As she speaks my eyes drift along her shapely body. The form fitting body suite leaves every curve and crevice nothing to be imagined. I raise my arm and run the back of my hand along her masked cheek before lowering my attention. I turn my hand over and gently stroke her chest, just above her exposed breasts.
“Yes. Have Whore 1 take your place here, and be waiting for me in the novice room. I’ll be in my work bedroom in the meantime.”
“Yes daddy.” She answers. I reply by reaching still further and pinching her right nipple hard. With a quick pull, I let it go. She takes this as it is, and turns to open the door for me. Despite seeing bound and nude subservient women of every hour of every day, I still appreciate the beauty they posses.
I cross into the dungeon proper, and walk the length. It contains the same square footage of the above estate, though I tend to have only one or two girls down here at a time. It’s size was designed for two purposes. If ever a girl should get free before being broken, it acts as a maze, making escape to the above house all but impossible. I also host an annual slave festival, when several dozen of the wealthiest perverts descend on my estate for entertainment. Despite the number of RSVP’s, I always have enough room for everyone to have their privacy, should they wish it. Right now, it will host nothing more than Tracy’s training marathon. I make my way into my work bedroom. The floor has been pleasantly heated. I cross the main room into my private bathroom. I want to be clean for Tracy. I want this to be special.
Waiting for me, with a folded towel in hand, is the dungeon maid. She wears a nightmare version of a french maids outfit made of leather straps and silver clasps. An anal hook in her ass is tied tightly to her pony tail, causing her to lean far forward with an arched back an upturned face. With her ankle restrains and eight inch heals, it makes for a dangerous balancing act, but she’s leaned to manage.
“Is my bath prepared?”
“Yes daddy.” The maid had once been an English political essayist. I remember her giving me some trouble during her training. She’d gotten an arm free once and grabbed me by the testicles, in an attempt to blackmail her freedom from me. Leaving her in a position to tear her asshole open at all times was my little treat to her for that. She made no further objections to my treatment of her.
“Strip me. I want to be bathed. Her awkward steps led her behind me. I felt her fingers reach under the collar of my robe. I shrugged out of it, letting her take it from me. She took a moment to hang it on a nearby hanger. During Tracy’s training, she’ll launder it. As she returns, I feel her reach for my briefs.
“No, on your knees. I want you to use your teeth.” A moment of hesitation is her only response, before she drops painful onto her knees. The hook in her ass doesn’t let her reach the ground with her hand without significant pain, and so she’d been forced to simply drop down and absorb the shock into her knees. A small squeak of pain escapes her lips, before she leans forward and puts them to better use. Her teeth grasp the band of my shorts, and tugs down. It takes a moment to realize she’ll need to lean all the way forward. She’s not stupid enough to brace herself against me, so she instead balances herself on her knees and palms, and lowers herself to the ground, all the while keeping her back arched. I step out of my lowered briefs and walk to the large bathtub without looking to her. I step over the lip of my raised basin and into the warm water. As I lower myself into the water, the maid makes her way over to me with washcloth and soap in hand. She takes a moment to grasp the lip of the tub before gently lowering herself to my knees. Lathering the cloth with water and soap, she begins to rub me down. I’m not really dirty, I’d had a bath only a few hours earlier, but I like the sweat to be rubbed off me before I get to work. I’ll work up enough of a sweat soon enough.
As the maid cleans me, her actions raise my thick manhood to attention. She pauses a moment to see if I’ll instruct her do to something about it. I contemplate having her soap up her hand and stroke me to climax. Perhaps holding her head under the water and have her take me into her mouth. I could hold her under until she’s so desperate for air that she struggles. I good struggle could cause the blunted hook in her ass to tear her up a bit. My cock twitches at the thought of hurting the maid so. Again, the maid pauses a moment, eyes darting to my cock for a moment. No. I’ll save my energy to treat Tracy with instead. I lash a fist out to the maids face, knocking her backwards to the floor. Her head bounces roughly off of the ground, causing the hook up her backside to bite painfully into the tender flesh of her anal cavity. A long sharp cry of pain escapes the maid, before she cuts it off in a panic. Gingerly, she raises her head to me with questioning eyes.
“Get the towel, I’m done.”
“Th-th-thhhank you daddy.” She makes her way to her feet and takes the nearby towel. As I step out, she begins to pat me dry with the fine cotton. As trained, she raises my testicles with her hand and purses her lips, as if for a kiss. As her lips make contact to the underside of my testicles, she slurps in, drinking in the loose water, before continuing to pat me dry. A few minutes later I’m dry, and I leave her to clean up without a word.
Outside the novice room, only a dozen feet from my room, stands Whore 2 and the Post waiting outside, flanking the door.
“Daddy,” starts Whore 2, “Everything is in order. What would you like of us?”
I’ve been thinking about this. I’ve decided to do things slightly different with Tracy. She’s to be my new project. I want this done perfectly. Beyond perfect, even.
“The Post with hold a common tray and do nothing else. It will no speak or move, and it’s eyes will stay on the ground throughout. You will act as my assistant and will fetch whatever I like from the table of the Post’s tray. Also, I’d like you to absently touch yourself while I work, as if you are being aroused at the sight of the torture. You may not orgasm, but make it look like you are enjoying yourself.”
“Yes daddy.” They might not understand why I’ve decided they will act this way, but it’s been carefully planned by me. The cow will be the grand demonstration, what she will focus on, but Whore 2 and The Post will act in a similar fashion, only subliminally. Having Tracy see not only a completely broken woman like the Post act as little more than an inanimate thing, without any restraints, will make her realize I can the same to her. The sight of Whore 2 will reinforce the idea that compliance is the quickest way to whatever rewards may possibly be attained. In a few days, she’ll start to come to these conclusions herself, in the time between beatings. She’ll initially reject these ideas, but as more time passes, the more she’ll dwell on them. She’ll never realize that I’m the one that planted the ideas in her head to begin with. I don’t tend to brag, instead letting my work speak for it’s self, but I am on talented sick fuck.