Her breath was coming in harsh, hard pants now. She could barely control her rampaging emotions. She hated the man with all her young soul, but she loved the way his cock made her come alive. For two weeks, she had been abandoned and virtually alone in this room.
Now she had a man with a virile cock to fuck her yearning cunt. That seemed like heaven to her. If she had to act like an animal, she would. As long as he didn't pull that prick from its hot, juicy berth inside her seething cunt.
"More, give me some more!" he was yelling.
She could barely hear him. The blood was pounding like the ocean's surf in her ears. She could feel the blood excitedly pulsing throughout her lithe body. Her tits were swelling up with the aroused blood and her cunt lips were rigid with lust.
She felt those labia strain as his cock came surging into her pussy. One second her cunt was totally empty. The next, it was filled to overflowing with the thick plug of his cock. It was more than heaven for her, it was close to paradise.
"Oh, master, fuck me harder! I need that prick of yours!"
"Stupid slut!" he snarled. "Bark, don't talk!"
So she barked. She didn't want to do anything to endanger her pussy full of cock. The way it was driving in and out of her, she could feel every detail of its surface. The big blue vein on the very top of the cock was pulsing madly with his lust. She could even feel the thinner veins on the sides of his prick. They, too, were enlarged with the sudden swell of desire in his loins.
She drove her ass back to meet his forward thrust. As he fucked forward, her ass fitted neatly into the curve of his crotch. It was almost as if the two of them had been cut from the same erotic jigsaw puzzle.
"I… oh, I… aieeeee!" the man cried out.
And then she felt a sudden emptiness in her cunt once again. He had yanked his spewing prick from her twat and was hosing her with his jism. Blast after pearly blast of his come spattered onto her back and into her hair. Once again, he had robbed her of not only a climax but the delight of feeling his seething hot jism gush into her greedy cunt hole.
He stood and said, as if nothing had happened, "Keep barking. I want to hear you barking, slave."
She barked. She barked and hated the man as much as she had ever hated anyone in her entire life. It didn't seem fair. She had been locked up here alone for two whole weeks. The hunger in her cunt had been real and the man's prick had been the obvious answer. And he had withdrawn it at the very last.
He knew how much she'd needed that cock fucking her. He'd known and made her degrade herself like some domesticated animal to get it and then had pulled it away at the last second.
The man was a master, alright. A master at molding her feel like shit. Everything he did was designed to put her down, make her feel less than human.
What really bugged Vicki was that he was succeeding so well.
She hated herself as much as she hated Mr. Valentine for doing these awful things to her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Vicki lost all track of time. She might have been in Mr. Valentine's clutches for a week or a year. She had no real way of telling. The girl had thought of doing the old prisoner in the slammer routine of marking a line on the wall for each day, but she had discarded that when she realized that either the maid would erase it or Mr. Valentine would punish her for defacing the walls.
She slept when she wanted and ate whenever she was brought food. This should have been three times a day. Sometimes it felt as if they were force feeding her twice as much as normal and other times, she seemed to go for days without food.
Still, it wasn't too bad an existence except that she was bored. And the occasional visits from Mr. Valentine made her uptight. She didn't like being used.
She could have gotten in to being the man's mistress – if the freedom to come and go as she pleased had been part of the deal. This was a posh mansion and the food was excellent. She was eating things she had only heard talked about on TV. But she wasn't free.
That was what bothered her the most. And, eventually, this overwhelming need for her own personal freedom drove her to think of ways to escape. The problems were obvious.
The chain and dog collar around her neck were permanent items. On some schedule she never quite figured out, either Mr. Valentine or the maid would come in and take her to the shower.
She shuddered thinking of one time when Mr. Valentine had seen to her bath. He had damned near drowned her while he was fucking her. And he had laughed! The bastard had laughed when she came up sputtering water, almost dead.
It was out of the question for her to force the lock on the collar. It was the best money could buy. And she was hardly dressed so that she could figure a way to pick the lock. Clad normally in just the black garter belt and stockings didn't provide her with much in the way of material for an escape.
The only key she knew of to her dog collar was on a string around Mr. Valentine's neck. Getting to it would be difficult because he was on a kick now where he bound her hands behind her back using the soft leather cuffs. Once he got her into this position, she was helpless and at his mercy until he had finished.
Bars on the windows, a sturdy lock on her bedroom door, even if she did escape her dog collar, those would thwart her escape from the mansion. The only route out seemed to be via Mr. Valentine. She would have to wait for him to make a mistake, then act swiftly on it.
Almost on cue, as she thought of the man, Mr. Valentine came striding into the room, an arrogant look on his face. She sighed softly to herself. Whenever he looked this smug, she was in for a hard time.
A very hard, painful time.
"On your feet, slave. I would take my pleasure with you."
She stood. Vicki had long since learned that it wasn't a good thing for her to buck Mr. Valentine, even when he demanded it from her. He had nasty ways of punishing her that seemed to last an eternity.
She hadn't thought the old fashioned stocks like the Puritans used could be much of a torture. She had been wrong. Having honey dipped all over her tits and twat and then having ants released onto her tender body had been sheer agony. Feeling the tiny insects nipping away at her flesh, even going up into her cunt, had almost driven her out of her mind.
Mr. Valentine wasn't a nice man.
"On the bed, slave. I want to fuck you."
It wasn't going to be that simple. She could see him pulling out the leather cuffs he fastened to both, her wrists and ankles. Whatever he had in mind, it wasn't an ordinary fucking. But she obeyed.
The velvet bedspread was soft on her back. And when he fixed the cuffs to her, she tried not to shiver or cry out. He fastened her wrists over her head to a ring mounted in the wall. Looking up, she could see how this pulled her tits almost flat on her body. Her nipples looked like two fried eggs.
It was terrible. But the view wasn't there for long.
The other cuffs went onto her ankles and then the man bent her double fixing her legs to the same ring where her hands were already securely chained.
She was bent double, her cunt widely exposed to the man's every carnal desire.
"Good. Now, slave, get your cunt all juiced up for my cock."
The way he said it, it was as if he figured she could summon up her cunt oils on demand. It wasn't that easy. But she was his slave and he expected her to deliver whatever he requested. It was that simple – for the man.
Then he was on her, his chest pressing down hard into the bottoms of her thighs. This forced her legs down into her tits. She felt as if she were being permanently folded in the belly.
His cock sought and found her dry cunt. But it didn't stay dry for long. Regardless of what he did to her, he was a fine cocksman. He could use that prick better than any man she'd ever found. This was why she would have considered being his mistress – minus all the chains and whips.