Clarissa returned before leaving him alone.

It was almost 1.5 hours later when she returned with the girl. She took her up stairs and showed her to a bedroom across from her new slaves where she could shower, change and stay till a doctor friend of Clarissa's came to see her and tend to her wounds. The girl was scared, yet she knew she would be sent to wherever she called home or wanted to go and be free to live her life with a little help from Clarissa.

Mina walked up and stayed with the girl, bringing her food and talking to her as she rambled in Spanish and it was Mina who would understand and translate for Clarissa. Mina knew the rundown, she had done this before.

Clarissa walked down the hall and called the doctor, he would come immediately, he knew what she did for these people that were abused and broken. He was paid handsomely for his part he played. her new slave was the last thing on her mind at the moment. She would get to him soon enough, this was far more important to move her fast.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Tristan Clark

"Or maybe you want me as your new whipping boy," Tristan growled pulling on the damned collar, "If you think I'm gonna just stand and take that just because of this fucking thing around my neck then you're the one who's fucking stupid-'Mistress'."

Tristan could tell about two thirds of the way into his rant that he was making a rather large tactical mistake with his would-be-'Mistress', Clarissa Dumas here. The signs were there for even someone as hardheaded as a Marine to see in her. During his tirade she had sat unfazed and un-intimidated by his rancor. That took some balls-or whatever physical attribute was applicable in her case, and despite himself Tristan gave her a good deal of respect for maintaining her ironclad composure.

Here he had vented all of his rage at his helplessness at her and she had made it about as futile as shooting spit wads against the armored side of an Abrams tank. Then he saw that untouched tank's turret began to turn its gun towards him as he saw her stand up and reach for that damned remote again.

It wasn't a surprise this time, and he knew he had it coming-odd that it settled his emotions getting shocked like a dog. He lifted himself back up looking up to her.

She gave him another jolt from the collar saying, "Your probably not even good in bed."

That struck a nerve but Tristan was compelled to double down on voicing his defiance of her growling as she turned, "Is that what you bought me for, 'mistress'? I will nev-" He broke off as the pantry door swung open and a giant stepped through it.

Tristan was a good six feet tall, but this guy was at least six to eight inches taller if not seven feet and built like a rhinoceros with a barrel-chest and the broadest shoulders he'd ever seen on a man. He was a Mt. Everest of muscle with with salt and pepper hair marking him somewhere near the later half of middle-age.

Goliath looked to Clarissa, "Everything okay Ms. Dumas?"

"Please take him and show him the shower," She replied with a dismissive gesture towards him, "lets see if the collar is water proof or not. Thank you John." She then strutted past him in that infuriatingly sexy way.

Tristan watched her go out the door into the hallway as she did he noticed the soft faded lattice of healed over scars on her back and butt. How had he not noticed those before? He had been watching her like a hawk and-

He didn't as the dog collar unleashed a whopper of a jolt this time and his body collapsed onto the kitchen's hardwood floor.

He came to with John, the Goliath looming over him. Immediately Tristan looked around at his surroundings. He was at the door of a room hidden behind a panel in the wall. The room was tiled in black behind what looked like the bars of a cage. Within it was a toilet and sink. above was a showerhead.

He looked back to John who crossed his massive arms and pointed with his chin to the inside. "Take a shower."

"I could," He said rising up to his knees but drumming his fingers on the side of the collar, "But didn't Clarissa say this thing may not be waterproof."

The shock came from the collar as he uttered her name without her title. Well, so much for gaining the giant's sympathy to get him to pull off the damned collar. Now Tristan was unlikely to get any progress towards his freedom from this guy. So far both of her minions seemed completely loyal to her. The smart move would be to play along and learn as much as he could. But dammit the subject of Clarissa Dumas owning him made him behave counter to that strategy-something about her...

He shot the giant an angry look. His size and muscles didn't intimidate Tristan. He had size and muscles too afterall, and the corps and his tours in Iraq and Afghanistan had taught him that even the big nasty characters could go down if someone smaller was committed enough to get even nastier.

He sighed and turned to the hidden room. Now wasn't the time. He needed to establish himself as non-threatening again so when he did make his move he'd have the element of surprise going for him. He stepped inside the cage but left it unlocked and stepped inside the shower turning the nobs. Nothing.

"Close and lock the door," The giant said

This made him fume but he pushed that down and crossed over to the door and swung it closed. The lock clicked as soon as he did, and he was sealed inside.

"It won't open unless I do it," He told Tristan, "You have ten minutes before I walk out this room and your wet ass is stuck in there to catch cold."

Tristan pursed grit his teeth but stepped back into the shower and turned the nobs. picking up the soap and shampoo from the shelf inside.

As he dragged the unscented soap over the washboard of his abs he began to think back on his 'Mistress". She was beautiful, and didn't take any shit. If it weren't for the intolerable fact that she was keeping him as her slave...she'd be his ideal woman.

Clarissa Dumas was the enemy. Why did he keep having to remind himself of that?

His mind flashed back to those feint lines of healed over scars. How long ago had she gotten those? What were the circumstances to getting them, and why on Earth did the thought of anyone inflicting those wounds upon her make him want to strangle the bastard.

Clarissa Dumas was not a friend or ally. Clarissa Dumas was Tristan's obstacle to freeing Maria. She was his jailer. She was his enemy. He needed to get that through his thick jarhead skull.

Sure she was pretty. In fact she was seduction in high heels and chiffon, but no matter how much he wished things could be different she had taken his freedom from him. There was no getting around it with wistful thoughts of differing circumstances. There was only the ugly reality that he was a prisoner and she was his enemy.

He finished his shower and dripping wet he crossed over to the toilet to relieve himself and washed his hands.

"One minute," John rumbled.

"Alright hold your horses," He said crossing to the door, "I'm ready. Open up the cage."

"Step back," He ordered, and when Tristan did that he stepped up to the door and keyed in the combination to unlock it. "Stay there."

He backed up keeping his distance.

"Come out of the room."

Tristan stepped through the open cage doors. "Do I get a towel to dry off or drip all over your mistress's floors?"

John pulled a towel from the dresser and threw it to him. Tristan caught it.

"You have two minutes."

He dried his hair and body quickly, Then John had him put the towel in a clothes hamper in the corner and slide the panel to the hidden room closed.

"What now?"

"Sit on bed," John pointed with his chin towards the bed he had been chained to, "Wait for Lady D. to return."

"Listen, just look the other way and let me go. I-ack!" Tristan broke off as the god-damned collar was triggered again.

"Sit on bed," John repeated sternly, "Wait for Lady D. to return."

Tristan glowered at him briefly considering how to charge the man and take him out. The distance was too great however, and the big bastard was just too ready to push the button on that damned remote. Tristan would never make it to him.

Growling and muttering curses under his breath he climbed onto the damned bed, and crossed his arms glowering at Gigantor. "Fine."

Time passed and morning slid to afternoon, before his would-be 'Mistress', Clarissa Dumas returned to his bedroom.

In greeting to her Tristan tapped the collar saying, "Turns out its waterproof after all."

 

[Sinful_whispers]

By the afternoon, the doctor had shown up and given the female slave a check up. He left behind medicine, and instructions for Mina to follow to get the girl ready for travel as soon as possible. Clarissa liked to keep the slaves moving, one in and another out as soon as possible but not until they were fully ready thought, She would never jeopardize another one's health.

Clarissa walked in and sat on the bed, she brushed the long hair from the girl's face and looked at her bruised and beaten face. It pained her to see anyone this badly abused especially from the hands on Lord Ryan. her fingertips lightly grazed the young girls face, she could easily see where her cheekbone was fractured and knew in time that she would heal on the outside but the inside scars would cause her nightmares for the rest of her life.

Mina walked in and had lunch for the girl, she smiled at Clarissa as she stood aside her placing the tray aside on the table. "It's never easy, and I know it pains you to see such a sight, memories and old wounds opened up again and again each time you save another. But remember you save lives." She placed her arm around Clarissa and hugged her.

"It won't ever end Mina unless he is destroyed and knocked off his pedestal. He does this to every slave he purchases, abuses them to the point of almost death if not death. I don't understand human beings like him, he shouldn't even be classified as that, he isn't in my book he's a sadistic monster." Clarissa swallowed hard and stood up, she placed a kiss to Mina's forehead and turned around and walked out of the room letting Mina tend to the girl. She owed Mina so much, and Mina insists it was she who owes her, perhaps this was the way life was to be, she didn't know.

It was now time to deal with her newest slave, she wished he would be more cooperative but he wasn't. Perhaps he was to be bought and released, she had no clue what he was doing at the auction and it truly bothered her more than anything. What she feared most was that he was a plant by Lord Ryan, if he knew who Clarissa was he would definitely come after her and reclaim what was once his property and by the rules of the underground lifestyle was unless you were freed by your buyer (Mistress/Master) you were theirs till they do so or death.

Clarissa went up and showered, trying to relax as she could feel the anger within her building and knew to not even attempt to work with her new slave until that level dropped and she was at a point where he couldn't push for her to hurt him in a sense of leaving deep marks with a whip, strap or anything else she had hanging in her closet of 'toys.'

Getting dressed Clarissa chose a Suspender leather teddy with O ring detail and a black thong. There was a small black leather strap that connected the thong to a thin collar, her nipples were the only part of her breasts covered leaving very little to the imagination. She slipped her feet into a pair of 7.5 inch high leather, steel and chrome platform spike embellished stiletto heels, she buckled the ankle straps and stood up, looking herself over as she wore a small black mask that covered a small area of her face. her hair was up in a mass of curls on the back of her head, red lipstick a smile and a leash in hand.

"Turns out its waterproof after all." he said to her as she sighed softly.

"So I see, she replied and walked over to him walking around him, the tattoo only added to his beautiful muscular body. She moved the crop tip along the back of his right leg, slowly dragging it up along his back thigh, over his ass cheek and up his back, over his shoulder and stood in front of him while she moved it down his chest to his cock. Looking directly at him she traced his length. "Impressive, how you clean up. very handsome I must say." Everything about him turned her on, she could easily be attracted to him, which meant she was to a point.

"I do hope the shower relaxed you..."

 

[Veroe]

IC:Tristan Clark

In greeting to her Tristan tapped the collar saying, "Turns out its waterproof after all."

She came in wearing a little black mask and a black leather swimsuit-looking thing that drove his imagination to some rather distracting places. He couldn't help but wonder how her skin would feel under his fingertips in the open space from her collar around her neck, and down between her breasts only held in by the flimsy constraint of the leather straps, down to the hem of the thong below her belly button.

"So I see," She replied to his statement with a soft sigh to her voice.

She also walked inside the room on ridiculously high heels with chrome spikes sticking out of it like the quills of a porcupine. Those long sexy toned legs striding with a confidence where any lesser woman would break an ankle in those. Before he thought Clarissa Dumas was a runner or swimmer, but now he wondered whether she was a ballerina the way she balanced and moved in the things like she was born in them.

In her hands were a length of chain like a dog's leash. The other hand held a long thin stick with a broad leather tip at the end. He eyed it nervously. He knew that this was coming from the moment he had seen what she kept inside that damned closet.

"What are you going to do with that," He asked her rising to his feet and taking a tentative step into the middle of the room.

Tristan knew he was probably just setting himself up for another shock or the feel of that damned riding crop in her hand, but he couldn't help it. He needed to say something to defuse the tension being fed by the hawklike intent in her eyes as they roamed over the chiseled muscles of his chest and arms. He could feel them like fingers following the design of the tattoo on his chest and shoulder down his bicep to his elbow.

She circled around behind him and Tristan nervously turned his head to follow her. She had the mass of chocolate brown tresses piled up atop her head and her back was bare in what little she was wearing. He could see more clearly now the criss-crossing scars long faded but still remaining there.

"Who did that to you?" Why did he care, and why in hell did the thought of someone striking her fill him with a violent need to hurt that someone. He needed to remind himself again that Clarissa Dumas was his enemy and he should probably want to buy the bast-err-that is-man a beer for it.

Tristan jumped where he stood as he felt the leather tip of the crop against the back of his leg and ever so slowly up his thigh and then round the curve of his buttock raising Goosebumps as it went.

What was she doing to him? He was prepared for crude glares and demands but this? Tristan felt like the sweep of that crop over his skin was making him lose armor he hadn't known he had placed over his soul.

The crop leisurely went on its way up the line of his spine. She didn't speed up. She didn't slow it down. Clarissa Dumas was just taking the time she desired inspecting her property.

No! Why in hell did he think that? He was nobody's property. He must never relent on that belief. Even though she was laying siege to it with every passing moment.

She circled back to stand in front of him that crop tracing over his shoulder along his collar and down the split in his pecs and over the washboard of his abs. His breath increased and deepened as he realized where she was heading. Tristan's pulse was pounding in his ears.

"Impressive." Her words were soft yet struck him like a full-metal jacketed round in the gut. "how you clean up. very handsome I must say."

Why the hell was he actually proud or cared for what she thought? She was the fucking enemy, goddamnit.

Her eyes were down, but not demurely at all. They watched the traitor of his cock as it was busy filling with blood and rising up like a dog would when greeting the homecoming of its Mistress-Damn it-he meant Master-or Owner-None of these words were right.

It was a stupid analogy anyway. Clarissa Dumas was his enemy.

"I do hope the shower relaxed you..."

He looked up at her words. His hands had clenched into a fist, but hung useless at his sides. The thought of pushing her away from him had never occurred to him and he still stood rock solid on the spot taking her close regard like a green recruit at morning revelry in boot camp.

He swallowed and tried to summon some of the pissed off attitude she had just stripped him of. Gesturing to his hardening cock full to its mammoth length and girth he attempted, "I seem to be getting less relaxed by the second, Mistress."

He blinked as that last word left his mouth....he had intended to put that wry sarcastic note to it he had been using every time he had called her that. It had just slipped out free of that taint, damn it.

Clarissa Dumas was his enemy. He couldn't let her take that away from him.

 

[Sinful_whispers]

Clarissa walked behind him as she took the crop and smacked it against his right ass cheek leaving a slight red mark and then she did the same to the left. "Firm and muscular." She would never ever mark him like she was marked. She vowed that if she ever got free from his hands that she would never ever abuse another so bad that scars would be left or to cause any kind of broken bones or disfigurement.

She heard the comment he had made about his cock but as she looked around to the front of him his cock was standing at salute. As much as he wanted it to obey him and go limp. It wasn't happening, but just the opposite was. Clarissa prefer men that were consensual and this one wasn't which made it hard for her to treat him as a submissive. To her also a Dominate really is nothing without a slave or submissive willing to give and this man was far from willing.

Clarissa was done fucking around with him, she knew what she wanted from him and she was going to take it. perhaps it was rape in some eyes but he was at the auction, he didn't explain why he was there to begin with. Clarissa walked around him again and she reached out and gripped his cock within her soft slender fingertips and stroked him lazily just getting a feel of his cock. Fuck he was hung nicely and a bit of cock torture could change his mind or make him twice as unruly as he already was.

With a firmer grip she yanked on his rock hard cock and lead him to his bed where she turned him as she pushed him back and used the crop to slap it back and forth between his knees as she looked down upon him. "A submissive always seeks approval from his or her Dominate, they are giving, they want to serve as I told you. I haven't figured out why you are here yet. Do you work for Lord Ryan?" She asked in a stern voice as she quickly brought her foot up upon the bed and placed a stiletto tip upon his balls sac and pinned him to the bed. Clarissa wondered if he was here to spy, to see what she did with these slaves she buys from him and at auction outbidding him almost every time.

Clarissa used the crop and ran it along side his cock up one side and down the other giving the shaft as well as the head a few light slaps, hearing the leather kiss the tight flesh. She tapped the head again and again straight on the tip with the black leather end while holding him there with her spiked heel pinning him to the bed. "Give me the truth, who are you and why are you here?" Fuck, the more she used the crop on him, watching his rock hard prick respond the more she wanted this man.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Tristan Clark

"I seem to be getting less relaxed by the second, Mistress."

He stood rock still as her eyes traced over his naked body bringing a tingling to his nerves as she surveyed her property.

He should be pissed as hell at that. He was not an animal or her pet. He was a man god damn it. Tristan was not a piece of meat here just for her enjoyment.

Then why wasn't he doing something about it? He was bigger and stronger than her. She was easily within striking distance. If he was quick enough and sudden enough he could take her down before she could activate the god damn collar around his neck. If he was lucky he'd take her out without her making a sound.

Yet here he was frozen in place like a statue as she made her way back behind him.

Why wasn't he doing so-

-That crop struck his ass making him jump where he stood then it hit his other cheek. "Firm and muscular." She stated appreciatively.

That fucking hurt. His hands reached back to cover his ass for anymore strikes. He glared at her as she circled back around him again. Why the hell had his cock had gotten rock hard at that? Tristan wasn't one of those pathetic losers that got off as women like Clarissa Dumas beat the shit out of them.

"You enjoy tha-" He cut off as her hand shot out and wrapped around his hard cock. Her fingers weren't able to wrap around it but they began to stroke it lazily.

Fuck, what was she doing to him? Tristan's hands had switched to the front to stop her from whatever she was doing, but it was they that stopped as her fingers traced the veins climbing up the length of his cock.

Then those magic fingers took a firmer grip of him and began to lead him like a dog on his leash over and back: one step, two steps, three...

Tristan glanced back over his shoulder to see she had maneuvered him right up to the foot of the bed he had been chained to before. The back of his knees pressed right up against the linen sheets. "What are you-"

"A submissive always seeks approval from his or her Dominate" She pushed him then with a hard shove. Tristan's arms windmilled as unbalanced he fell backwards bouncing on the bed's mattress. "They are giving, they want to serve as I told you."

"Well, I don't have a submissive bone in my body," He growled at that.

"I haven't figured out why you are here yet." That damned crop slammed against the inside of his knee and then the other. Reflexively his legs spread at the impact of each away from that crop. "Do you work for Lord Ryan?"

"Lord who?" Clarissa's leg raised and came down onto his cock harder than ever-fucking traitor. The sharp tip of the stiletto heel landing right on the throbbing base of it. "Hey, don't-I've never heard of the guy-" His hand came up and took hold of her calf trying to lift her foot off of him, but he didn't have the leverage to accomplish that. "-get off me."

"Give me the truth," She demanded. That crop came down tracing up one side of the long length of him and then down the other. His other hand reached out and tried to grab it from her grasp, but quick as a serpent she pulled it away. "Who are you and why are you here?" He watched in both fear and an even more frightening sense of anticipation as Clarissa Dumas brought the tip down on several swift slaps onto the head of his cock.

"Oww." Why was he getting so hard from this? Why was he leaking precome now? Why wasn't he fighting her more? Tristan wasn't the type of man that got his rocks off on this.

"Bitch," He bit out glaring at her, "I was looking for a niece of a friend of mine. I tracked her to that mansion. I got shot with a tranquilizer. The next thing I know I was tied to that post and you were buying me. Then I woke up here."

 

[Sinful_whispers]

Clarissa loved how this man tried fighting her and yet his body was deceiving him, betraying him as she touched him with the crop. He was strong-willed and she liked that, her eyes moved over his tattoo and found it attractive on his body, how it fit every muscle and every curve of his form.

She listened to him answer her question about working for Lord Ryan as her stiletto heel pierced him to the bed. She studied his face and said that he had never heard of the guy and then tried to grab her calf but couldn't. She told him to give her the truth as glared down at him.

Clarissa had no fear from this man, she knew what he was most likely capable of and she didn't back away. Her security wouldn't make it in time if he snapped her neck yet she didn't back away. if anything she did just the opposite because she saw how he was responding to her aggression, and he was clearly enjoying every bit of it by the way his cock stood up rock hard for her.

She gave his cock another slap with the leather crop and listened as he responded with an owww...and looked seeing the tip seeping pre cum in excitement from what she was doing.

"Bitch, I was looking for a niece of a friend of mine. I tracked her to that mansion. I got shot with a tranquilizer. The next thing I know I was tied to that post and you were buying me. Then I woke up here." He said to her which really caught her off guard but she couldn't show it, she couldn't allow him to show how he caught her off guard with that and she knew then it could be true.

"Mistress Bitch to you!" She said and gave the tip of his cock another smack watching as the leather became wet from his pre cum as she did. Clarissa walked around the bed and gave the collar a shock, she did it long enough to be able ti subdue his wrists to the bed as she grabbed one and cuffed it then the other and quickly worked it closed before he really was able to react.

She traced the crop along his inner arm, down to his armpit and down his chest. She stopped at his lower stomach and gave it a few slaps right above the base of his cock. She left her eyes admire him as the crop tip moved along his length, up one side over the oozing tip and down the other side. She gave his balls a couple slaps as well listening as the wet leather met his flesh.

She leaned over him and placed one hand upon his chest, her nails raked around his chest, using her thumb and finger she pinched and tugged his nipple feeling how the little nub reacted and got erect as she released it then tapped the other with the crop seeing it do the same. "Your story may be true, in fact I'm thinking I may actually believe you because I know what that man is capable of."

"But, you are mine. I bought you for a handsome price and until I find out whether its true or not you belong to me...to do as I please with and as I see it...your cock enjoys what I do to it." She slapped it again a few times all over his stone hard length. then moved the crop along his inner thighs listening to the flesh to flesh sound as she slapped along the muscular inner upper legs.

Clarissa reached over and wrapped her slender fingers around his cock and could feel it throb as she stroked him from base to just under his leaking mushroom shaped-cap. "You may hate me, but your cock tells me different my disobedient pet." Just as she said that Clarissa kneeled upon the bed and swung a leg over his body and placed his cock against her flat stomach and mound covered by the leather and looked down as she tapped the crop against the tip. "Must have been a while since you got off as you seem to be built up with so much pre-cum."

She placed her thumb upon the tiny seeping piss hole and rubbed it back and forth smearing the pre cum all around the head as she could feel her own juices seeping from between her thighs. Clarissa leaned back and rubbed the head of his cock against her swollen clit through the leather. "This cock is mine to do as I please." And with that said she slapped the whole underside that was exposed towards him to he could see as the mask moved a bit perhaps making it slightly impossible.

Clarissa hid her face behind the mask, she liked her identity hidden at this moment. She pulled the straps off her nipples and let them fall freeing her firm breasts. She reached and using her knees she lifted up a bit as she undid the silver snaps that held the leather bikini part and left it fall and pulled it through her thighs as for the first time he actually felt her pussy lips wrap around his cock as she lowered back down again and tapped the tip of his cock head as it rested against her belly.

"Tell me about who sent you and this niece of theirs..." She said as she raised her hips and placed the head of his cock inside her wet hole as she with held a moan she wanted to release so bad. "How do you know she was taken to Lord Ryan's auction?" She said as she pushed the head inside her wet fuck hole and slowly worked him in and back out of her pussy easing him in, because he wasn't exactly small in size by far. While she awaited her answer she snapped the leather crop against one nipple then the other as she bit her lips just feeling his cock inside her working it nice and slowly just using his dick as her flesh toy at the moment.

Clarissa ran the crop along one arm starting at his cuffed wrist downwards, across his upper chest and back to the other wrist as she had him bound as hers because he was.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Tristan Clark

"Bitch," He bit out glaring at her, "I was looking for a niece of a friend of mine. I tracked her to that mansion. I got shot with a tranquilizer. The next thing I know I was tied to that post and you were buying me. Then I woke up here."

"Mistress Bitch to you!" The crop came down smacking against his cockhead harder this time sending a frisson of pain shooting through him, but despite that he only grew harder at her words and the stings of that damned crop.

"Ah, stop it." This couldn't be happening. Tristan wasn't the type of guy who took this kind of abuse lying down. She removed that damned sharp heel from the base of his cock. The place it had been pressed into throbbed and stung as his cock now was free to raise up and point at the ceiling. Though he had a feeling that was only the first attack he was at least given a minute of respite.

Clarissa lifted the crop to gaze at the wet smear of his precum that had transferred onto its tip from hitting him. The pulled out that god damned remote control for the dog-collar from where on the barely there costume she wore Tristan had no idea.

"Don't-Ack!"

Her thumb pressed a button on it and Tristan fell back convulsing from the volts coursing through his body. The bitch kept it going and going as she stepped around to the right side of the bed and grabbed his wrist. His muscles were jelly. He couldn't use any of his strength to fight her from pulling his arm up to the corner of the bed. Tristan groaned out as the wrist cuff he had awakened in closed around it. His right arm was bound and still she had that damned collar zapping him as she stepped over to the left side of the bed to do the same thing to that arm.

Then that crop still wet from his own juices languorously ran down his arm curling over the tattoos of his bicep and shoulder down over his the design on his pec and lower over the washboard of his abs. He didn't like where that thing was heading but it stopped. She lifted and brought it down harder narrowly missing the head of his cock but coming down hard on his stomach.

He hissed at the pain and jerked and pulled at the chains.

Then the crop began on its journey down his body again. His eyes shifted to hers. As it traced the veins along his length Tristan could see the keen interest in him reflected in her eyes. She wanted him, and damn him to hell he wanted her too. He had ever since he first saw her.

Maybe that was why he was allowing her to treat him like this?

The tip of the crop curled over and around the head of his cock smearing more of his precum over it. Tristan tensed in preparation for her hitting that too but it didn't come this time, and he was somehow both relieved and shockingly disappointed that she didn't. The crop traveled down his length and around and over his balls. She lifted and brought the crop down once and then twice causing a soft thwack and a pained groan to tear through his clenched teeth.

She leaned over him eyes boring into his. "Your story may be true." Her hand lowered to his chest over his thundering heart. Her nails dug into his skin there and scratched down leaving red trails. "In fact I'm thinking I may actually believe you because I know what that man is capable of."

His eyes narrowed at what she said. "You mean that Lord Ryan guy you mentioned," He asked her pointedly, "But he aint the one that bought me like I was a piece of furniture."

""But, you are mine," She said closing her thumb and finger around his nipple. She pinched and pulled it making him grimace and again when that crop began to tap the other until both were hard under her ministrations, "I bought you for a handsome price and until I find out whether its true or not you belong to me..."

Her crop came down over his cock again and again. His arms strained and his rocked from one side to the other. "N-never," He growled through the sting closing his legs to shield his cock-not that it would shield his extra-large target from her very well.

"To do as I please with and as I see it..." The crop struck hard on his inner thigh and bit out a groan opening his legs a little wider. His cock throbbed and pulsed as hard as he'd ever experienced it in his whole life. "Your cock enjoys what I do to it."

"No it doesn't," He lied. "I am not-"

He stopped as her hand took hold of his cock. Her fingers didn't close around it but she still stroked it all the way to the rim of the helmet at its top. "You may hate me,but your cock tells me different my disobedient pet."

"It doesn't mean anything," His head shook at that. "Have you looked in the mirror tonight? In that get-up you could turn a gay man straight."

She raised her leg and climbed up on her knees on top of the bed. Then she raised one and swung it over him until she was straddling him. "Must have been a while since you got off as you seem to be built up with so much pre-cum." She took hold of him again and placed him against her stomach. He reached all the way up to her navel. Then She began to use the crop tapping the tip and making more of his precome to well out of it with each little tap she gave it. Her thumb pressed over the hole and smeared it over the head proving her point.

Yet still Tristan fought it, not because he had any chance of winning in his position but because he couldn't fathom surrendering even an inch of ground to her. Every millimeter she gained was given grudgingly by him in this siege of dominance over him body, mind, and soul. He could not let her win. His own self-identity was at stake.

He pulled and strained at the chains with a desperate strength, but they held fast keeping him locked within this losing battle with her.

She was right too. It had been a long time. The last time he had been with a woman was last Halloween. It had started hot and heavy at the party they had gone to, but later that night when she found the howitzer Tristan had hanging between his legs...well he'd learned to do a good pussy licking to bolster a girls courage to take on the monster between his legs (not that it was a chore for him, he really enjoyed making a woman fly apart from only his tongue) But compared to Clarissa Dumas that girl was a coward. His mist-Clarissa Dumas-from the start had taken him on like a matador standing her ground in front of a really really pissed off bull.

And if she wasn't careful about this whole "I own you, slave" bullshit this bull was going to give her the horns.

She then leaned back those silken brunette tresses hanging over the edge of the bed between his legs. Raising his head to the point where it was making the muscles in his neck strain but he could look down the length of his body to see hers. Those magnificent long legs were spread wide and beyond that all he could see were the mounds of her breast quaking and pushing at the straps of the leather swimsuit-thing that barely held them in. Beneath that at the juncture of her thighs he could see her sex only barred from his gaze by the narrow strip of the G-string she wore. Her hand reached between down her body and took hold of his cock again bending down to rub the head over where her clit would be beneath the leather of the G-string.

"This cock is mine to do as I please." And with that said she slapped the whole underside that was exposed towards him to he could see as the mask moved a bit perhaps making it slightly impossible.

"Jesus," He bit out tremors of pain and pleasure mixing lewdly with each and every time his cockhead spanked the leather covered pussy.

Despite that though his mind was grasping at the image of her face when the mask had slipped. It had only been a little fraction more of her face that was uncovered, and for a split second Tristan got the sense that she was panicking over the slip. But that was silly since he'd seen her face without a mask that morning and it wasn't like the mask she had on now really covered much of her face at all.

She raised back up slipping the straps off of her breasts and they seemed to Tristan to be begging for his hands. The chains clanged as he futilely tried to do just that. She then raised up and removed the panties part of the get-up throwing it to the corner of the room.

He had seen her body before today but now as she straddled over him she looked more than just beautiful and fit, now she looked...like the most desirable woman he had ever know from the smoky look in her eyes or the sultry near-smile to her lips, the way her hair cascaded down over the lean smooth lines of her naked body He-

-Tristan flinched as she lowered again the lips of her pussy parting as it slid along the underside of his throbbing cock to rest at the small area between the base and balls. He could feel that she had gotten wet tormenting him like she had. She used the crop to tap the tip of cock a few more times.

He looked into her eyes and he could tell she wanted him, which was a relief because he really really wanted her right now, but not on her terms-damn it.

She raised up grazing her lips up along his length up to the throbbing stinging head. "Tell me about who sent you and this niece of theirs..." She then pushed down and Tristan tried to stop a moan from escaping his lips but couldn't as he watched the lips of her pussy spread wide to push over the broad head of his cock. God, she was so wet and tight and tight-did he mention how tight she felt just around his cockhead. He really needed to let loose but he couldn't get any leverage lying flat on the mattress and with his arms chained up.

He growled, "Jose, a buddy of mine from the corps. He's a Cuban immigrant and was trying to get his family into the states. They were getting into some trouble down there, and they had to try getting smuggled to Miami, but they never made it. Since the Marines I've been finding people and getting them out of trouble-mostly rich kids that fall into cults. I tracked down the smugglers and freed Jose's family, but they told me they sold one, his niece: Maria."

Why the hell was he telling her all this, and was she ever going to go any lower on his cock? It was pure sadistic torture worse than anything Al Qaeda or the Taliban could cook up. And why the hell was she asking him this if she was a part of it all?

She began to ease her self up and down over his cock so agonizingly slowly. "How do you know she was taken to Lord Ryan's auction?"

"Ah god, go lower-They told me the account they were paid from," He told her.

The crop came down hitting him on his left nipple then the other.

"Oww, Fuck," He groaned wishing he had his hands free. Then he'd turn the tables on her and give her a night she wouldn't ever forget. "It was from a dummy corporation, but they also rented several trucks. It was them I followed to the mansion."

She was teasing him lowering and raising herself in an impressive display of balance and strength up and down so slow. As far as being pumped for information it wasn't the worst interrogation he'd ever had. That fucking crop traced over the pattern of the tattoo on his arm again and across his chest and back up the other arm.

"Are you saying this Lord Ryan guy is the asshole in charge of it all?" He asked, "Is he the guy behind Del Toro Exports?"

 

[Sinful_whispers]

Clarissa listened as a moan here and there escaped his lips as she looked down upon him. he was fighting her as much as she was fighting back. I was a power struggle between them but she had the upper hand at the moment and was not prepared to give it up. Last time she had, her body was used and abused, broken and busted to the point of her almost not surviving. It was a damn good surgeon and medical team that saved her life plus a plastic surgeon. She had very little trust in a male and she sure didn't have it in the one who was currently under her with part of his cock inside her tight wet wanton hole.

She slowly worked part of him as she rode just past the head letting her own body adjust to his size. The man had a cock that any woman would love to ride and more so own. She got lucky with this one in many ways but first she needed to feel him out. They seemed to have this love hate relationship between them, they loved to hate each other at this point.

His voice was deep and almost sounded like he growled as he spoke to her. He was so filled with anger and she knew exactly how he felt in more ways than one. There was something about him that she needed to buy him, she didn't know what it was but the more she was around him the more her feelers told her she had made the right choice in her choosing. She wasn't even going to the auction but something in her gut told her to and she looked down and realized it was because of him.

"Jose, a buddy of mine from the corps. He's a Cuban immigrant and was trying to get his family into the states. They were getting into some trouble down there, and they had to try getting smuggled to Miami, but they never made it. Since the Marines I've been finding people and getting them out of trouble-mostly rich kids that fall into cults. I tracked down the smugglers and freed Jose's family, but they told me they sold one, his niece: Maria." He said to her as she tormented him by how her tight wet walls only took part of him as she slowly moved herself little by little up and down on only a small portion of his massive cock. It was the biggest in length and width that she ever had to ride by choice or by force.

She dropped a little lower on him and felt how he cracked her open even more as she gasped and waited for him to speak again to answer her questions before she even decided to give him any sort of freedom and even if she was to do that she still owned him. He wanted her to go lower as she pulled up, she wasn't going to till she was ready as she held the power.

Clarissa listened fully but she also watched how his body betrayed him, how his arousal grew with each tap of the leather to his flesh. He didn't realize that as she was torturing him, she was also doing the same to herself. "It was from a dummy corporation, but they also rented several trucks. It was them I followed to the mansion." he said as she swirled her hips around his cock letting him feel as her snatch twisted the stiff flesh as she rode it partially.

Clarissa was very interested in what he was saying because this would be how he Lord Ryan got his slaves. he always held the auctions, she normally went now and then just to look and she would always pick the worst male or female and buy them, heal and set free only IF they never told a soul anything if caught. They all swore to say they were re-sold or escaped. There has not been one that she has yet to see again at one of his damned actions.

If the man was an honest true master she would respect him but her past with him ruined her for any master she ever had in her future. She was marked by him, and he always told her she would forever remember him, and him her if she lived long enough to take another breath. His words were so true.

She closed her eyes and just pushed herself down further working him inside her, her walls still expanding to his girth and she would immediately pull up releasing a soft moan. Her head dropped back, as he would have another chance to see under her mask, she had a small scar under her right eye that usually was covered by make-up when she went out of when company came over. It couldn't be fixed but it nearly cost her the sight in her right eye. Clarissa moved the crop down his massive muscular arm again tapping the soft pliable leather tip against his flesh watching as it turn red in color. Even with his tan she loved how he looked under her, the red skin it was a turn on for her yet it wasn't anything that would scar just sting keeping his attention. She stopped and tapped the crop against his nipple, the nub already hard and she teased around it and then and repeated the same to the other and pondered how to answer him as she watched the traces of red move up along his other arm, feeling his cock throb and jump as it was still partly inside her.

Clarissa pulled herself up so just the fat knob was inside her and groaned. Her head rolled around her shoulders as she lifted it looking to him as her hair fell around her face. "Yes Lord Ryan, the one you call and asshole is in charge of this all. In all the years I can remember it was always he who had the slaves, it was he who is rich from selling them at these auctions all over the world. I believe he is the man you seek for this missing girl my pet."

It was then, she finally did it, she clenched her teeth and tossed her head back and she dropped her full weight down upon him taking every inch of his cock inside her as she let out a loud moan, one that was a mixture of pleasure and pain. Her head tossed forth as his turgid prick stretched her open wide. "Oh my fucking God." Clarissa said sitting on him fully as she looked at him taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly as her hips rolled stretching herself around his cock before she even attempted to ride him.

Clarissa leaned forth and placed her lips against his, her nipples rock hard pressed into his flesh as he could lightly feel her lips touching his. "You my pet have a gorgeous cock." Her knees began to lift her hips up as her cunt lips dragged along his pussy juice coated cock as she groaned taking her time enjoying the pleasure.

Her eye looked directly into his through the mask. It wasn't much of one but she now knew what he said had to be true it all made so much sense. But, now was not the time to talk about it for she was ready to tell a bit more to him only after she used him as a pleasure toy and pleasure it was. "I believe you, we need to speak and I will fill you in on what I know. I will fill you in on why I buy slaves. I am taking a chance that could cost me my life as well as many other's. But for now my pet I want to ride you and cum all over what is mine." Her voice was calm yet very direct.

She placed the crop aside him as she pushed up and raked her long nails along his sides as she sat directly up upon him, her breasts bounced upon her chest. her nipples were erect and very noticeable, they were not small nor were they large but he couldn't miss how they starred at him from those pools of light brown circling them. "God, this is going to be one hell of a test ride." she groaned as she placed her hands behind her upon his knees and bent his cock back slightly, letting her swollen clit be seen as it stuck out from beyond her swollen shaven lips as she moaned and moved her hips taking him in another position realizing no matter which he was going to pierce her beyond her inner core.

He really could have fought her of and won getting the remote from her but he never tried. He could have stopped her and didn't, he could have used her as a hostage to get out and most likely would have won. Her servants would never place her in harms way they would protect her so they would have left him go if he freed her.

Clarissa pushed forth and looked at him, she ran her hands over her breasts and pinched her nipples pulling them, stretching them as she lifted her breasts and left them fall and bounce as she grabbed the crop and reached back slapping the sides of his thighs, as she sat on him. "have you realized yet you like when I snap you with the crop? I feel your cock jump inside me. I feel your hips lift pet from the bed trying to get me to fuck you till we both cum. "

Leaning over him she reached and pulled the key from its hidden space and un did his hands from the manacles. Then pushed back looking down to him. "Make your Mistress cum my pet." She was trusting him as she was sitting impaled on his cock as she grabbed that crop and slapped it against his thighs again, moving it along them.

In her mind she trusted this man, he could help her on her mission and she could give him all the info he needed. "Do NOT disappoint me..." Clarissa said as she leaned forth and curled her fingers over his shoulders showing him she has trust in him as she released his hands. SHe always took chances and she was taking a big one now as her ass began to bounce up and down on his cock. "Fuck me pet...fuck your Owner.." she said as she bit his nipples tugging it between her teeth.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Tristan Clark

She was teasing him lowering and raising herself in an impressive display of balance and strength up and down so slow. As far as being pumped for information it wasn't the worst interrogation he'd ever had. That fucking crop traced over the pattern of the tattoo on his arm again and across his chest and back up the other arm.

"Are you saying this Lord Ryan guy is the asshole in charge of it all?" He asked, "Is he the guy behind Del Toro Exports?"

Tristan groaned again as she lowered down his long shaft again stopping with just a centimeter of him deeper inside of a pussy so tight it felt like a boa-constrictor was wrapping around his dick. He could see her lips open wide to fit the width of his enormous cock. Clarissa had to be feeling like he was splitting her apart yet with supreme confidence she raised herself up until only the tip remained within her sex and then lowered back down a hair lower once more. As she did he saw her eyes close and head tip back and then lower to slowly rise once more with a soft breathy moan matching the need-filled growl the motion ripped from him combined with the clinks of the chains as his hands pulled on the cuffs. He knew he wasn't going to break them-he'd already tried enough times-but reflexively he needed to put his hands on her, those breasts that bounced and shook before his eyes with each movement she made begging for his touch. Or to take her by the hips and push her all the way down to the balls.

"Stop teasing me," He ground out through clenched teeth, "Do it." There was a sliver of space under her mask and with her head tipped back like it was Tristan could see the part of her face the mask had concealed. He could see a pale scar just under her right eye and curving over her cheek. Paradoxically the thought of anyone giving her that scar or the ones he saw on her back filled him with a scalding white-hot fury and need to break, batter, and disembowel the man responsible. Ludicrous feeling since Clarissa Dumas was his enemy here, but that was how he felt at the sight of that scar. The chains clinked again.

In reaction to his words that never-to-be-sufficiently-damned crop she was using to trace the straining muscles of his arms as he futilely pulled the chains struck him again. The stinging flash of pain made his cock surge within her.

Fuck that stung. Tristan wished she'd lay off that fucking crop.

She raised back up and used the crop's tip to trace circles around the hard pebbles of his nipples and then struck them hard.

"Oww," He roared, "Fuck!" Each strike sent ripples of sensation all the way to his manhood. His cock was throbbing harder and stiffer than he'd ever seen it and then Clarissa raised up until only the tip remained inside of her.

"Yes Lord Ryan, the one you call an asshole is in charge of this all," She groaned rolling her head until her brown hair fell like the flow of a water in a waterfall over her masked face and shoulders and her heaving breasts, "In all the years I can remember it was always he who had the slaves, it was he who is rich from selling them at these auctions all over the world. I believe he is the man you seek for this missing girl my pet."

"The let me go," He told her tugging on the chains again, "Release me and I swear I'll take him dow-Ooooh!"

Instead of letting him finish she lowered her tight hot sweet pussy all the way down his massive length to the base. His eyes nearly rolled up into his head as the feeling of heaven overtook him. At the same time her head rolled back and then forward flailing her hair in its wake with a deep groan that merged with his own. "Oh my fucking God."

He was stuffed all the way inside of her. Every fold and nook and cranny within her filled to the brim. Her sex was stretched right against his hard throbbing cock. He could feel the wall of her womb right against his tip. He groaned as she began rolling her hips in circles over his pelvis. The act grinding her clitoris against his pubic bone at the same time moving the stretched folds of her pussy around his throbbing cock.

"You my pet have a gorgeous cock." She said leaning forward her breasts brushing over his heaving chest. She planted her lips onto his in a fiery possessive kiss he surprised himself by returning with equal heat.

As they kissed she raised up slow dragging her engorged sex up his shaft. The kiss was broken as the both groaned at the glorious sensations it caused.

"I believe you, we need to speak and I will fill you in on what I know," She said with her eyes auguring deep into his own, "I will fill you in on why I buy slaves. I am taking a chance that could cost me my life as well as many other's. But for now my pet I want to ride you and cum all over what is mine."

Her tone was calm but assertive. It brooked no chance that what she said would not come to pass. It was as certain as sunrise in the morning.

He looked at her and deep into those chocolate brown eyes. He had stopped pulling on his chains.

Then She raised the hand holding that damned riding crop. He winced expecting it to flash down and strike him once more, but she laid it to one side of them on the bed. Her hands laid over his chest and lifted herself up while dragging her nails down in long red streaks to where they were joined together.

Arching his back into it he growled from the pain of the scratches, "Ow, fuck!" He looked up at her sitting atop him chest heaving nipples as hard as tacks from having him embedded to the hilt within her. It was the most erotic thing he'd ever seen. She was the most erotic thing he'd ever known. Most women when they got a glimpse of his size treated his cock like it was a coiled rattlesnake that at any moment would lunge out at them. That wasn't the case with his mist-with Clarissa Dumas. Even though she'd be sure to feel sore from stretching open and the pounding she'll take in any fucking to come in the morning she wasn't the least bit afraid of his size.

She leaned backwards placing her hands behind her on his thighs giving him a view of her stretched open sex up her flat but flexing belly to her heaving chest between the valley of her breast to her masked face as she ground out mostly to herself, "God, this is going to be one hell of a test ride."

"Jesus," He swore biting his lip as she sat back up and gazed down at him erotically. She played with and lifted her breasts. He watched as she took and twisted and pulled her nipples making more of the little circles over him.

"have you realized yet you like when I snap you with the crop," She said reaching out and picking the crop back up.

"Don't-" He growled, but she leaned back and smacked the crop against his thigh hard. He swore again back arching and hips lifting up off the bedsheets his cock throbbing within her wet clutching heat, "-Stop it."

"I feel your cock jump inside me," She told him mercilessly, "I feel your hips lift pet from the bed trying to get me to fuck you till we both cum."

He shook his head violently on the pillow in denial. "You're wrong. I am not that type of man..." He wasn't weak. He wasn't the type of man that let anyone especially a woman smack him around and like it. Yet he couldn't deny that what she said was true. He did want her to fuck him until they both exploded like sticks of dynamite. Who could blame him when here she was sitting atop him his wildest wet dreams in flesh and blood reality.

She leaned over him reaching up to the bed's headboard. It left her breast hanging over his face and he strained his neck desperately to lick at her nipple. He didn't realize what she was doing until the cuff on his right wrist opened and she shifted over him to free his left wrist. As she did Tristan's arm wrapped over him but paused when his fingers came into contact with the lines of scar tissue running over her back.

She lifted up and looked down into his eyes. "Make your Mistress cum my pet."

He lay there unmoving for a moment trapped like a deer in the headlights. Then that damned crop came down striking his thigh again just as hard before. As before his back arched and his hips lifted but this time she let him push in and out of her. It was heaven.

"Do NOT disappoint me..." She demanded leaning forward planting her hands on his broad shoulders. Leaning into him Clarissa lifted her ass up until he was afraid she was about to pull off of him. His hands came up to the cheeks of her toned ass to stop her ascent. Yet the moment he did she slammed it back down. "Fuck me pet...fuck your Owner.."

In answer to that Tristan's heels dug into the bedspread and his hips vaulted up driving his massive cock deep back into her. Their bodies met with the loud clapping of flesh to flesh of fierce fucking. Mutual fucking. Unbridled and wild fucking.

He swore again as she ducked her head down and her teeth clamped down on one of his nipples and pulled painfully. It drove him past any control and he pistoned inside her all the way pounding into it like a battering ram.

 

[Sinful_whispers]

Clarissa loved how good this new pet of hers felt under her. There was nothing about him she didn’t like; even his cocky attitude was a turn on. His build was a plus as was the tattoo. She rode him hard and fast, the pain was egging her on to keep that fast pace. Each time he slid back into her and filled her to her inner core she would moan out in pleasure.

Clarissa had a fucked up part within her where she thrived on pain when it came to sex which was why his size was a huge benefit for her. The girl she once was became a slave to pain, until she met him and he abused her to the point where the pain was brutal and he was the only one that got off on beating her to the edge of her life. Clarissa would heal partially and he would do it all over again for his amusement.

Pushing those thoughts from her head she concentrated again on the man under her who had his hands upon her as she tossed her head back and left out a loud moan. A moan of pleasure and pain combined as he continued to pile drive her cunt, stretching her open as her slick juices coated his cock. “M-m-m-m-m…god…yes-s-s-s…” she said as her hips raised up and she rode that fat knob of his before her hips dropped down hard and he pierced her deep feeling him slide within her cervix as her head tossed forth and her mark slid up a bit more.

Clarissa didn’t even realize his fingertips were moving along her scars; then again she wouldn’t have because those scars were numb, and she had no feeling within them. They were a reminder of her past, the girl she once was. Clarissa felt him dig his heels into the bed as she looked down to him and as she felt him drive into her again impaling her on his massive cock she arched her back, her breasts pushed forth as she yanked upon his nipples with her fingertips and thumbs pinching them and pulling them hard.

He was strong; there wasn’t a weak bone within his body. Then again there were many men just like him that thrived on pain during sex, which enjoyed that pleasure as they got off taking them to a higher point of orgasm. Clarissa was one of them; they were two of a kind in so many ways. She liked placing the pain and he seemed to enjoy it.

Clarissa was reaching that point as her body felt almost numb, she cried out as he stabbed her again and again, each time she met him with fully weight dropping down hard. There wasn’t an inch within her cunt that the man’s cock didn’t touch. “F-fuck-k…” she said as her body bucked and arched again, she pushed down on him hard and that last thrust up into her pushed her over the edge as she cried out moaning as her whole body shook and trembled as she came.

The orgasm rocked her whole body hard as she gasped and nearly couldn’t breathe. Her long nails raked along his chest, she was careful around his tattoo, for she wasn’t evil enough to want to ruin the design by scaring him like she was. Clarissa rode him hard still she wanted that next orgasm that was coming up fast. Her eyes closed as she reached for the crop and slapped it against his nipples, one after another then along his stomach, his thighs as she cried out in excitement.

Her pet’s meat was throbbing within her, she could feel how sore she was feeling from the man’s size as her juices helped ease that sensation as she gasped and reached back and slapped each of his inner thighs and looked to him, “Cum pet, cum with me…” she said reaching that pleasure point again as she continued to use the crop on him egging her second orgasm on as she cried out and moaned all in the same, twisting those sounds together as sweat build on her brow, along her slender form under the outfit.

 

[Veroe]

IC: Tristan Clark

He swore again as she ducked her head down and her teeth clamped down on one of his nipples and pulled painfully. It drove him past any control and he pistoned inside her all the way pounding into it like a battering ram.

Tristan was bucking up into her. His hips rising an inch off the austere white bedsheets. His back arched like a spring about to break. His heels dug into the bed in his demands for even more leverage as thrust his brutally enormous hard cock within her faster and deeper and rougher. Sweat was beginning to form over the firm contours of his muscles as they flexed and strained under the demands he was pushing them to in order to viciously fuck Clarissa Dumas-no, as she was pushing him to fuck her so viciously.

His hands roamed down over the traces of her scars to grope and manhandled the firm curve of her ass, but they didn't stop her from being just as vicious in her fucking of him. Her back arch and hips raised over the long length of him and then slamming back down to collide with his pelvis on every thrust inside of her. The collision of their bodies made a staccato clapping sound they performed in a beautiful symphony of percussive and aggressive beauty.

She let go of his nipple and tossed her hair back so those magnificent tresses of brunette silk flailed across her scarred back. She moaned out loud in one breath without slowing down her fucking of his cock, “M-m-m-m-m…god…yes-s-s-s…”

Her hips raised until only the broad plum of his cockhead was within her and Tristan's hands tried to push her back down. She didn't budge. Clarissa merely began to roll and swing her hips rubbing the stretched wide lips of her cunt over his cockhead and rim. The motions sent decadent and wicked sensations up his central nervous system to explode in his brain ripping out a string of obscenities from his lungs in unison to hers, "O-o-oh...god..J-jesus...F-fuck me...F-fuck..."

Her head tossed as they began their mutual fucking eachother's brains out again. Her hands were planted on his pecs, fingers spread wide to give her the broadest foundation to support their wildly thrusting and rocking bodies. Her breasts hung over his face as the swayed and bounced from the frenzy of their fucking. One hand took one in its grasp squeezing and molding it, a little more viciously than he had ever done with any previous lover, but this one didn't deserve softness...she demanded more truth than kid gloves from him.

Tristan was angry with her, and he wanted to make it hurt...and in turn he wanted it to hurt him as well. Was this what he was underneath? A brute? Scum of the Earth that mauled women during the throes of passion? Is this what she had revealed him to be?

“F-fuck-k…” She roared her body bucking and arching over his straining body. Tristan felt her tight envelop around his pistoning cock convulse and a flood of her juices run down over his balls and thighs.

"Jesus," He groaned in pleasure, desperate to keep from joining her in climax.

It wasn't because she had not said he could come yet. No, he wasn't her slave no matter what she said he was, and he didn't need pain like she said he did either. He wasn't that man. He wanted-no-he needed to believe that.

So he gritted his teeth and growled/groaned as she rocked and convulsed riding out an orgasm that registered somewhere around seven on the Richter scale. Jesus, how could anyone that could fit all of him get even tighter around him?

And then she began again harder still, and Tristan met her thrust for thrust. She reared up and her hand shot out grabbing the crop she laid to one side.

"Don't! Wait!" His hand shot out grabbing her wrist, but he couldn't hold her. She broke free and that god-damned crop struck him once again, right on the nipple that was still smarting from the biting she gave it earlier.

"Fuck," He swore as the sting jolted through him. It also made his cock throb within her and push him right to the edge of letting loose, but he wouldn't-mustn't yet. Then she added the other nipple for balance's sake, and then his abs the soft flesh of his inner thigh. He was hanging off the ledge by his fingers and each kiss of that damned crop was her stomping on each finger one by one until he fell into the abyss below.

“Cum pet," She ordered him slamming down on his cock, "Cum with me…” She began to climax again. Jumping off the ledge to pull him into the churning abyss with her.

He wasn't that man.

He roared in defiant fury shooting upright in bed and clamping his hand onto her wrist. "I am not your fucking slave," He glared into her eyes.

He rolled over pinning her underneath him. His other hand reached the damned remote control to the shock collar before hers. He stopped any words by doing something he wanted to do for a long time. His lips planted against hers silencing her as his tongue invaded within and dueled a duel of honor with hers. He kept thrusting within her with all his rage, his despair, his lust for this woman. Harder and faster his cock drove within her like a demon possessed. He wanted to punish her for making him her slave, and he wanted to punish himself for her not being full of shit about him either.