Ray Ch. 02: Damsel


“She took over my scene!” Elise screeched, the toe of her platform pump hitting repeatedly against the floor.

“Mistress Natalia,” Lexa started, turning towards her, “is that true?”

She avoided rolling her eyes at the sound of the incessant tapping coming from the couch opposite of where she sat. “Of course not.”

“Yes, you did!” Elise screeched again, her red lips pressing into a pout.

“How?” she asked calmly, directing her gaze to Elise’s glaring eyes.

Elise crossed her legs, her foot continuing to tap against the air around it. “You know how.”

“Actually, I don’t have a clue.” She tilted her head to the side then began slowly pressing her thumb to her fingers, enjoying Elise’s irritation at the satisfying pop that came from each one. “I asked if I could watch. You said yes. At no point did you ask me to leave. I gave the slave no directives. I spoke directly to you at all times if I had something to say. So please, enlighten me as to which of the rules I broke?”

Elise’s eyebrows pinched together, wrinkling her forehead. “This is bullshit!” she shouted, turning back towards Lexa. “She took over my scene and I want her punished for it!”

She looked to Lexa, curious how their Head Mistress was processing Elise’s childlike behavior.

Lexa was well poised as always, her affect and posture denying any clues to the thoughts in her head. Her fingertips ran mindlessly over her husband’s collar as he knelt attentively at her feet. “Did she give the slave orders that contradicted what you told him to do?”

“No, but—” Elise started.

“So she didn’t undermine you?” Lexa stopped her.

“Not verbally, but—” Elise scrambled, trying to explain herself.

“Not at all,” she cut her off. There was nothing to explain. She knew the rules, each and every one, and that knowledge was how she knew exactly how far she could bend them.

“Yes, you did!” Elise jumped up from the couch and began gesturing wildly in her direction.

She watched the temper tantrum, shocked at the undignified domme. The outburst further solidified her premise. Elise wasn’t deserving of the service of a slave like Ray, or any other slave. A position of dominance had to be earned, but Elise was acting like an entitled child.

Elise’s arms continued to flail, her poorly bleached hair flying in several directions. “You know you did! You’re just twisting everything around!”

“Enough!” Lexa interrupted, her tone harsh. “If you can’t determine which rules, exactly, Mistress Natalia broke then there’s nothing I can do other than advise you not to allow Mistress Natalia to be involved in scenes with you, even if it’s just as a spectator.”

“Fine,” Elise huffed, sitting back down and crossing her arms over her chest, “but I want two weeks added to the slave’s denial period.”

She caught her tongue. She hadn’t anticipated Elise seeking vengeance on a slave, especially given how heinous such an act was.

“On what grounds?” Lexa questioned.

Elise’s foot began hitting the floor again. “He was disrespectful.”

“How?” She cut in before Lexa could reply, trying to maintain her composure. “I was there. He complied with everything you told him to do.”

“He allowed you to top the scene,” Elise hissed.

She sat back in her seat, ready to be rid of this annoyance. “I thought we already established I didn’t top the scene, Madame Lexi.” Her statement may have been directed towards the woman seated at the head of the room, but her eyes never left the blonde seated across from her.

“Fine,” Elise started, her smug smile taunting from the other couch, “then I want it added based on non-compliance. He refused to get hard for me even though it was a direct order.”

She tried to think of a mitigating excuse to counter Elise’s argument but realized she had run out of ways to save him. “I don’t think he should be punished because you were unable to arouse him enough for him to get hard.” A slave had no power, so she would speak the words she knew he would want to scream.

“This is bullshit!” Elise jumped up from the couch again, her pale face reddening. “He purposefully didn’t get it up and she purposefully took control of the scene and he allowed it! That’s against the rules!”

“Enough. Sit down,” Lexa began, her fingers tapping against the armrests of her chair. “I’m done listening to this. You have no evidence Mistress Natalia broke any of the rules, but, since you felt disrespected by the slave, I will approve for one week to be added to his denial period.”

The guilt she felt was brief. His orgasm belonged to her, and she had no regrets about taking it back from Elise. Another week may seem like an eternity to him, but she could think up many creative ways to help him pass the time.

“Thank you, Madame,” Elise said, a victorious smile on her face as she took her seat.


The smell of the rubbing alcohol filled his nose, bringing with it a deeper anger. When the cotton ataşehir escort ball touched the skin on his leg he wanted to argue, curse, maybe even scream out his safeword. But his safeword would bring an end to his life in the community, and he wouldn’t allow Mistress Elsa to have that much control.

She smiled up at him then continued rubbing off the date on his leg. He looked away from her, the sight of her face making it harder to keep his silence. His eyes scanned the room from under his brow, glancing over Mistress Rain and Mistress Carmen seated on the couch. Then they moved to Madame Lexi, supervising from her throne, her husband seated quietly at her feet. Ian’s eyes caught his briefly, their depths sympathetic.

Once his skin was free of ink, Mistress Elsa pulled the cap off the black Sharpie marker and started writing the new date. Her left hand grabbed his sac roughly, shoving it to the side to get it out of her way. He tensed at the sharp pain, gritting his teeth while she squeezed as she wrote.

Life wasn’t fair. He’d heard the cliché before, and life certainly wasn’t fair for a slave. He had chosen chastity as his twenty-four/seven collar and knew with his decision came the inevitable fact it would be used to punish him. But that punishment was supposed to be part of the excitement. It was supposed to add to the fantasy, add to the illusion of control. This punishment was vindictive; a final pull at power by a false domme who failed in her responsibilities as his superior.

“I’m done, Slave,” Mistress Elsa said, snapping the cap back on the Sharpie then standing up. “Back on your knees where you belong.”

He knelt down on the floor and for the first time questioned what he was doing. He had decided he wanted to be a community slave, and when he came to the château that was the part he played, but he had never felt uncomfortable in his place until this moment.

“You can crawl back to the waiting room, Slave,” Mistress Elsa said smugly, leaning down towards his head as she spoke. “Maybe someone else will feel like dealing with you.”

Relief was an understatement for how he truly felt. He was no longer in the mood to serve, and he hoped this was the final interaction he would have with Mistress Elsa.

“I’ll take him,” Mistress Rain’s voice sounded from the couch.

He stopped where he was then turned to crawl back to where Mistress Rain sat. His wants and needs weren’t even secondary, they were irrelevant. He followed Mistress Rain on his hands and knees, thankful to at least be serving under an experienced domme.

She lead him to one of the small dungeons and pointed to a wide wooden table in the center of the room. “Get on the table on your back,” she commanded.

He did as he was told, trying to fall back into a mental state of servitude. She pulled his hands towards the corners, securing each to the table with chains. Then she did the same with his legs, spreading them wider than was comfortable for modesty and securing his ankles. She pulled three straps over his torso, buckling them tightly against his skin. Lastly, she pulled a blindfold over his eyes, leaving him in darkness.

The sound of her footsteps moving towards the door surprised him. When the door opened and closed his nerves tensed. He held still, listening for any sound to give assurance she was still there. But she wasn’t talking, wasn’t touching him, and as far as he could hear wasn’t even breathing. No footsteps sounded on the floor, no rustling- nothing. He could continue to deny the situation, but he was too rational to ignore the predicament of being blindfolded, naked and tied down to a table. He pulled feebly against the chains, wondering how long he would be left here. It was Mistress Rain’s decision, and she could leave him here all night if she chose. His legs pulled up, the chains stopping his knees maybe two or three inches from the table.

A creak coming from the door made him freeze. He held still, listening. He wasn’t sure if it was an actual sound or a hallucination his mind was creating to soothe him. Then came a breath, almost imperceptible, inches from his ear.

“Mistress?” he asked into the silence.

“Shhhh…” the whisper came, blowing cool air against his cheek. “We’re going to play a game, Officer Ray.”

His heartbeat jolted, its stumble sending the blood rushing between his legs where it was quickly stopped by his cage, cut off from reaching its destination.

“The game is called How Many Times Can Mistress Natalia Make Officer Ray Beg for Mercy?” Her tongue flicked against his earlobe then dragged its way over the curve of his outer ear. “If you can tell me the correct number of times when the game is over, I’ll let you inside me. I’ll let your cock feel what only your fingers have ever known.”

The cage began lifting away from his body, cutting into his sac as his length tried to come to life. Her breasts pushed into the top of his head as she bent over him, the ache deepening ataşehir escort when the feel of them rubbing against his scalp told him she wore nothing to cover them. Nails dragged slowly through his hair as her tongue traced over his lips. His tongue pushed out and hers slid playfully around it as he tried to lift his head, but the inch he could move wasn’t enough.

Her lips moved to his neck, her tongue tracing over the top of his collar from one side to the next before moving lower. The table creaked when she lifted herself onto it, and he turned his head side to side to kiss the legs he was now straddled by. He tried to lift his head again, desperate for a taste of what he knew was above it somewhere, but no matter how far he stuck out his tongue all he tasted was air.

Hair tickled down his chest, hair he always imagined running his fingers through. Then something cold hit his skin, dragging down his sternum while she crawled down his body. When she bent lower to press her breasts into him the cool metal laid flat on his skin before being dragged over his stomach. It was a key. His key.

Her mouth traced over the date written on his inner thigh. “Don’t worry, Officer Ray. I’ll be sure to make the most of that extra week.”

He sucked in his breath when her tongue licked between the bars of his cage. It covered every visible inch, drawing imaginary lines from his base to his tip. Then it was gone, and the click of his cage unlocking almost brought the word “Mercy” screaming from his lips. He heard a loud clink as his prison hit the floor, the sound of metal rolling against wood echoing until finally back to silence.

His legs jerked up, bending the few inches his bounds would allow when warmth covered his freed skin. Slowly the warmth released him, centimeter by centimeter, leaving him wet and hard. Then her teeth added an abrasion to the smooth silk of her tongue and cheeks. Her hand wrapped around his sac, gently caressing it as if it could soothe away the ache.

His eyes stared into the black fabric rendering them useless. The room was silent other than his breath sounding louder and louder in his own head. All he was left with was the slow stroke of her mouth enveloping him in heat from tip to base before slowly releasing him base to tip.

She was taking her time, maintaining a slow, controlled stroke. Even if he knew the torment would end with his exquisite release, it wouldn’t make it any easier. But this was a different type of torture, a test of his control he always thought he would fail. The punishment for coming outside of his release day was twelve weeks without release, but when he felt the pulse deep within him that made his sac tighten up in a final warning he was torn between satisfying his immediate need and following the lifestyle he lived for.

“Mercy, please, Mistress.” He began the count in his head, imagining how tight she always felt around his fingers. Her lips disappeared but another part of her finally presented itself, pressing into his mouth. He pushed out his tongue, concentrating on her rhythm as she ground into him. He held still, unconcerned with the discomfort of her movement shoving his head into the wooden table. Then she stopped, lifting away from him against his will.

Her hand wrapped around his sac, pulling it up towards his stomach. He groaned when her tongue ran over the tender spot where the ring on his cage always pressed into his skin. There she stayed, sucking and licking the underside of the part of him throbbing in desperation. He wondered if she could feel the incessant pulse like a vibration through her tongue as she caressed him. When her finger pressed into his skin right below where her mouth was and right above his entrance, he thought she would push it inside him. Instead it stayed where it was, massaging small circles into the skin in between.

“Mercy! Please!” he cried out for a second time when he clenched. The words brought her mouth and hand to a stop, then his mouth was covered, her body slick as it rubbed into him. Sometimes he was expected to do the work. Other times, like today, she took what she wanted. He didn’t care if her desires blocked his normal breath. He wanted her to rub her need all over his face, cover him with the pleasure he was bringing her. Her taste was more important than air, and her moans would keep him alive.

“Please, Mistress!” he yelled out in frustration when she disappeared again. His hands pulled against his chains, trying to break free so they could wrap around her and bring back her taste. “Mercy!” He wasn’t done. She wasn’t done which meant he wasn’t done. He needed to feel her pouring into his mouth, dripping down his face.

Her soft laugh taunted his ears before her mouth covered him once again. This time her stroke was faster, her mouth tighter over him. Her finger found its way underneath his sac again, massaging circles into his skin.

“Mercy! Mercy!” For a second he thought he didn’t make it and held his anadolu yakası escort breath until the feeling passed. Was that three or four? He couldn’t remember, and her taste interrupted his attempt to backtrack in his mind. He lifted his chin, shoving his tongue inside her. She rocked her hips back, forcing his mouth over her clit. He pressed his lips to her and sucked in hard, latching on and refusing to let go. She peeled herself away then lowered down one more time before disappearing again.

“Mistress, please! Please!” he begged. He needed her back, covering his face. “Mercy!”

Her fingers trailed up his length, twisting and playing lightly over his skin. Then came her tongue, following her fingers, sliding up from base to tip. When the heat of her entire mouth covered him, he knew he wouldn’t make it another stroke.

“Mercy!” he shouted, his arms and legs jerking up as if they stood a chance at saving him.

Her mouth disappeared just in time, his sac continuing to tighten against his will. Her body presented itself to his mouth again, only long enough for him to have a brief taste before his tongue was left licking at the air. Her tongue found its way to his sac again, circling and sucking before running up his length.

“Mercy! Mercy!” The twelve weeks were seeming shorter and shorter the longer she tortured him. Twelve weeks without release for this one moment of pleasure. Her taste filled his mouth, scrambling his thoughts. It was gone a moment later, and this time when her mouth ran over him he questioned if he’d had enough time to recover.

“Mercy!” His body jerked under her touch, his muscles trying to hold back what was beginning to feel like the inevitable. “Mercy! Please! Please!” he begged when her fingernails trailed over his inner thighs, tracing the date he wasn’t sure if he could make it to.

Her body covered his mouth, halting his continued pleas. She ground into him roughly, forward and back, covering him from nose to chin with her need. Then she was gone, her taste taken from him before his tongue had an opportunity to caress her.

He almost cried out for mercy when her breath hit his length, cold against the wet. Her fingertips circled his sensitive tip making his nerve endings fire through him before her mouth replaced them, sucking lightly until he started to shake.

“Mercy!” he shouted, knowing he wouldn’t last a second longer. He stuck his tongue out, waiting for her. He wouldn’t miss another opportunity. She slid over it, re-soaking his face. He shook his head side to side, smearing her over himself. Her quiet laugh filled the empty air, then she disappeared again.

“Please, Mistress!” he begged when her mouth enveloped him once more, stopping her before she had even made a complete stroke. “Please! Mercy!”

Her mouth disappeared but her fingers traced over him, making him tremble beneath them when they paused at the underside of his tip, lightly teasing it.

“Mercy! Please, Mistress!” His limit was crashing down on him. “Mercy! Mercy! Mercy!” He couldn’t stop the word from screaming out of his lips.

He felt her sit up, the table creaking as she twisted around on top of him. Her tongue traced over his lips, the blindfold pushing up to reveal her hazel eyes staring into his.

“How many, Officer Ray?” she asked, scooting back down the table.

“Huh?” His eyes followed her naked body down, watching as she sat up and positioned herself over his length.

She smiled and grasped him in her hand, rubbing his tip between her folds. “How many times did you beg for mercy?”

He stared at her, unable to form words much less an actual count. All he could focus on was how wet she felt as she slid over him.

“How many times, Officer Ray?” she asked again, holding him over her entrance as she waited for his answer.

He wasn’t sure if the tightness he felt in his chest was a scream about to be unleashed or tears needing to be released.

Her smile grew larger, then she began crawling back up his body. “That’s okay, Officer Ray…” she said, lowering herself down onto his mouth.


She pulled up to the curb behind the black Camaro. She had hoped to have a chance to talk to Morgan beforehand, but maybe it was better this way. The two story house was to her right, standing perfectly and inconspicuously beige in the neighborhood of brown shaded houses. Given the scent when she walked by the perfectly manicured lawn she guessed it had been freshly cut as it was every other week. Whatever needed to be done to continue to blend in, blur into the shades of brown, that’s what was done. She slid her key into the lock on the expresso colored door then walked inside, down the off-white hallway, up the beige carpeted stairs into the khaki painted master bedroom which was used as an office.

“I can’t believe you accepted him,” Morgan said, looking up from the screen on her laptop.

“Why?” She shut the door behind her then went to her desk, casually turning on her computer as if she wasn’t aware a new demon was residing in the camouflaged house.

Morgan shut her laptop then began playing with her newly acquired piece of jewelry, twisting the silver key between her thumb and index finger. “He’s out of his mind.”

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