Trapped and Tamed Read online

  “Alyssa never lied to you and she barely wears any make-up at all. ”

  “Yes, not really enough to count. No worry, I didn’t lie to her just now, you did. ”

  Jones waited a moment in the doorway but Sierra said nothing. There was nothing to say. Who could argue with his crazy logic? What slave could persuade her Master to change his world view?

  “Twenty-three plus eighteen. Forty-one strokes of the cane tonight. ”Jones closed the dining room door behind him.

  Chapter 8

  Sierra wondered more and more about her situation and her reactions. Lying awkwardly underneath the dining room table as time passed she felt an unpleasant blend of emotions; dismay, fear, anger, restlessness, boredom, arousal, regret, anticipation, reluctance, revulsion, eagerness, curiosity, sadness. At various times one emotion would come to the forefront before quickly yielding and being jostled aside by some other emotion. They competed and they exhausted her.

  She was naked under a table!Shackled!She couldn’t leave even if she wanted to, which, of course, she did. Even if she had permission to leave…. What the Hell? She didn’t need permission!That was stupid. She just needed the key and she would leave. Sure, she did want to finger her pussy but she wouldn’t. She told herself she refrained because she didn’t want to humiliate herself any further by diddling all alone on the floor of a dining room. Part of her did want to humiliate herself further and that voice of dissent felt the only reason she didn’t masturbate was simple instinct to obey the Master.

  The room was warm from sunshine through a bank of windows facing the gigantic back yard and pool so at least she wasn’t chilly despite her nudity. The hard floor was uncomfortable though and she had to keep shifting from side to side to rest sore hips. The floor wasn’t dirty but it sure felt dirty.

  From time to time she accidentally looked at the section of floor where Jones had fucked her ass so authoritatively. There was some physical evidence. Slick smears of come, his and hers, drool, sweat. It was so gross, but, at the same time, every time she looked at the evidence of her taming she felt a stab of arousal. Her nipples would harden and she had to force herself not to squirm around. Getting too aroused was not wise when she was not allowed to masturbate. That would just be worse torture.

  A woman always remembered her first screw no matter how awkward and uncomfortable. She supposed the same was true of her first ass-fucking. Sierra knew she would always remember. It had changed her. More than that, she knew, just knew, no matter how many times she was fucked up the ass in the future none of those times would ever match or exceed what Jones had done to her. That hole would always be his and any others who took her there would suffer in comparison.

  Sierra thought often about fingering herself but didn’t. She still wasn’t sure if the reluctance was due to a sense of humiliation. Who masturbates while shackled under a dining room table? Or was it because she feared disobeying Jones… or just didn’t want to let him down…. She wasn’t sure if he was really her Master -- she sure wasn’t the slave type -- but he certainly was masterful. He had so deftly manipulatedand manoeuvered her!Both physically and mentally… even emotionally. It was incredible.

  Her strongest emotion was one of embarrassment. It was all so embarrassing!She was most embarrassed that an intelligent girl -- woman -- like her, one who even suspected Jones’ intentions from the outset, fell so completely under Jones’ sway. For the time being. Once she was released she would get the hell out and never come back. When would he free her? What if he kept her shackled forever as some kind of dinner pet as much a fixture as the massive dining room table itself?

  Sierra shuddered with a curious mixture of dread and arousal. The idea of being ‘The pet under the table’ was somehow sexy but obviously only in theory. In real life her present situation was awful and would be nightmarish if continued indefinitely.

  She really did feel like masturbating. She was just lying there with nothing to do anyway. Maybe it would banish these thoughts that were driving her nutty.

  Her fingers felt so good and her pussy was hot, wet, and receptive. Two fingers weren’t enough so she fit a third in and worked them around freely. It made her toes curl. It also made her feel guilty and worried. Guilty for enjoying this situation, worried about getting addicted to these foreign thrills. Guilty for disobeying Jones and worried he would know and punish her.

  Earlier, how in God’s name had he known she was masturbating under the table while she licked his tool clean of come and remnants from her asshole? The table had blocked any possible view he could have had. Did he just assume she was or was he some kind of psychic? If he was psychic that would explain a lot. Maybe he used his mind to control, or at least influence, her behavior. That was a scary thought but, if true, it would also be a relief. She would no longer be accountable for her slutty behavior or current circumstances. But, no, none of that was realistic. She had to take responsibility. Obviously, she did have quite a slutty side. She knew that now. She hoped that didn’t make her an actual slut but she definitely was a horny girl.

  She heard a noise and froze with her fingers up her hot pussy. She did want to be rescued but dreaded anyone discovering her naked and stinking of sex under the table. Instead of a rescuer it was much more likely to be a persecutor anyway. The noise was from the door opening and she saw female feet. Small feet and slim legs approached until they were right next to the table. Sierra heard clattering dishes getting stacked together. Had it been two hours already? Sierra shifted her weight and peered up between a chair and the lip of the table.

  Bare sexy legs and black bikini bottoms with the telltale tattooed flames blazing up her abdomen above the low-slung waistline. Yes, it was definitely the “serving girl”. Did she know Sierra was under the table? Maybe Master Jones hadn’t told her. Or maybe she just didn’t care. Sierra knew it was hopeless to say anything to that one. She was clearly completely brainwashed by Jones.

  Sierra was scared to make a peep. Hadn’t Jones said something about practicing her oral skills to be ready to help seduce or satisfy Alyssa later? As if!That was crazy. Well, you couldn’t practice pussy-licking on a cock, could you? Jones must have expected there was some chance of the “serving girl” sitting in one of these chairs.

  Sierra held her breath and prayed the girl didn’t sit down. Somehow she knew she would find herself licking pussy for the first time ever. Like it or not.

  The girl collected all the dishes and left. Sierra was alone again. Naked and shackled.

  At some point during the collecting of dishes Sierra had pulled her fingers free of her pussy. Just in case the “serving girl” had looked under the table. For the time being Sierra was now able to resist the temptation to masturbate.

  Who knew how long that would last….

  About an hour later she was still sore and even more bored and restless.

  Her ass hurt inside and out. It felt gross, too, because Jones’ sperm occasionally squeezed out. She didn’t like sitting in it and she didn’t dare wipe it on a chair. Nasty. The bite on her neck throbbed. She still couldn’t believe the bastard bit her.

  She heard the door swing open and she froze in place. Her eyes widened when a chair was pulled out. The legs were small and there were men’s loafers on the feet. Well… at least it was a man though quite a small one apparently.

  The short man kicked off his shoes -- one flew past her left ear -- and stepped out of his pants and underwear. He hopped up on the chair and spread his legs wide.

  His voice from above the table was coarse, “You know what to do, slave bitch. ”

  My God!Sierra’s alarm soared higher. That voice… it was the chauffeur!No, no, no, not him. Jones or maybe some stranger maybe she could cope. Even if the stranger was some ugly guy she’d maybe never see his face and could imagine almost anyone. She’d probably imagine Jones, she knew that. He was no looker and he was pre
tty old but at least he was a Master. He might deserve a treat like having a pretty slave chained under a table sucking him off. But… the chauffer… he was some kind of little mutant. She couldn’t possibly!Could she?

  “A slave mouth better be on this cock working hard on my hardness in the next couple of seconds. Don’t make me come down there!”

  Well, she didn’t want that. It sounded even worse. She would have to choose the lesser of the two evils. Or the shorter….

  She knew what was expected but she didn’t know if she would actually do it. He sounded mean, like he wouldn’t just take no for an answer. She crawled close to him and looked at what he had for her. His cock looked impossibly wider at the head than at the base and the cockhead actually looked purple. His cock looked as mean as he sounded.

  Sierra wondered what Jones would want her to learn from this act. Perhaps the feel, the psychological effect of sex with a virtual stranger, sex with someone she would never normally consider, sex at his command for someone else. Or did he just want her to learn she really was a slut? Or, maybe nothing, he just wanted this to happen for its own sake. She didn’t know.

  What she did know surprised her. She was going to go ahead and suck the short chauffeur’s cock. She was going to try to do her very best suck and blow job on it. She already knew she would swallow the load or at least try her best. She was sure it was expected and she didn’t want the stranger’s come all over the floor under the table. It would just add more bodily fluids for her to slide around in and who knew how long she’d be stuck down here.

  Once she did it she could finger her pussy to climax without risking added punishment or, more importantly, any disapproval from Master Jones.

  She closed her tentative but eager mouth over that purple cockhead.

  Everything she pictured came to pass as there were two more orgasms under the table.

  Sierra licked her dry lips. She could still taste the chauffeur’s sperm. She was so thirsty she wished he’d shot even more into her mouth. Or that he’d come back now for another blow job. She wondered how long she could live on sperm alone if she had to. Not long, she was sure.

  Perhaps even worse than her thirst was her powerful need to pee. It wasn’t quite painful but it was close. Her bladder was tightly full. She wasn’t about to pee down under this table. It would spread all over and she’d end up lying in it.

  She was so thirsty the impulse to pee and then suck it up off the floor was tempting.

  She took stock of her position. A shackled, humiliated sexual prisoner. Sore as Hell with welts from strikes of a cane all over her ass and internal abrasions from the ass fuck. Even her jaw was sore now. The bite on the back of her neck was swollen up like Jones had injected venom into her. More like swelled up from an allergic reaction she thought dryly. Sex with her boss who she neither liked nor found attractive and then sex with the short ugly guy. Who could blame her for an allergic reaction? These events were on the list of negatives along with many other concerns and grievances.

  On the list of positives… four orgasms… the best she’d ever had… so far….

  She wondered if anyone at work was missing her or at all concerned. Obviously not. Three of her co-workers -- receptionist Amber, Doctor Lynne, and her own buddy Tina -- were all completely under his control and unaware of anything Jones did not want them to pay attention to.

  Lori, though strong-willed, was unlikely to even be at the clinic right now. She was fed up with all the menial cleaning Jones had tasked her with and kept using accrued vacation time whenever he assigned more of that. She had little patience for bullshit. Maybe that was why she never had a boyfriend despite her beauty. There was no way she would ever succumb to Jones. Jones had no idea what he was dealing with there and Sierra wished she could be a fly on the wall whenever Lori shot him down.

  Alyssa would have been her best hope but, because she had co-operated with Jones’ demands to call her and banish her trepidations, now they were both doomed.

  Letting herself be tricked by him… giving in at every turn to every wrong demand Jones made all day long… even carrying out his demands when he was no longer in the building… and fooling Alyssa into a possibly dangerous predicament all added up to nearly obliterating Sierra’s self-esteem.

  She felt stupid, dirty, foolish, weak-willed, corrupt. The only escape from the self-persecuting thoughts was a yearning review of the sexual acts inflicted on her and how she had, at least, succeeded in pleasing Jones and the little guy. She was somewhat useful after all. She found herself clinging to these types of thoughts. Her obedience to their wishes was useful. The more obedient she was the more useful she was. In the end obedience might lead to even more of these excellent orgasms….

  She heard the double doors scrape open once again. She closed her eyes, not wanting to look, not even wanting to hope whoever it was did not sit down. Hope could be crushed. Resigned lack of hope protected her dilapidated emotional framework. It was a house of cards at this point.

  Sure enough, the new occupant lazily pulled a chair out and plopped down on its seat.

  Another visitor wasn’t unexpected by Sierra. A rich doctor like Jones might have a great number of friends and no doubt most would avail themselves of a free blow job. She’d envisioned having to provide more oral attentions and pictured both a best case scenario and a worst case scenario. The best case scenario involved a “handsome” cock not too large and, for all she knew, attached to a handsome man.

  She opened just on eye and squinted at the legs of the next contestant she was “supposed” to give a blow job to.

  It was the worst case scenario.

  That damn “serving girl” with the flaming pussy tattoo.

  Sierra guessed she must be done with all her chores. If she was as brainwashed as the others, and Sierra already knew she was, she likely did all her work for Jones for free. Maybe for room and board though. Sierra wondered if the girl spent her nights chained under or against furniture. She wondered if she herself would still be shackled under here later that night or even for how many more nights than just one.

  She was sure as Hell sure the girl wouldn’t have her own bed. The thought made her wonder. She’d like to see those living -- or enslaved -- arrangements just to satisfy her curiosity.

  Sierra knew she was trying to distract herself with these thoughts in order to avoid considering going down on the serving girl. She knew she had to choose either to do it or not. The girl sat there patiently, either tolerant or perhaps enjoying the knowledge of the thought processes going on in Sierra’s mind. Sierra knew there were consequences with either decision. Deep ramifications. She did not want to cross that line but she also didn’t want to cross Doctor Jones.

  He wasn’t even here but she still feared him. The cane had left an imprint on her psychologically as well as literally. If she didn’t co-operate who knew how long he’d keep her here and she would be punished severely with the cane. Remembering her current expected tally of cane strikes she corrected herself; punished even more severely. On the other hand, if she did co-operate in this twisted program, who knew how long he’d keep her here and she would still be visited by the cane again and again. The thought of being kept as an abused house pet was awful and intimidating. Still, there was a dark heating of lust deep in her belly. The life of a sexual pet, though painful and dehumanizing, would, at the least, be more interesting than her current one.

  Sierra tossed her head but the guerilla warfare thoughts clung there.

  The serving girl tapped one foot with gentle impatience. Clearly she knew Sierra was down there. That became ever more clear when she skinned off her black bikini bottoms and kicked them in Sierra’s general direction. Now she was bare from her solar plexus to her sexy feet.

  Sierra looked at those black bikini bottoms lying against her right knee. She thought she could smell pussy emanating fro
m them but admitted the scent could be coming from her own pussy. It was probably coming from both, a pussy scent cocktail. If things went much further down here the air was going to get thick.

  Her mind was trying to find a way out but it was a puzzle with no solution.

  The serving girl snapped her fingers.

  Sierra realized that delay would only cause trouble. Going down on this young woman was stupid, refusing to do it would be stupid, but delaying and then still doing it would be the worst of all. Which was the lesser of the evils here?

  If she didn’t do it right way it wasn’t like she could expect the serving girl would just put her bottoms back on and leave. She’d abuse Sierra as well and then Sierra would ultimately go ahead and do it anyway. Even if she didn’t, she’d report Sierra’s failure to Jones and who knew how many ways he knew to punish Sierra.

  Still trying to buy time she crawled over to the serving girl’s chair, purposely making the chains on the shackle clink so the girl would know she was on her way. She was still trying to think of something. Maybe pull the girl down under the table and then overpower her? Sierra was pretty sure she could take the little bitch but then what? She doubted the girl would have a key to the shackles. Holding her hostage would never work.

  Sierra felt despair. Hope fled. Her mind was useless, she was useless. Apparently she was good for only one thing: obeying the wishes of others. If she refused to do as commanded then she wouldn’t even be good for that.

  She might as well look over… the situation. Nervously she got between the girl’s spread wide knees and peered at her sex. The tattooed flames did indeed curl directly out from a trimmed red-brown bush of pubic hair crowning a tight slit that shown with wetness.

  Sierra was shocked to feel saliva flood her dry mouth. She hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since lunch and she’d expended a goodly amount of bodily fluids since then. She was very thirsty. Her body had held a hidden reservoir of saliva and chose now to expend it. The droplets on the girl’s labia appealed to her as much as a pool of spring water. Maybe she’d go down on the girl… just to avoid dehydration….