Under His Thumb

Under His Thumb Chapter 3 by Nikita © 2006

~Cueball~

A tall, beautiful woman stood naked in front of Lindsay with a notebook in hand.  Her posture was perfect.  Long muscular were legs spread about a foot apart while her hands held a clipboard behind her back.  A stainless steel collar elongated her neck and accentuated the bald head.  Rings in her nipples and labia complemented the look.  Armstrong led her in by a leash that he hooked on the wall next to Lindsay.

"This is Cueball and she is mine to use and abuse.  It's not her fault she is here, but that isn't the point. She is used in all manners as you will be as well." 

"Tell her about yourself before," he instructed her.

On command, Cueball, her lips huge, as if stung by bees, spoke without emotion or hesitation.

"I was Angie Page, a free woman, and a virgin in every sense.  My family had social standing and my place in the world was secure.  Norman Page, my grandfather and one of the Sanspeur founders, misplaced some funds.  His restitution was me."

"What are you now?"  smiled Armstrong.

Cueball's cerulean blue eyes, which added to her ethereal beauty, met Lindsay's, "I am nineteen years old."

She hesitated.  "And..." he prodded.  The whip in his hand cracked her flanks.  Lindsay flinched.  "Yours to do with whatever you will," she finished.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions.  Save them for later.  Cueball is here to interview you.  Cooperate fully or else," said Armstrong as he walked out the door.

Lindsay was pissy, but knew better than to open her mouth.  About to complain about the smell from the baptism, she figured if they could stand it, so could she.

Cueball watched her face as questions were asked and answered.  Although she tried not to stare, Lindsay cooperated to a certain degree.  Some of the questions about her masturbation habits and fantasies were answered with lies.  But, they expected that. 

The questions were engineered to provide an opening for ongoing monologue on topics that touched on Lindsay's deepest fears and vulnerabilities.

The interview went on for three hours with a break for Cueball every 30 minutes.  When it was over, Lindsay was drained from talking and desperately needed to relieve herself.

"I need to pee." she said.

Cueball looked at her with indifference.

"Did you hear me?  My bladder is about to burst," said Lindsay desperately.

"Hold it." said Cueball.

"If you don't let me go to the bathroom, I'm going to pee right here." she threatened.

A voice boomed "Do it."

She recognized the voice. Struggling against her bonds, Lindsay was desperate and angry. 

"Your eyes look a little yellow, Princess.  If ya gotta pee, do it," said an amused Kiffer as he walked in.

"Armstrong wants you in his office," Kiffer said to Cueball, who quickly left.

Lindsay let go of a few drops, but looked away at the last minute.

He grabbed her by the hair on top of her head and said, "Finish.  Look in my eyes while you do it."

She closed her eyes and started to release the water. 

He jerked her head again, grabbed her chin, and made her look at him, "Pee...now."

Tears of humiliation and relief ran down her face.  The splashing sound added to her shame.  It took a a minute for her bladder to empty. 

"And now for your first lesson," he said as his pulse quickened in his throat.

He released the hold on her hair and fastened her wrists to a beam high above her head, the ropes digging into her wrists.  Standing on her toes, she was taut as a steel cable, like a guitar string, ready to be plucked.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow," she instinctively complained and watched as he removed something from his belt.

Kiffer was a sadist.  He liked dispensing pain on their helpless bodies, not just because of the training methods, but all the things that lead up to it, and finally, the satisfaction of the owners that followed.

Without any preamble, he started swinging the thick leather strop repeatedly and relentlessly.  Her body rocked and swung like a pendulum as he struck her bum, back, and thighs.

Lindsay screamed in agony and when her screams seemed to fade, Kiffer picked up the cane.  He ran the tip of the cane over her hard nipples.  With all her athleticism and beauty, he toyed with her, lifting and tapping various parts of her body with the cane, making painfully obvious her helplessness.  He slid it down to her dripping pussy, where he dipped the tip inside and brought it up to his lips to lick.

Her eyes were chasms to her soul and the hapless girl eventually succumbed.  He masturbated her with his hand and alternated with the pain of the cane.  Each time he brought her close to cumming, he'd crack the cane on her breasts.  The cycle of pleasure/pain was interminable.  She was driven close to madness until, finally, she was allowed to cum.

It was time for her to rest in her new quarters.  As Kiffer took her down from the beam, Neal came in to support her while she was fettered.

"You will be beaten, often, and for no particular reason other than you are there to be beaten," he lectured.

She cowered as his hands moved to check the hobble. 

Drenched in sweat, Kiffer handed her over to Neal, "Take her."

Lindsay stumbled as Neal held onto her hair as a handle.  They had gone a hundred feet or so and he stopped to see if the coast was clear.  He pushed Lindsay down to her knees and fed her his cock.

"This lesson will be enforced regularly,"  Neal mumbled in low, guttural tones as he watched the tear filled face deep throat his cock.  His hips slowly rocked into her head in a syncopated rhythm.  It wasn't just the fly on the wall who was witness to the fettered young woman on her knees, being forced to swallow her captor in complete subjugation.

~The Webcam Effect~

Clips of Lindsay were sent to Loren Leslie via cyberspace.  He watched them over and over while he fondled his dick with the remnants of her panties that he kept from their first meeting.  Covered in cum, Lindsay was still a dish.  He laughed wickedly as a string of goo blocked one of her nostrils.  God he loved humiliated young women, especially those who seemed to walk on water before they drowned.

~Later~

A sleep deprived Lindsay was chained to the wall by her collar, arms bound above her, and her thighs splayed with a spreader bar.  Pornography on the flat screen tv played continuously.  She was naked save for a chastity belt that housed a computer climax control chip.  The chip was designed to emit a controlled vibration until she reached the point of orgasm, then it would stop.  The cycle of torture, meant to keep her in a constant state of arousal, was continuous.  The trilling of her pussy rendered her willing to do anything just to be able to cum.

At Dick's insistence, Armstrong allowed his secretary, Vera, to observe Lindsay's progress.  Armstrong liked Vera.  She was level headed, no nonsense, and dependable.  He was always trying to hire her away from Dick and figured that someday, she'd see it his way.

"You are getting more exposure," teased Vera.  "I read your interview in this month's DOM Training News.  And here I thought you were shy."

He reddened a bit and she noticed.  He turned up the sound on the monitor and they heard Lindsay's desperate cries.

"She looks a little weak.  Have you fed her yet?" she asked.  "And why is only one of her eyes open?  Is that dried cum on her face?"

"Neal fed her," he smirked. "Wanna see?"

Vera rolled her eyes, "No, not really."

As she examined the paperwork and photos, she remarked, "She does have the makings of a true slut.  I told Dick that the minute I saw her."

"She's not bad.  In fact, she's easier than I thought she'd be." he admitted, "I wish they'd let me do more to her."

"Tsk, tsk..." admonished Vera.  "There is a lot of Dick riding on this one.  Let her be."  And she smiled at her pun.

Meanwhile, he had other whores to train and sell, and the day was getting shorter. 

Before he left, Armstrong pulled out his cellphone and said, "Send in cleanup.  Tell them their asses will be in a sling if they don't stay on top of their game."

Lindsay's eye was caked shut with dried sperm and the rest of her face felt like she had a clay masque.  Kiffer couldn't stand to look at her and hastened the cleanup crew to come with hoses, soap, and a first aid kit. 

The curled up ball of cum deprived slut flesh was oblivious to the sudden burst of activity in the room.  A blast of cold water from the hose took her breath away and she shook and cried at the same time.  They took no notice.  It happened all the time.

They used soap and a wash rag to soften the crusted cum enough to scrub it off.  They gave her a peanut butter sandwich, a glass of milk, and a toothbrush. 

When they were done, Lindsay's skin was shiny and pink and her wet hair was bound it up in a high ponytail.  They even put Visine in her eyes to reduce the redness. She was almost as pretty as a picture.  Kiffer turned to the closed circuit tv and asked a question with his eyes.

Through the loudspeaker came the word "Yes."