Hello Readers,

So, I'll start with a disclaimer that you should read the chapters preceding this chapter to understand where we are. I also think you might enjoy listening to the music mentioned in the story to get a more immersive reading experience. We are approaching the end of Cecilia's time with Gerry. (I know he's a very unpopular one, so the good news is that the end is near! I love to hate him myself.) This was a difficult section to write, so thanks for bearing with me. Hope you enjoy it, but I'm really looking forward to sharing the next section of the story with you!

Poeticlicense91

*****

With that, Cecilia was left alone. She was still naked, but for the chastity belt. God damn him! She was wet again, rubbing her thighs together instinctually.

She sat on the bed, cross-legged with the binder in her lap. But she didn't open it. She just closed her eyes and struggled to understand what was happening. She ran down the list of things she knew.

She knew Master was trying to sell her.

She knew that he was preparing her for what his buyers wanted.

She knew that she couldn't escape.

Beyond that though, she was at a loss. Her mind flickered back to the past hour. She had begged to come, and she submitted to his paddle. Had that been a real choice? She couldn't be sure of even that much. She wasn't prepared to call his bluff. The stakes were too high. She lay on her side, because her bottom was tingling from its recent paddling. She rubbed her red bottom, and sighed as that brought a modicum of relief.

That was when the music turned on again, the same piano selection from before. Cecilia groaned. She needed peace and quiet, not this incessant music. She couldn't think straight with it playing, it wasn't background music; it compelled her to pay attention. "No. Not again." She whined, wishing it would stop so she could think.

Instead, she felt her nipples tighten and her pussy get wetter. The music was turning her into a wanton slut, and the chastity belt was mocking her. Why was her body doing this? Why did she want to come again? She couldn't reconcile anything that was happening, her body was acting on it's own, leaving her to flounder.

Isn't that what he said? He said her mind would need to catch up. No. He was just conditioning her. She did know that. But the knowledge wasn't helping. She sat back up and opened the binder. The first page had photos of a girl, naked like herself, kneeling, head bowed, and hands facing palms up on her thighs. It was labeled: Greeting. A second photo had her kneeling with her fingers laced behind her head, and her legs splayed wide underneath her. The label indicated: Presentation. The last pose was identical to balasana, or child's pose in yoga, but it was called Supplication. The girl was kneeling with her head to the floor, with her arms stretched out in front of her.

The next page had a long list of rules.

1) Formal address is Master

2) Informal address is Sir

3) Do not speak unless spoken to

4) Maintain respectful demeanor

Cecilia already knew these.

5) You do not come without permission.

6) You do not play with yourself.

Her cheeks reddened as she read the terms for orgasm. She already knew those, and hated them. Somehow this was at the crux of her inability to resist him. Other rules on the list perplexed her.

7) Always wait for permission before touching your Master.

8) Never initiate intimacy.

Ha! As if that was something Cecilia would have to worry about.

9) Wait on your Master's pleasure.

10) Always accommodate your Master's every desire.

11) Always greet your master by presenting. [See first page]

So that's what the photos were for. Cecilia read on.

12) Never presume to look your Master in the eye.

13) Never object to his wishes

14) Never hide your body from your Master

15) Never lie to your master, or hide the truth from him

Punishment was outlined on the next page, citing specific offenses and the chastisement that would follow.

Smart mouthing resulted in being gagged. Trying to escape would see her painfully tied up. Lying would be answered with a cane. Striking her master was punishable with breast torture and a cropping. But Cecilia knew this already. She involuntarily shuddered when she read: "Attempting to reach orgasm without permission will be punished as the master sees fit." She was still sore from the cane and her long, kneeling ordeal. This seemed to be the most serious offense listed.

She turned the page. The title read: Expectations. This couldn't be good. She scanned the list

1) Enthusiastically service your Master, or anyone he indicates, with your mouth, ass, and cunt.

2) Respond favorably to any attention your Master cares to give you.

3) Confess all misdeeds and ask for appropriate punishment immediately.

4) Thank your Master for all your punishments.

5) Put your Master's pleasure before your own.

6) Serve your Master meals, clean, and perform any other domestic duty as he sees fit.

7) Suffer silently and gracefully when he chooses.

Rules for third-person speech were on the last page, followed by the words she wasn't allowed to use anymore: can't, won't, and don't were the big three. However most variants of swearwords were also off limits. There was an exception for dirty talk. These rules were nothing, if not thorough.

Gerry let her have the rest of the afternoon to herself. When she finished reading everything in the binder, she moved on to reading the novels that were still stacked against the bed. She was resigned to the music never turning off.

Lace, for his part, didn't know how to push the girl any further. With Ashton coming to see her in the next 40 hours, he didn't want to have a rebellious slave greeting the client she had been tailor-trained to entice.

Gerry started organizing her medical information, employment and education records, and writing up his final assessment: Pleasure was key to controlling the girl. She didn't like sensory deprivation or the cane. Anal play wasn't yet fully instilled, but she was on her way to accepting her own submissiveness.

It was risky, showing Ashton the girl this soon, and he had already pulled the trigger. He hoped that the slave's virginity would be a blue chip in case she didn't behave. After all, there was little use in buying a virgin slave if she had already been trained for someone else's protocol. The dangling details and niceties were going to have to be adjusted by Ashton himself. Gerry had done the work of imparting the dual experience of pleasure and pain, punishment, and mechanics of submission to the girl. He was readying her for Ashton, but there was precious little left for him to do with the time he was given. Ideally, he would have had the girl fully identify herself as a submissive, the way he did with his other 'unaware' merchandise. But he had never dealt with this situation before, and time was too short.

With the girl reading general protocol, what else was there to teach her? He decided to wait and see. Once again he was leaving it in Cecilia's hands what his next step would be. Obedience had been a major sticking point with the girl, he was going to test that and let it determine how he would present the girl to Ashton.

Cecilia had no sense of time. She just knew she was hungry again. She had read all the way through the Kitty Thomas books, and now couldn't even be angry with the protagonists. She was jealous of them. She couldn't explain why she wanted to switch places suddenly. No, she could... ... because they weren't locked in chastity belts and highly aroused. The weak girls in the books didn't resist, they just yielded and were silly enough to find happiness in it. Cecilia sighed, wishing it could be like that... NO! No, she just needed an orgasm. It was a physical conditioning that she was suffering through. She wasn't going to let her mind follow this plan... Except, that all her struggles had brought her was more discomfort.

Master walked in on her thoughts, bringing shepherd's pie with him. He stood just inside the locked door waiting for something. He didn't say a word, but started tapping the toe of his shoe. The tapping made Cecilia nervous. She didn't know what to do or say. The silence stretched out. Cecilia could smell the warm food, it was making her mouth water. Master sighed, "Well. Your dinner is getting cold little slave. I expected you to be quicker than this. Where is the proper greeting?"

Cecilia looked blankly at him. That sneaky subversive voice in her head said 'kneel!' The image of the woman kneeling in the binder's photographs flicked her memory into gear: greeting. After that puzzled itself out, Cecilia's face flashed understanding. But she was going to refuse. She instead, played dumb.

"You know what I want little girl. Show me the proper greeting." Gerry knew she knew, he could read the truth of it on her face. "Go on then."

"No." Cecilia said quietly, determined to hold her ground this time. After all, the music had turned off, and she could think clearer.

"Is that so?"

"Yes." The word hissed between her teeth, and she felt more like herself. This man, the master in front of her had done nothing to earn the subservience he was demanding. She wasn't just going to give it to him.

"Very well then" said Gerry, refusing to be provoked. "Eat your dinner. I'll deal with this tomorrow. Good night."

He set the food down on the table, and left the room. His movements were eerily controlled and quiet. The door didn't slam, it just gently sealed her inside, and the metallic click told her she was locked in.

Instead of feeling brave, Cecilia felt incredibly stupid. What had she done? What was he going to do? Her stomach growled, but she was feeling nauseous. She clutched the black binder, and looked over the list of punishments. Mouthing off? Was that her crime? Or... 'Disobeying a direct order: Punishable with a caning, further measures to be determined on a case by case basis.' The bottom dropped out of her stomach. The words 'to be determined' were the most threatening thing she had yet encountered.

The hunger eventually won Cecilia's attention and she picked at the lukewarm beef pie. Now that her need to eat was satisfied, Cecilia's mind had no further distractions. She swung between her burning arousal and terrified conjecture about what Master would do in the morning. She was in for a caning, that much was sure.

Gerry was feeling rather pleased with himself. He wasn't interested in punishing Cecilia unnecessarily. That would only confuse the training, but Cecilia's disobedience merited one more punishment. Once firmly chastised, Cecilia would be sufficiently subdued in time for Sir Ashton's visit. He had an exercise in mind that would fully instill Cecilia's new role, without leaving room for doubt.

Cecilia hadn't slept a wink. At least, she honestly believed that when she was jerked harshly awake. The bright fluorescent lights blinded her momentarily and she used her sore forearm to shield her eyes from the sharp light.

"Up! Go on! Get up!" Cecilia could hear Master's thick accent through the gruffness in his voice. He was none too pleased. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out of bed, stumbling, trying to gain equilibrium. She was still blinking, trying to shake herself into alertness, but already he was dragging her down the corridor, her worst fears being realized as she was finally able to adjust to the dimmer light in the room master liked to punish her in.

There were all sorts of things laid out on a table: lengths of rope and chain, more awful clamps, a range of crops and floggers and paddles. On the floor were several small, ornate oriental rugs arranged in a circle, completely at odds with the cold starkness of the room. Master led Cecilia to stand on one. "Stay." Cecilia was far too off balance to contemplate how to be brave. She was almost dizzy, and the rug was lovely and soft under her cold bare feet.

She heard a click and the door shutting behind her. More music: Gerry decided on something more emotional for today's lesson. Schubert's Fantasie in F minor for Four Hands was a magical piece, and a favorite of Ashton's. In fact, the recording was Ashton, playing with a very attractive Asian pianist.

"Present." The command was bewildering. Cecilia's grogginess was fogging her ability to know what that was supposed to mean.

"WHACK!" The cane came down hard on the back of her thighs. It was all the reminder Cecilia needed as her brain and sense of survival slipped into gear. She screeched in pain and dropped to her knees. She put her hands on her lap and bowed her head, tears already seeping from her tightly shut lids.

"Better. That's the right attitude. But wrong. That's the greeting. Hands behind your head. Back straight."

Cecilia adjusted her arms. As soon as she was in proper presentation form, Gerry landed a punishing blow to Cecilia's taught shoulders. The stinging rippled and a stripe blossomed across the girl's back, marking her visibly on her shoulder blades. She arched her back sharply, but the chill in the cold room made the pain linger. Cecilia clenched her teeth and started to feel panic creep into her breathing.

"None of that. In through your nose, and out through your mouth. Breath. We have work to do. One more lesson that you seem to need. Tell me Cecilia, what are you?"

"I- I don't know. I don't know what you want me to say!" fear and earnestness were playing beautifully across Cecilia's eyes. She wasn't able to fight with this level of stress working on her. The music was impossible, how was that much sound possible? It was distracting and playful; Cecilia hated it. She just wanted to die and instead the piano player had the nerve to play with whimsy. Even the angry violin would have been better.

"Tell me the truth."

"I don't KNOW!"

"I'll tell ya. Yer a slave, Cecilia. Yer a submissive lit'le slave. And you are going to learn that today."

"No." The protest was weak.

"Yes. Yeh are. Now, crawl over to the carpet to the right. We're going to do some exercises to help you today." Cecilia crawled, the cold in the concrete leeching warmth from her tiny body, making her knees scream with the remembered pain from her kneeling ordeal with the rice. Once she reached the soft carpet she waited, unsure and not feeling bold enough to dare another movement. "Present," he commanded. She did it correctly this time. "Good slave." The praise made her want to vomit. "Now, like the good slave you are, beg me for the punishment you earned yesterday."

The pain and the chill sent awareness through Cecilia. It was a test. She had to beg for the right punishment, didn't she? The cane? No. It hurt so much. She couldn't take it. "Please no." She whispered fervently.

"What are you?"

"Don't make me do this. Please!" She was weeping, the low volume of her voice carrying in the emptiness of the room. But the music carried a threatening mysteriousness in it. It was as quiet as she was...

WHACK! Another stripe from the cane landed on the very top of her buttocks.

"A slave!" she cried out, hissing at the pain.

"Tha's right. Ye're a slave. So beg like one."

"Please!"

"Please what? I know yer too smart for this game Cecilia."

"Please Master! Punish me." Defeat was there, and Cecilia was looking down in shame at her compliance.

"How?" Was there no end? Would he not just torture her and be done with it? Frustration and humiliation tinged with raging hopelessness made her scream.

"However you WANT damn it!"

Master crouched down, and lifted her chin up. Dangerously serious, he pierced her gaze with his own dark eyes. "That's a wee bit bet'er. Tha's right after all. Almost a proper answer, even. I will. But you... you oughta know better than to swear at me." He stood up and started the predatory pacing Cecilia was familiar with. "Yeh disobeyed a direct order. You should know the punishment for that. I'm sure yeh do."

"A caning... Master."

"And?"

"Whatever you see fit Master." She remembered her reading.

"Good slave. Now. Beg for your punishment."

Cecilia didn't see a way out. The music was somehow toying with her. It wasn't quite right, or of this world. It ushered in something altogether different but not entirely sinister. It was romantic as the old world conceived of the notion: dark and brooding, then light and airy in turns.

"I'm waiting Cecilia."

"Please Master, use the cane for my disobedience." Cecilia wished the music were loud enough that she didn't have to hear herself say the words.

"Very well Cecilia. Show me 'supplication' and ask. Cecilia put her forehead to the ground, relieved that he was done with the inquisition for the time being. She looked like she was praying on the little rug. Finally she could hide her eyes and cry in earnest.

"I expect you to count them Cecilia. Be a good slave."

Swish. WHACK!

"One." She was wailing now. Her bottom was so sensitive, and the cane was flexible and evil, with its bite.

Swish. WHACK!

"Two." Cecilia was zeroing in on the music. She was starting to understand that the music was there for her benefit in some way, and clung to the notes as if they were a life raft to her drowning thoughts.

Gerry kept at it. He had twenty strokes in mind, but seeing how easily her skin was welting, decided to keep it at twelve. He had more than just this specific punishment to instill today, and didn't want to cause undo damage. It was her mind that needed the real training after all, her body was fairly compliant to his desires.

Swish. WHACK!

"Eleven! Please, please, PLEASE! Oh God!"

Swish. WHACK!

"Aggh! Twelve!"

Gerry dropped the cane, letting the clatter echo on the floor. "Crawl to the rug on the right. Show me the greeting."

Cecilia didn't have any more pride left, she crawled, and when she sat on her heels, hissed as the stinging pain reawakened even at the soft motions. Cecilia whimpered, her hands were in front of her on her lap, and her head was down in humility. In front of her was a short vertical post with a large dildo mounted just above her eye level.

"Good girl. Now, present yourself."

Cecilia knelt up, relieved to take the pressure off her bum. The dildo was right in front of her now. "Spread those legs." He was barking the order as his hand travelled up her thigh. Instead of soothing away the stinging sensation on her bottom, he reached to feel wetness that startled Cecilia. This couldn't be happening. Why? Why was this happening? But the music took a turn for magical, and if she closed her eyes, Cecilia felt trapped, as if she were floating feet above the pain that was rooting her to earth. Without it, she could probably fly away, and the thought scared her, just momentarily she was grateful for something that kept her anchored, bound even though she was untied.

"What do you think I want yeh to do now?"

Cecilia didn't want to answer any more questions. Instead of having to hear her own submission, she licked her lips and started taking the silicone member into her mouth. "That's a girl," Master encouraged, "That's a good slave. Suck." Cecilia was slow and reluctant, trying to focus on the music and ignore the present situation. It was lyrical and teasing, and even though the music was better, it made her aware of how aroused she was. God she wanted to come again!

Gerry encouraged the sucking slave, placing stern control on himself as he watched the girl lave at the fake cock. Would it devalue her that much if he fucked her mouth? He'd love to see the look on her face. No. All in good time. He'd take care of his throbbing need later, and enjoy the show for now. After a few more minutes, he decided to move her to the next rug.
"Crawl over to the next rug, slave."

Cecilia listened immediately, happy to be done with the humiliating activity. What could he want now?

"Now, kneel up, and play with yourself." Gerry had to laugh as she paled and then blushed furiously. "I'm giving you permission to play with yourself slave. Go on."

No... NO! NO! NO! Cecilia couldn't decide if this, or sucking the phallus had been more awful. She couldn't do this in front of someone. She hadn't done it ever, except, her unhelpful memory prodded, when she had tried to have a forbidden orgasm before. When she had been driven to a frenzy and tried to masturbate. She felt herself grow wetter at the memory. No. She wasn't that debased.

"Fine. I won't wait. Crawl to the next carpet." She did, thrilled that her defiance hadn't garnered more punishment. She was back at the place they started. "Stand and present!"

Cecilia stood, wobbly on her cramped legs. "Hands behind your head. This is standing presentation." She did. Master grabbed a thin rope from the table. He doubled it over, wrapped it around her waist and threaded the ends through the loop, guiding the two ends down between her wet pussy lips. He paused to knot the two, and then tied the ends tightly at the small of her back. The knot was positioned right against her clit, and the pressure started sending pleasurable shocks through her nervous system.

"What are you?" The inquisition was starting over again, as was the music, returning to it's mysterious beginning, looping and twisting as Cecilia's emotions became more and more fraught with confusion.

"A slave." She knew what he wanted her to say now.

"Who am I?"

My torturer, Cecilia thought. "Master." Cecilia answered.

"What can I do to you?

"Whatever you want," She said with her head bowed in shame.

"Look me in the eye and tell me."

She looked up at him, the fight waning in her eyes, "You can do whatever you want to me."

"That's right. Crawl."

Crawling was so much more difficult with the rope digging into her crotch. Each shift of her hips brought delicious friction to her clit, her wetness making the rope slick. Gerry caught her slowed movements, and urged her along with a quick slap to her battered behind. "Now, ask me for punishment. Be a good little slave and choose."

On her hands and knees, Cecilia felt the burdensome weight of choice. The music was whispering sweet nothings in her ears while the damp rope tugged at her central nervous system. Choose? What could she choose? She didn't realize she'd closed her eye instinctually. When she opened them she saw the array on the table. 'Anything but the cane,' she said inwardly. She saw the suede flogger, and remembered being carried off by it. "That one." She pointed to it.

"Interesting choice," Master observed. Logic said she would choose that which she found least threatening. He had thought she would pick the crop, he had been most gentle with that implement, but was pleasantly surprised by her choice. It had been the implement used to educate her about pleasure and pain. He started covering her body with it, letting the strands thud and wrap around her torso. She stood unfettered this time, bound only by the obedience he was teaching her, and the music that was creating a tiny bubble of protection around her innermost identity. She wanted nothing more than to stop thinking, because the sensation was being transmuted, and Cecilia wanted nothing to do with the consequences of what was happening to her.

When Cecilia had attained a nice rosy hue over her front and back, Gerry backed away and set the flogger down. Cecilia hadn't even cried out, only moaned seductively with each impact.

"Crawl."

Cecilia found herself nearly panting with arousal as the rope worked its wonders over her clit, crawling to face the mounted dildo. "Get closer." He nudged her forward, closer to the phallus. "You know what to do."

Her mouth fit over the length of the dildo, and she started to lick it, detesting this exercise. For that's what this was, she realized: an exercise circuit for training a slave. Gerry pushed her head forward even more, forcing her to take more and more into her mouth. When her mouth was fairly stuffed with the artificial cock, he quickly clamped a peaked nipple, twisting the chain around the dildo's mount, and then fixing the other clamp onto Cecilia's tit. She jumped and tried to pull back, but yelped in pain as it pulled on her tender buds, and forced her mouth to accommodate the entire length of the cock she was sucking. The pain in her tits was starting to become an accelerant to her pussy, and she bucked her hips as she was forced to worship the dildo on her knees.

Dear Lord, this wasn't fair. Gerry was hard as an iron rod, and could do nothing. He stepped back from her as he tried to regain perspective. He focused on the music for a bit. But that wasn't much help: This was erotic ballet. The girl performing to the music was everything you could want in art: beautiful, submissive, (for the time being) obedient, and lavishing attention on a rubberized cock. He could see someone paying exorbitant amounts of money for this. The thought of the profit the girl would bring was enough for him to exert more self-control. He kept her there a bit longer this time, making sure she put a good amount of enthusiasm into her task, trying to cool his own ardor. He was satisfied with her effort for this round, and eased the clamps off.

"MMMmmmpppph. Oh God! Ahh!" Cecilia was happy to have them off, but it hurt as they were removed. She crawled without being told, to the next rug.

"Play with yourself." He was telling her to do it again. And this time, she wanted to. The knot at her clit was driving her up a wall. So help her, obeying should be easy this time. Tentatively she stroked her nipples, rubbing away the last of the pain the biting clamps left in their wake. She tilted her head back. It felt so good. More wetness flowed from her pussy. The tight rope was egging her on, and she closed her eyes, as her right hand travelled down her belly and between her legs. Just the lightest touch against the rope sent shivers and a surge of pleasure. She didn't realize how close she had been climbing. The music had been more than a balm to the pain, it had been spark to the tinder. She was being carried on it, and she guided a finger into her tight cunt. She was moaning now, a little slave in heat. Getting really worked up, Cecilia found herself begging like she had been taught, "Please let me come? Please Master?"

"No."

Cecilia stopped her motions. She was shocked. She was being so good. She wailed and felt the slippery knot tease her cunt further. She started to beg again. "Please! Please Master?"

"No. Over to the next rug. Crawl."

Cecilia was getting angry. Her frustration and torment were going to trap her. She obeyed, fighting shivers as she made her way to the thick carpet.

"Supplication." Master demanded. Cecilia folded herself over and reached her arms out. Feeling the rope pull at her arousal as she stretched her torso forward. She wanted relief so badly. She hated this chaos reverberating in her body even as the piano played beautiful harmonies. The irony in the music was far from amusing. But Master didn't relent. He continued with his interrogation.

"What are you?"

"I am a PERSON! With rights! You can't DO this to me! Let me GO!" Cecilia found her courage as she found her anger. This wasn't fair. She had been good and he was denying her! She had earned it damn it! "Let me come!" She needed it. Once she came she could make sense of everything. In this worked up state she was useless, operating only on animal instinct.

"That is not the correct answer. Try again." Her bursts of fight were entertaining, but they were time consuming. Lace was feeling rather smug with how perfect this punishment fit Cecilia's crime. The sooner she obeyed, the sooner her punishment would end. She was the one determining its length.

"NO! NO, I'm NOT a slave!" Cecilia was sitting up now, clenching her fists. Before she had a chance to protest with greater strength, Master cuffed her wrists behind her back. He remained calm and business like, not getting flustered at her sudden outburst. It was infuriating to be the only one being pushed to extremes.

"You are. You are submissive, and you're going to be sold as a slave, so you best accept that now."

"No. No, I'm NOT!" Cecilia was pulling at the cuffs wrapped about her wrists, happy to have something to struggle against, relieved she wasn't being as compliant as she had been. Anger was good; it was like cool water in her fevered arousal. It would keep her from losing herself.

"I know you don't like to hear this, but you are submissive. You relish having the choices and the options taken away. You don't want to be responsible for your own pleasure. Your body knows that. We've been through this." He raked his fingertips sensually through the roots of her hair.

"You weren't meant to fight. Look at yourself. You were made to yield. It's in your makeup. You exhaust yourself, and wear yourself out fighting me. It doesn't energize you. When you let yourself be controlled, you fly! You just don't want to admit that." The scalp massage was feeling so good as Cecilia listened, feeling the persuasive argument tease her with the promise of pleasure, just like Master's fingers were.

"So I'll tell you what, let's do one more lap. At the end if you want to come, you'll admit you're a slave and ask me for permission. You'll only be allowed to come if you ask to have your ass plugged. And that's it! You'll be done. The whole thing will be over." He made it sound so easy, so simple. "You have the choice to end this fight Cecilia. You don't want to fight anyway. You want pleasure and release. You just asked me for it. I'll give it to you."

It sounded so easy, so perfect. After all this, she could make it stop. Something was logical there. She did want release, the fighting was taking its toll on her emotionally and physically. All she had to do was tell him what he wanted to hear... No. She couldn't do that. He was tempting her with the devil's promises. She couldn't succumb. It would mean losing everything if she did, she was sure of it.

As she knelt silently, at war with herself, Lace waited. The music was still swirling around them. He pulled his hand away from her head. "Tell me what I want to hear. What are you?"

Cecilia couldn't answer. She knew. And she knew that by saying it, by giving in and using the power of naming, she would never be able to go back. She wished she was gagged. Resistance was wearing her down, and she couldn't tell what required the more valiant effort anymore.

Gerry wasn't going to wait. He nudged her leg with the toe of his shoe. "Fine. You've just chosen your next punishment. Over to the next spot."

"No! No! I'm NOT! Please!"

"You are. And the sooner you admit that, the sooner you'll have what you want. Now MOVE!"

Hands cuffed behind her, she was unable to crawl. Awkwardly, she got to her feet and walked to the next station of her miserable exercise routine. She didn't kneel, holding desperately to the thought that she was stronger than she felt, believing she could outlast whatever Master planned to do to her.

Gerry selected a flexible riding crop from the collection of implements. He decided to spare her bottom for the moment, and targeted her breasts. The doubled leather tip circled her nipples, but never found them, making her achingly aware that she responded unnaturally to the pain. Cecilia wanted him to balance the sensation on her breasts, and ease the tension building in her sensitive, ruddy tips. The pain would be welcome. Instead, he increased the speed and impact on her chest, causing her to cry in frustration and pain.

Why was the music still playing? It was holding her prisoner as much as the cuffs were. She couldn't be free to move into shock or acceptance because the music was piloting her emotions. It played on her desire to find something good, or even tolerable and forced her to be sharply aware and furiously present during this waking horror.

The crop on her bare breasts was more painful this time. The first time she felt its bite was when she woke to this nightmare. But now, just over the course of a week she could identify a radical change in her body. It hurt, but hurt was only a shade of what she was feeling. She was being pulled in two directions. It was inevitable that she was going to bend before she would break. She couldn't pretend anymore. As her flesh was being assaulted she realized there was only one thing she could do for herself, and that was to hold on as long as she possibly could.

Gerry saw Cecilia close her eyes. It looked as if she had made up her mind. Good, he was satisfied with her punishment, and had no wish to continue, he'd much rather find his own release. Training her was it's own brand of erotic torture, and the sooner he could be done, the sooner he'd find a warm mouth to quench his own burning need.

Cecilia bit her lips and let out yelps, determined to endure. The music was still accompanying her punishment and she allowed her mind the respite of concentrating on the movement and mood of the piece. She drew images behind her closed lids of what she thought the composer was drawing out in the notes and chords. When she felt the crop land squarely on her behind, she was jolted out of her reverie.

Master was pushing her towards the next carpet, exerting downward force on her shoulders, making her kneel again, eye to eye with the dildo she had been practicing on. She found that giving head was a helpless activity without the use of her hands. She was constantly off balance, and felt her mouth, jaw and cheeks tire. Her pussy clenched and wept, feeling the tiny jaws of the clamps finally fire the nerve endings in her nipples. It was so difficult to do this. She yelled and moaned, wishing with all her being for this to end. She was pretty sure Master was taking photos of her like this, but she was effectively gagged with the silicone cock. Master started taking the crop to her behind, encouraging her to suck and properly attend to the prick in her mouth. She was tired, her mouth was dry and here jaw aching. She wanted to stop, to move on. What was next? No. She couldn't think about that.

Gerry determined she was done practicing on the cock when he wasn't sure if he would be able to hold off. The control he had to exert on Cecilia and reign on himself was tedious. He took a quick chance to land the crop on her clamped tits, enjoying her moan, and rewarded her responsiveness by freeing the abused buds.

Cecilia was all dry sobs and pants. He was using the crop to direct her, not even speaking his commands to her. Master tugged on the rope around her waist, eliciting a desperate, husky moan. More. Just a bit more and I'll have it... but he already released the rope that was making a fool out of her. She looked down and saw that she was back at the first carpet again.

"Show me the greeting. Or as close to it as you can manage."

Cecila clumsily knelt, falling to her knees painfully, absorbing the impact as another wave of sensation.

"Play with yourself."

Pretending she didn't want to was impossible. She did. But now she couldn't.

"Oh, well, you seem to have a problem there. We really can't trust you with your hands. Let's see... How about this?"

Master had some sort of toy in his hands. It looked almost like a spinning top, but flatter. One end was convex and rounded. The other came to an obtuse vertex at a very soft angle. Master set it down between her legs. He prodded her forward with his crop.

She knew he wanted her to put her weight on it. Unsure of how this was supposed to work, she let her sex bare her weight and eased down on it. There was no penetration, but it was unsteady and rocked underneath her. Trying to keep herself centered, Cecilia countered the rocking with a shift of her hips. Then she understood.

"Ahhhhhggghh"

"Ride it." Master said in a low voice. Cecilia, at this point didn't hesitate to obey.

It was awkward and far from smooth, but there was friction and pressure, and that was all her body demanded. She churned her hips provocatively, enjoying the answering pleasure that would lead to her climax. She didn't care about the sounds she was making. Raw and husky, her moans practically encouraged her.

Gerry was amused. She was working herself quickly. He kept alert, making sure that he caught and stopped her before she came. Cecilia didn't seem to realize anyone else was in the room anymore. He decided to remind her, "You don't have permission to come yet slave."

Cecilia knew, she was just trying to prolong her pleasure. The rope was getting tighter from her liquid arousal, and the movement in her hips was mesmeric. The longer she waited to ask, the better she would feel that she had resisted him. But she was dangerously close.

Lace had seen enough. She was not going to ask, she was trying to orgasm without permission. That was the last thing he was going to allow to happen. Before she could come, he lifted her bodily from the carpet, and in three large strides had the struggling girl over to the next little rug.

"NO. NO! Please! I was so close! PLEASE, let me come! Please, please, please!"

"Yeh weren't going to ask. So now we need to do this again."

And they did. Cecilia felt like a prisoner of the inquisition. She wasn't prepared to continue to answer the repetitive questions. "What are you?"

"A slave." She felt it now. Her pussy was clenching around nothing, pleading with her to obey and find peace.

"What are you?"

"a slave." She whispered again

"Louder."

"A slave!"

"Who am I?"

"Master?"

"What can I do to you?"

"Anything!" She sobbed, wishing she could just break and end this.

She was whipped at the next carpet, this time with a horsetail flogger. She didn't understand what it was for at first, it didn't hurt terribly at all, it just sort of spread all over her body. But after a few more swings she understood. Everywhere it hit her she felt an itch, like a rash, rise to her skin. She couldn't rub away the feeling, or shake off the falling horsehair that was driving her to new levels of madness. It caught her between the legs.

"Please! Please Master! Let me come! Stop this!"

"Not yet, you've got more practicing to do."

Cecilia was sucking on the damned dildo again, her entire body on fire. The clamps range of motion on her tits was even shorter this time, and she had to take the entire length in her mouth to give her breasts relief. She couldn't believe her body could stand this much stimulation. The tension in her kept rising with the tension in the music, but she wasn't being granted the release that the music allowed itself. The piano player was being judicious with his playing, not building it more than the listener could bear. No such mercy was being granted Cecilia, and she was sure she would suffer internal collapse.

She was back at the rug with the top. Eagerly she rubbed and rocked against it, begging immediately. "Please Master! Let me come!"

"Tell me what you are."

"A slave."

"And slaves can only come if?"

No. She was not begging him to plug her ass. She wouldn't.

After being dragged back to the first carpet to review positions and answer the inquisition, Cecilia decided she would. Her punishment this time was the paddle, but this one had holes in it, to minimize any possible air cushion that would temper the punishment. After the itchy horsetail flogger it was a blessed relief, until more prickling stinging rose across her red bottom.
Sucking on the rubber cock, Cecilia felt the posture collar return. Lace was not going to let her get comfortable with this routine. He needed her to submit, and admit to her reality, and keeping her off balance and desirous was the best way to do that. With the collar on, Cecilia found that she was forced to be even more attentive, and had limited freedom to do more than bob her head back and forth, over and over, on the phallus. She was willing to do anything to come now. There was no way she could hold out longer.

But she did. After refusing to ask for her ass to be filled, Cecilia was answering Master's questions again.

Lace was impressed, and started to wonder how long she could continue this. As he questioned her, and made her verbalize her slavery, her submissivness, and her helplessness, he decided to go for broke.

It was just her pussy that was taking the flogging now, the suede falls making Cecilia beg. She would be good, if only she could come, she'd be very good.

Once more she was worshipping the phallus, her mind errantly wishing she could have it between her legs. She stopped crying, fresh out of tears, and hoped that she could stop taking it between her chapped lips. God she wanted to come. She had already had a plug in her ass and it hadn't killed her. She just wanted to stop feeling incomplete.

Cecilia was ready to fuck the little toy on the floor, even though it was unnecessary, she was already primed to fall over the edge. "Please. Please Master! Let this slave come!" Cecilia was shocked. She had reverted to third person speech without being told, and was nearly beyond caring. "Please... please plug my ass." She felt like such a dirty whore, but her body couldn't take it anymore. Her threshold for pain was maxed out, and if she had to take another punishment, she thought she would die.

Gerry held a larger blue plug in front of her face. "You want me to use this?"

No. "Yes" she whispered. Anything to make this end.

"Tell me. Tell me you want this big plug wedged in your arse."

"Please Master," her head hung in shame, but she saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Just a bit longer, "put that big plug in my ass."

"Good little slave. Show me supplication."

Cecilia did, relieved there wasn't going to be some more twisted tasks before she could get this over with. Her arms were still cuffed behind her as her forehead rested on the floor. Master untied the rope around her waist and jerked it loose between her legs. Cecilia shivered, so ready to come that she could already feel the throbbing, already feeling a pull from her body, ready to escape.

Gerry greased up the girl and the plug. She was moaning at his touch, even as his fingers started breaching her bottom. Her determination to refuse to submit had made her so crazed for stimulation that everything he was doing to her now registered as pleasure. Cecilia didn't resist the plug's entry. She moaned as it stretched her, and when the widest part finally was held inside, Cecilia keened out, begging now that she had met her end of the bargain.

"Tell me what y'are?"

"A slave, Master."

"Very good. You may play with yourself now."

Cecilia took her time now, adjusting to the fullness in her bottom. It made her strangely satisfied, as if she were that much closer to completion. She centered her pussy over the toy and enjoyed the fact that the rope was no longer getting in the way. But without the rope and it's evil little knot, Cecilia found she had to rock more violently and grind harder. It wasn't as satisfying. "Please. Master!" She didn't know what she was begging for.

Lace saw her predicament. He let her dangle and rock for another minute before stepping behind her. He unfastened the collar first, and then freed her wrists. As he trailed his hands over her he felt himself loosing control. He wanted nothing more than to push her to the ground, lick her wet cunt until she melted into a puddle of completion, but he didn't trust himself not to push his raging erection into her tired mouth, or even deflower her entirely. He stepped away as soon as she was free. "Make yourself come." He meant to turn away, but she was captivating and he couldn't tear his gaze from the meek slave hungrily seeking her own pleasure.

Cecilia was relieved to be free, and finally days after her failed attempt, she was allowed to use her own hands and come on her own. She half closed her eyes, and breathed deep when the music eased into a beautiful strain. Everything around her was so ugly, everything except the music and the tremors crawling under her skin. Her middle finger had no trouble finding her swollen clit. It was fully erect, begging for the attention for so long now. A shock shot up her spine, and Cecilia was lost to everything except the piano and the orgasm that was ravaging her. She fell over onto her side, and kept bucking her hips and fingering her sex. It kept going, and Cecilia didn't have to think about how the waves of her orgams felt strongest around her stinging bottom and achy breasts. It all melted into something for which euphoria was the closest, but not completely accurate, word.

Lace waited for her thrashing to subside. He didn't want to touch her right now, he was too worked up to trust himself. She rode the orgasms to a degree that he hadn't been prepared for. She had put up a valiant fight, but her body's reaction was all he needed to see. She was internally very submissive and externally terrified of what that meant. It had been a successful morning. He left her to recover in the room, locking the door behind him. She was going to need more time to absorb the severity of her body's submission, and he needed his own relief.

Cecilia fell into a semi-conscious state. Her body had never been so thoroughly exhausted. Every day here, every 'lesson' he taught her, pushed the edges of her endurance and she wasn't sure she could handle it. Now that her sex had finally been silenced, Cecilia felt all the pain hiding in her body. Her ass had to be bruised. There was no way it wasn't, as she rubbed it to ease all the stinging she felt her muscles tighten and throb. Her entire body was a pinkish-red from the floggers, and the crop's marks were bright red against her skin. Cecilia relished the freedom she felt, finally satiated. She couldn't think about what she had done to get her to this spot, because in her heart of hearts she knew she played a part.

She didn't move, lying on the floor she felt as if the world were spinning around her, and she was able to appreciate the music as it played. There was nothing left to tease or arouse, and with a deep sigh, she closed her eyes and peacefully hovered somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, somewhere between her body and the sky.