Chapter 8

This time when I handed him my work he smiled as though what he read pleased him. I did not trust him, however, so I did not smile back in case he was making an effort to trick me into believing he approved of my efforts. I was still concerned I had been doing wrong, that my story was not what he wanted from me. I waited impatiently, and yet seemingly quite patiently, while he read. I sat up straight even though he did not tell me to, and I did not move because I thought my being still would placate any anger my words might inspire in him. I could not stop myself worrying about what he might say and the nervous clenching of my stomach, for I had used the word cunt again, and more than once.

Finally, he set the pages down on the floor and asked me if I wanted to suck him. I was not sure what to say or do. It seemed impossible for me to make a decision. Why had he not just commanded me to suck me? I felt ashamed that I had believed myself cured. How could I be better if I could not decide how to answer him? Suddenly, without thinking, as though being mindless was the only way of effectively directing my actions, I dropped onto all fours and pressed my face clumsily against his groin. I struggled to undo his trousers, panicking because they would not come undone, but as I took hold of his cock and started licking his cool glans, he pulled himself away abruptly and stood up.

As he left he shook his head in despair and I felt he was condemning me as a lost cause, as hopeless and beyond redemption, and I knew I had failed again. I should have shown him I could resist. Of course, that was what he was checking to see, what he was trying to find out, if I could hold back, and I had failed the test dismally. I hoped he would not give up on me. I prayed he would not abandon me, not now, not after all I had been through, not after I had come this far.

I waited for him to return, sitting up straight against the wall beside the door, trying to please him even though he could not see me. I thought that when he came back and found me there he would be pleased with me and would let me suck him, not as a test but as a reward for my good behaviour.

When he finally did return, he brought extra paper and some fresh pencils. He placed them at the opposite corner of the room away from the door, and told me to start working again straightaway, and not stop until he returned again. I crawled across the floor on my hands and knees as he stood by the door watching me, and when he closed it, I huddled in the corner and began writing again.

I was dozing, and woke up with a start when the taxi driver opened the door the next morning. It had not been locked. I do not remember when Galen left, when either of them left, all I know is I was alone all night, tied up in an unlocked cab parked in a dimly lit district of the city, at the mercy of anyone who happened to pass by and felt like making use of my body. It seemed a miracle no one at all had molested me.

The driver leered in where I hung, still stretched out between the two leather straps, my skirt pulled up around my waist, dried semen glistening on the insides of my thighs. I felt ashamed of my exposed and vulnerable position and tried to bring my free leg up to protect myself from his gaze, but he pushed it down. My arms and leg were numb and my bottom was still throbbing dully from the vicious spanking he had given me. He slipped into the back, knelt between my thighs and unzipped his trousers. I kicked out at him with my free leg and writhed against the seat in an effort to force him away. He sat back, startled by my resistance. He clearly assumed he could take me again, as though we had become lovers. I kicked out at him again, but this time he slipped an arm beneath my hips, lifted my bottom and spanked me hard. I knew it was punishment for refusing him, for holding back, and as the stinging pain merged with the aching need in my pussy, I felt my muscles relaxing and went limp to let him know I was ready for him now.

He noticed my capitulation, but did not stop spanking me, swatting his hand down harder with every blow he subjected me to. I bit my lip and waited, knowing he would not stop until he saw the glow of jagged redness produced by a hard and deliberate spanking. Finally he dropped me against the seat, pulled his cock out, leaned over me and forced himself into my mouth. I sucked him, taking him deep between my lips, and as soon as his throbbing tip grazed the back of my throat I felt the surge of his orgasm. I prepared to swallow his seed, but he pulled out of my mouth and sprayed it all over my throat and vest. Then he zipped up his trousers, got out of the taxi again and slammed the door behind him.

I closed my eyes, frightened and excited, wondering what would happen to me next as I imagined a total stranger opening the door and using me...

He slipped into the driver’s seat and drove the cab out of the derelict area where it had sat all night with me bound helplessly inside. I felt shy about anyone looking in and seeing me, still tied with my legs spread out across the back seat, my buttocks red from a fresh spanking and my vest damp and sticky with semen. Every corner we turned made my stomach churn with nerves as I dreaded people looking in and gawping and pointing at me. The thought was unbearable.

The cab stopped suddenly at the end of a narrow alley, and leaning out of the window the driver shouted at two men who stood talking beside a dustbin. I shivered as a dark feeling of foreboding welled up inside me. I twisted my wrists frantically against the restraining strap, but it would not loosen; I was held fast.

The two men approached the car, laughing and shoving each other playfully, very much like excited schoolboys. One was taller than the other, and it was he who bent down to speak to the driver. He peered into the back, and saw me still struggling against the straps. For a second I glared, challenging him, and when he reached in through the window and grabbed my ankle I turned my face towards the seat and struggled wildly. But the straps still did not give and my efforts only caused my limbs to ache even more.

The other man leaned down to stare at me through the back window, and I knew I was to be their victim. There was no escape. They would do with me whatever they desired. I pulled against the strap holding my wrists just to feel the tension, just to feel how restrained I was, just to relish the impossibility of freeing myself. I stretched my fingers and twisted my body, writhing like a captive animal slung on a pole borne by natives, the prize of a successful hunt.

The back door opened, and to me it sounded like the creaking of a door to a condemned person’s cell. I shivered as I felt a draft of air against my skin and a warm hand touched my free ankle, its fingers wrapping around it and forming a tight, living manacle. I shook my leg, trying to kick the hand away, but its grip only tightened relentlessly. I pressed my face against the seat, bit my lip and kicked again with all my strength. This time I succeeded in breaking the grip of the man holding me, and he actually groaned in pain as my foot sank into some soft part of his anatomy.

I sensed their anger, but also their indecision. They seemed unable to decide just how much force to use against me. They were unsure of themselves, and I took advantage of their weakness to kick again as hard as I could. I heard a curse and felt more of their uncertainty, but also more of their anger. Someone pulled at my ankle hanging from the leather strap, and although my leg flexed and twisted, my ankle stayed fixed firmly in place... until I suddenly felt the strap give slightly.

I was like a prisoner glimpsing a chink of light in the wall of her dark cell; the slight slackening of my bonds suddenly gave me hope. I screwed my eyes shut and kicked with all my strength, gasping and panting from the strain. I kicked frantically, exhausting myself as I heard the men shouting at me and at each other, but I did not feel their hands on me. I stopped struggling for a second to listen as a cornered animal might pause, its heart hammering against its ribs, seconds before it is caught by wolves. I could hear nothing, and then suddenly they pressed my face down against the seat and all I could think about was how they were planning to fuck me, and how often.

My pussy was helplessly exposed, its soft depths utterly open to them, and I felt their hungry eyes on it. I squirmed, but now I did not consider trying to escape. I tensed my muscles against what was coming, but the tightening of my thighs and the pulling together of my buttocks only served to increase the moistening glow of anticipation in my cunt.

The leather strap around my wrists was undone, but immediately my free leg was pulled up with the other one and firmly secured. They lifted my face away from the seat and draped my head and shoulders back over the seat towards the floor of the taxi. I hung suspended on the strap by my ankles, panting and frightened, my head spinning. Rough hands groped my buttocks, feeling their smooth surface and the taut tension below the skin, and then a hand forced itself between my thighs, creating a big enough space to enable another hand to press flat against my pussy. I swallowed my fear as fingers probed me, searching out the conventional entrance to my body before working back and fingering my anus. Then I gasped in pain as a punishing hand fell across my buttocks. One man spanked me as the other knelt on the seat and held his cock down in front of my face. I watched it throbbing as he rubbed it, and as his companion spanked me faster and harder I obediently flicked my tongue out and licked the swollen glans looming over me. I touched the tip of the stranger’s erection and felt its heat, tasting the salty tang as it ran like a flood up its length and out through the sensitive rift. I licked it, my tongue keeping breathless time with the spanking hand making my bottom burn unbearably, and as I caught the white wave of sperm cresting out of the pulsing cock pressing against my lips, I felt another rush of viscous liquid running down my bottom cheeks and slipping into their cleft. The man kept spanking me as he came, smacking his open palm against his own sticky semen as it trickled over my buttocks and between my cheeks.

As if in a dream I heard the cab door slam shut, and they were gone. Then the taxi was moving again.

I managed to wriggle my ankles out of the strap and sit up, my head spinning. Miraculously I found a clean tissue on the seat and wiped my sticky face and buttocks with it. I sat up straighter, and winced as contact with the seat stung my aching bottom. I eased my skirt down and sat with my cheek resting against the cool window frame, staring intently out at the world as warm air blew threw my hair. Instead of feeling ashamed, I felt serene and expectant, as if I was being taken somewhere secret and very special on the orders of my mysterious master. I watched the city streets flash by like photographs in an album. I looked at the crowds gathered together in knots outside cafes, I saw tourists holding their cameras to their eyes and lovers embracing with the keenness of new romance. I was intrigued that none of these people knew what was happening to me. All of them were unaware of my daring contract with Galen, of the bargain I had made with him to expose myself to all my fears and risk everything to conquer them and unleash my deepest, darkest desires.

By the time we pulled up outside Galen’s house it was very hot. The driver waited for me to get out of the cab, and then led the way, still without deigning to look at me. I felt as though I had misbehaved and was now being taken to my master’s lair to be punished. I hung my head, trying to show my shame, and my stomach filled with excited butterflies. I pictured myself as a servant girl being marched to the master’s study for a caning. I tugged my skirt down as far as I could as if trying to protect my naked bottom from what I knew it was about to receive, perfectly aware that he would lift my skirt before the punishment began. My flesh tingled with anticipation and I felt the pressure of my hardening nipples against the thin material of my vest.

Galen was standing at the foot of the spiral staircase. The taxi driver walked straight over to him. My master held up his hand, instructing me to wait at a distance. My stomach churned with excitement again as I watched the driver speak to him, directly in his ear. They both looked over at me a couple of times during the brief conversation, and then Galen patted him on the shoulder and pressed some money into his hand. The driver smiled, and without looking at me again, left the house.

Galen slowly ran his fingers through his hair. He pursed his lips as if considering my fate, and his dark eyes were obscured as he narrowed them in pensive consternation. I imagined him wondering how many strokes of the cane to give me, whether I had been sufficiently disobedient to deserve six or whether I should only get four. I looked around to see what he might tell me to bend over, but there was no particularly suitable furniture in sight. Perhaps he would make me bend over and hold my ankles, a position that would make my bottom taut and vulnerable. Or perhaps he would order me onto my hands and knees on the marble bench. The smoothness of the stone would be perfect. I could pull my vest up and bare my breasts and lie across it relishing the cold hardness against my nipples. I would let him pull up my skirt as high as he wanted, and I would feel the thin material folding across my bottom as he bared it in readiness for my deserved punishment. I would tighten my buttocks together so the cane would strike only them, so the delicate flesh of my pussy would be protected, and the firmness of my clenched bottom cheeks would make the strokes land even more painfully. My lips were dry imagining all this, and as I licked them I felt the warmth of my breath as it passed over them in anxious gasps of anticipation.

He approached me, still scratching his head in a theatrical parody of perplexity, which strangely enough struck me as genuine. Perhaps he was not sure what to punish me for, since I had misbehaved so much lately. My resistance back in the cab was a mistake. I knew that now. But I had been taken by surprise then, not realising Galen did not need to be present in order for me to obey him. Yet I did not want to apologise, to wriggle out of my punishment. I wanted to be chastised. I wanted to be caned, to be bent over and painfully humiliated for my behaviour. I wanted the taxi driver to come back and watch me being beaten, and if Galen ordered, I wanted him to also take the cane and thrash me for as long as he wanted to.

My handsome master finally smiled and nodded at me knowingly. ‘Syra, my pet, what have you been doing? You have not been doing what you promised me you would. Have you? You have not been truly bad. You have been resisting your wickedness and fearing it, haven’t you?’

I wanted to say I was sorry and that it would not happen again. I wanted to tell him I would take my punishment now and do better in the future, but my throat was too dry to enable me to speak.

‘I wonder why this is?’ he continued, almost as if talking to himself. ‘Have you forgotten your contract with me? Surely not.’

I wanted to pull up my vest, bend over the marble bench and take my punishment as I pressed my breasts against the cold stone, but he had not told me to move, so I did not move.

‘Answer me, Syra.’

‘It was only at first,’ I explained quietly, ‘because you were not there. I did not want to do anything unless you told me to do it... and you were not there...’

‘Syra, my pet, don’t you realise yet that I am always there? There is nothing you can do now that I have not instructed you to do.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘Really, Syra, you can be so innocent. Do you think I would have left you alone by mistake?’

I felt incredibly stupid. Unable to meet his hypnotically dark gaze, I walked towards the bench and looked down at it. I rubbed my hand across my belly, lifting the bottom edge of my vest slightly, waiting to be told to bare my breasts so the punishment I craved could begin. Being caned was all I could think of.

‘Syra, it is time for you to make a complete commitment to me. Here,’ he extended his hand towards me, ‘if you take my hand I will know you are sure you wish to go forward, that there will be no more holding back.’

I touched my knee to the hard edge of the bench. I wanted to feel how unyielding it was by pressing my soft breasts against it. I wanted to know how solid the smooth surface would feel beneath me as each deliberate blow of the cane cut into my taut buttocks and I jerked beneath the impact in blinding agony. I pressed my leg harder against the edge, imagining how I would push my thighs against it, feeling its strength.

‘Syra!’ he said curtly, as if he knew I was lost in a dream of discipline, as if he knew he had to wake me in case I slipped so deeply into a reverie of punishment it would be impossible ever to rouse me again. ‘Syra,’ he repeated firmly.

‘Yes...’ I whispered, still pressing my leg against the bench, my mind consumed by images of the delightful pain I realised now would not come. ‘Please,’ I sighed, looking over at him. ‘Please help me to be bad, master.’

‘Yes, my pet, I will, but from now on even if I am not there you have to remember that I am still with you. I always know everything you do, in every detail. Remember, I am always watching you.’

‘Please,’ I repeated desperately. ‘Please...’ I felt a rush of excitement as he approached abruptly, and turning me around, forced me down on my knees and pressed me against the cold bench. I felt him pulling up my skirt and exposing my buttocks, but I did not count how many times his hand swept down against them. I thought only of what other things he had in store for me, knowing that as he led me to my destiny he would always be watching.

Just when he stopped spanking me - when he judged my punishment sufficient for my misbehaviour - Eve appeared. For some reason she looked drained.

Galen told her to help me shower, and she obediently took my arm and led me up the staircase and towards the red and green doors. I did not turn to look back at our master. I heard him walking up behind us, and I did not have to check any more to make sure his eyes were on me. The pet opened the red door and then stared at it with glazed eyes, as though slowly realising her mistake but incapable of doing anything to correct it.

The room I looked into was white and sterile and cold. There was a chair in the centre made entirely of brightly polished steel, and upon it Cleo sat naked, her wrists manacled to the arms and her ankles affixed to the legs with metal rings. Her mouth was forced wide open by a metal ball and she was staring straight ahead as though at a distant horizon with wide, glazed eyes. The image was burnt into my mind, the bright light and the metallic coldness of the space contrasting with the supple warmth of her naked body pinned down and unmoving, a startled look frozen on her gaping countenance.

Galen moved quickly and shut the door, obliterating the sinister picture... but it was branded into my brain forever. There was a moment of uneasy silence, a pause filled with terrible anticipation, and then Galen unleashed his anger as I watched Eve shrinking away from him, backing against the wall, into a corner, sliding slowly down to the floor until her buttocks were pressed against her heels. She looked up at him apologetically, beseechingly, as though she had been punished before for the same mistake and knew exactly what was in store - and dreaded it.

‘See to Syra,’ he said quietly, composing himself. ‘Make her ready.’

She nodded hurriedly, obviously afraid he might reconsider, afraid he might find something else she had done wrong and punish her swiftly and cruelly without a second thought. She got up and hurried past him, avoiding the slightest proximity to his menacingly tense body. Taking my arm she opened the green door and led me into a bathroom, and I could feel her hand trembling.

I had not wished to see the pet threatened like this. I had not wanted to see her weakness and her fear, but now I knew she was not as powerful as I believed, I relished her downfall. I had thought of her as somehow better then me, more elegant, more at ease and more fearless, but now I knew if I followed Galen’s instructions I could easily surpass her. When she passed me the razor and a large towel, I imagined her as a maidservant enslaved to her mistress, and considered telling her to shave me. I would watch her closely, hoping to find an error in her performance, and even if I had no reason to I would strike her with the flat of my hand before she had time to realise what was happening. After that she would flinch when I merely looked at her, and I would smile with satisfaction each time I saw the fear I so easily instilled.

After shaving carefully between my legs I took a welcome shower, cleansing myself beneath the torrent of water. Then I knelt on the floor wrapped in the towel while she combed my wet hair, pulling it out to its full length, holding it in her hand to comb through it again. Her gestures were lazy and I wanted to tell her to be more vigorous. Finally she wrapped a red velvet band around my forehead and tied it beneath my hair at the nape of my neck. Her hands trembled slightly as she caressed my cheek before leaving the room. I did not move. I knew I was waiting for something to happen and possibilities dashed through my mind... I thought about Cleo sitting in the room next door. I thought about Espartaco facing a deadly bull... but then Galen entered, followed by the pet, and my mind went blank.

He stood in front of me as she bent and pulled the red band down over my eyes. It fitted across them perfectly. I could see nothing as the white-tiled world of the bathroom was suddenly replaced with blackness. I was not startled, though; it seemed natural to me, in a way it was a relief from the brightness of the clean space. I succumbed to the blindfold almost gratefully, letting my eyes close and welcoming the absence of light as a dreamer welcomes the absence of wakefulness.

My hair was lifted away from my neck, and I could tell it was Eve’s hands; the touch of her fingers familiar to me now. She stroked my neck with her fingertips as she gathered my hair and held it up, teasing out the straight wet strands and bunching them together again in her hands. I felt the tension in my scalp as she pulled my hair and held it tight so not a single strand would escape and fall back down to my shoulders. I felt the skin of my temples being strained as she pulled on my roots, and experienced a slight tingling in the back of my neck as weaker, shorter hairs complained beneath the strain.

I stretched my shoulders back and absorbed the tension of the wet towel wrapped around me. It felt like a carapace enclosing me in its shell, preventing my emergence into the light and warmth of my life’s darkly enchanted springtime with Galen. I twisted my shoulders and felt the fluffy material loosen. I wriggled my shoulders again, and the terrycloth fell away, catching for a moment on my bottom before descending to my supine calves and the upturned soles of my feet. I wanted to be free of it altogether. I did not want it touching my skin any more, but I did not dare move more than I already had.

I parted my knees slightly as Eve worked silently with my hair. She was plaiting it tightly, weaving it together in three thick strands that began close to the top of my head. She was braiding it into a tightly erect pillar, rising from my head like a spike. She played with the last few strands, carefully bending them into each other and stretching the plait to the very end of the longest hairs. Then she stopped and I imagined her standing back to admire her work, touching the upright braid to ensure it was perfectly vertical. Her hand slipped beneath my elbow, encouraging me to stand, and the towel fell aside as I got up off my knees. Slowly she led me forward towards the green door. I could still picture it in my mind and I knew if wanted me to go through it I would have to bend to accommodate my new hairstyle.

I straightened up again as she led me across the cool wooden floor. I pictured the space in my mind - the exposed balcony on my right, the top of the spiral staircase on my left and, in the centre of the room, the raised wooden platform. I wondered if she was leading me out onto the balcony. I wondered if Galen had decided I must be tested again before I could progress further. Or was I to be taken naked out into the street? Was I to be like the girl I had watched with the two men, held up against a dirty wall in a dimly lit alley?

I felt a light pressure on my elbow holding me back, telling me to stop. I sensed the weight of my hair tipping my head forward slightly and held my chin up to keep the braid straight. My cheeks flushed as I felt Galen’s breath against them, alternately warming each one with his slow exhalations and stroking them with his essence. I did not move, and suddenly his hand was between my legs and his upturned palm was cradling my cunt. I felt shocked by the suddenness of his touch, but my surprise was immediately consumed by an overwhelming physical joy. His hand was warm and completely covered my pussy. I wanted him to lift me up on it. I wanted him to press his palm firmly against me and lift me up off the floor. But as suddenly as he had put it there, he withdrew his hand, and the wetness it left behind cooled my achingly warm flesh. I lowered my head and once again felt the braid tipping forward slightly. He held his hand against my mouth as if telling me to remain silent, and then drew it down and parted my lips with his fingertips until my mouth was gaping open. He let me stand there for a moment with my lips as far apart as they could go, and then he slid something between my teeth.

I felt the weight of a leather ball on my tongue, heavy behind my teeth. Unable to breathe through my mouth any more, I inhaled through my nostrils. The quick intake of breath nearly made me gag on the ball, and I swallowed hard as I pressed my tongue against it to keep it as far forward as possible. I felt the sides of my mouth crease inwards as a cord leading from each side of the heavy sphere was pulled tightly around my face and tied behind my neck, drawing my mouth even more firmly around the ball and pinching my cheeks painfully beneath the tension. I felt my head nodding forward and realised someone was weaving something into the top of my upright plait. I was urged forward a step, and feeling a hard edge against my toes, I realised I was standing next to the raised platform in the middle of the room.

I did not know if I was frightened or excited. Everything was so strange, so new and confusing for me. I could not make sense of everything I had experienced since arriving in Spain. I wanted to ask what was going to happen to me. Even though I knew the answer would not change anything, I still wanted to know. But, somehow, I could not even form the question in my mind much less utter it with a leather ball stuffed into my mouth. Then, as though I had asked him about my future aloud, as though he could read my mind and formed the question for me, Galen provided the answer.

‘Everything you have ever desired, Syra, my pet,’ he promised me. ‘Everything you have ever desired.’

I have had to stop writing. I feel overwhelmed by my memories, overcome by what has built up inside me as I think about everything again. It has made my hands shake and I cannot hold the pencil still enough to write legibly. My stomach churns with anxiety when I think about how recording my experience is affecting me. When the trembling began, I put my pencil down and looked away in the hope it would stop. I thought if I ignored the way my body was shaking I would recover and soon be able to carry on, but that was a long time ago and shudders of emotion keep wracking me. He told me to keep working until he returned, but I stopped for too long and now I do not have time to catch up again. This has made me even more nervous, but I do not know what to do. If I tell him I am unable to write my story because it is too exciting for me, he will say I have to do so anyway and start from the beginning again. I know he will say I am not sufficiently recovered and need more treatment, so I must go back to the beginning. I could not bear to start all over; I have come too far. I could not stand to go through it all again...