My First Night as a Slave Under His Rules

Marcos had shown me every corner of the house before taking me up to his room. The semi-basement kitchen, the dining room, the tiny rooms of the other girls, the garage with its three vehicles, the newly reorganized dungeon. A tray of cold sandwiches waited on the dresser. I was hungry, but that wasn’t what my body was craving.

—Is this when you’re going to fuck me in the ass? —I asked as soon as he closed the door.

—We’ll talk about that —he replied without turning around—. First I’ll fuck your pussy, so tomorrow Andrés can do it again. Then we’ll have dinner. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

I was about to answer back when I realized we weren’t alone. Camila was on the bed, her legs tucked up, a different kind of spark in her eyes. I felt a stab of annoyance I couldn’t quite hide.

—What is she doing here? —I blurted out.

—Fucking, I hope —Camila replied calmly—. And sleeping with the Master. This was supposed to be my night.

—And it will be —Marcos cut in, in a tone that brooked no argument—. Though I’m surprised that after being deflowered a little while ago you still want more.

—I’m broken, Master —Camila admitted—. My cunt and ass are raw. But if you want to use me, I won’t say no.

Marcos burst out laughing and turned to me.

—No need to sacrifice yourself, little one. We’ve got this stupid bitch’s holes.

—I’m no…! —I began to protest, but his palm cut across my face before I could finish the sentence.

The slap was followed by a punch to the abdomen that nearly made me come right then and there, doubled over and gasping for air. Then a trip sent me to the floor.

—Now, like the worm you are, you’ll crawl across the floor to the bed —he ordered—. And you’ll climb up crawling. Understood, bitch?

This isn’t the Marcos I thought I knew.

—Yes, Master.

***

Crawling five meters with my hands pinned behind my back isn’t easy. Meanwhile, Marcos and Camila had lain down and were kissing with an intensity that hurt more than the slap. He was whispering something in her ear. She was smiling. When I finally reached the bed and managed to clamber up as best I could, he stopped me.

—Not like that. Upside down.

—How?… Master —I corrected awkwardly.

—With your head toward the foot of the bed. And first, take off my socks.

I made a move to use my hands.

—Chst, chst! You’re a reptile, bitch. You don’t have hands. Camila, show the stupid bitch how it’s done.

Camila crawled up to him, bit the sock with her teeth, and tugged a couple of centimeters before letting go.

—Enough. Bitch, face up. Camila, spit on her cheek as payment for your services.

The gob of spit landed warm on my cheekbone. Camila crawled back toward the headboard with a mischievous little-girl smile. I finished taking off the socks with my mouth, carried them to the bathroom hamper, and climbed back onto the bed. Marcos ordered me to lick his feet. I started with the top of the foot. He ignored me for a full ten minutes, talking to Camila and hurling insults just loud enough for me to hear. “Stupid bitch.” “Pathetic.” “Mediocre.” Each word burned more than the slap.

I switched to the sole on my own. Then to his toes, the space between them.

—At last the stupid bitch is beginning to understand what her function is —Marcos commented.

—With time she’ll be good, Master —Camila murmured.

***

Then came something else. Marcos lay face down, legs apart, and Camila sat on the cushion with her knees open.

—Eat my ass, stupid bitch. I’m sick of your feet already.

—Yes, Master. I’m dumb and I’m sorry I upset you, sir.

—I don’t want your flattery. I want you to eat my ass. Literally. Camila, show her.

Camila crawled over, gently spread his buttocks, and ran her tongue once down the center.

—Enough. Back to your place. And you, until I tell you to stop.

I brought my face near with reluctance. The first gag convulsed me before I even touched him. But when I ran my tongue over him, I discovered he was clean, fresh from a shower. I licked without conviction, listening to the increasingly cutting insults until my tongue was working with real dedication. Meanwhile, he ate Camila’s reddened cunt until a thunderous orgasm shook her on the cushion.

—Pretty mediocre —Marcos summed up when he pulled me away—. Both of you, on your knees, together, facing sideways.

***

What came next were not blows. It was words, and they hurt more.

—It’s obvious that Camila is a trained submissive. Your performance, on the other hand, is less than mediocre. And let’s not even talk about your pretension of being my personal slave.

—Sorry, Master. I don’t have experience, but I’ll improve. Punish me for my failings, I won’t resist.

—I’m sure you won’t resist —he shot back—. But don’t ask for what you don’t know whether you’ll be able to endure. For masochists like you, you have to look for another kind of punishment, not physical. Otherwise the punishment turns into a reward.

He paused for a long time, looking at both of us.

—I want to make the rules clear. This is voluntary. As long as you aren’t marked, you can quit simply by coming to me and telling me so. Once marked, removing the mark will be painful. I took Anastasia’s off with the clothes iron on full for ten minutes. Let that serve as a warning.

I swallowed.

—We’ll start with protocol. I am a Master and you are not. You will always address me formally, in every situation, unless I say otherwise. When we’re alone, or with people who know about the relationship, you’ll call me Master. If there are strangers, Sir. Is that clear, stupid bitch?

—Yes, Master.

—Your body is no longer yours, it’s mine. Your mind isn’t either. You may work, you may see your family, you may fuck whoever I say, but all under my permission. That means you can be used, insulted, and humiliated at any time and in any place. I don’t want to see a bad face at an insult, a humiliation, or a dressing-down, neither in private nor in public. You will smile and show that you enjoy it.

—And Andrés, Master? —I asked, my voice breaking.

—We’ll talk about Andrés at the end of the night. Now there’s another important rule: you may not use any part of your body to fuck anyone until I’ve come inside it. That’s why I’ll fuck your pussy tonight, so tomorrow you can be with Andrés. But since my semen won’t be in your mouth or on your hands, you won’t be able to use those with him.

Camila raised her hand.

—Master, may I masturbate with my hands even if you haven’t come inside them?

—For your own pleasure, yes. After asking permission first. What you can’t do is masturbate another person with them.

***

—Lie on your back, legs open —he ordered—. We’ll start soft: Camila will eat your cunt while you get her cock hard with your mouth.

I obeyed. Marcos strapped a device around my ankle. Then he made me stretch my arms out in a cross and bring my hands to my shoulders. When he knelt over my biceps and forearms, my arms were completely immobilized. I breathed hard, half from anxiety, half from an arousal I didn’t want to admit.

Camila’s tongue brushed my sex, parting the hair gently. I almost came at that moment. But then Marcos descended and shoved his thick, long cock into my mouth.

With Andrés it had always been different: me on my knees, him standing, or me on top without letting him hold my head. Never forced, never to the hilt. Marcos pushed until he hit my uvula. Gags seized me. I fought to hold them back, relying on the meditation techniques that had so often helped me at work. Camila licked patiently while I tried to stretch out the moment.

***

Marcos saw on the monitor that my pulse had returned to normal and took the opportunity to push deeper. I felt his cock go past the uvula and block every airway. I inhaled on instinct and nothing reached my lungs. My pulse shot up to one hundred and eighty. I panicked for three endless seconds until he withdrew and air rushed back in all at once.

—Easy —he said with a calm that was more terrifying than his blows—. I won’t let you die. But breathing the whole time is out of the question. Take a deep breath.

I took in as much air as my lungs would allow. It went in again. The pressure on my stomach made bile rise up my esophagus, held back by the blockage. I endured ninety seconds until arousal turned into a pure, animal need for air. When he withdrew, I sucked in greedily.

He only needed to cut off my breathing three more times to have her rigid.

***

—Switch —he ordered—. Camila, to my spot. You to hers.

Camila positioned herself over my arms with her shins, but facing my feet. Olha had left her a wrist cuff with a button to reset the timer and two clips that she fastened to her wrists with wide straps tied to the sides of the bed. When she sat on my face, her cunt and ass blocked my mouth and nose at the same time.

Marcos entered me in one brutal thrust while Camila pressed the timer. The screen showed my pulse, my heart wave, and the blood oxygen saturation: ninety-six percent.

Marcos drove in and out with a rhythm that grew harder and harder. In the first minute my pulse hit one hundred and sixty and saturation dropped to ninety-four. I made a move to lift her with my face, but Marcos shook his head from above. At ninety seconds I tried again: two hundred beats, ninety-two percent. Marcos shook his head again and, without stopping fucking me, ripped out a handful of pubic hair. My pulse jumped to two hundred and five. Saturation, ninety-one.

***

At two minutes I was biting into Camila’s cunt on the verge of fainting. Marcos nodded. Camila rose up. I inhaled three times in fifteen seconds. On the third she lowered herself again.

Camila held on at the edge of her own orgasm. Marcos had given her permission to come whenever she wanted, but she knew that if she let go she’d lose the pressure on my face. She waited. My pulse rose to two hundred and ten, saturation fell to a dangerous eighty-eight.

Marcos tore out another handful, thicker this time. I felt him taking a chunk of skin with it. Two hundred and twenty-three. Camila lifted herself for two breaths, lowered back down on the third. I tried to push her with my face, she pulled on the straps with her hands and held herself in place over me. My teeth sank into her flesh. I felt hot blood on my tongue. Marcos slammed a punch into my stomach.

And I came.

A brutal orgasm shook me from toes to crown as the screen registered two hundred and thirty beats and saturation dropped again to eighty-eight. Marcos made the emergency signal. Camila let go of the straps, took off the wrist cuffs, and got down from the bed stumbling. Blood dripped from her pubic area.

She took the oxygen kit, put the mask on me, and opened the valve. My pulse was still at two hundred and twenty-three, but saturation rose to ninety-four. She removed the mask, sat on my face again, this time leaning forward, resting her hands on my small breasts.

—Now suck, stupid bitch —Camila ordered with a new coldness—. You’ve got to make me come.