Perfection-05
Perfecton - Chapter Five
- by xenaRRa
To Kelley without whom this would have remained only a dream.
All characters in this work are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This work may not be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author.
Copyright 1989 by K. Xenarra Brown.
- PERFECTION
- by Xenarra
Chapter Five
On the other side of the glass, Devora had just returned carrying a bucket of soapy water in one hand, a length of coarse rope in the other, and two fluffy white towels draped over her shoulder. She walked briskly to where Constance was posed, her heels tapping out a sharp beat. Setting the bucket and rope down, Devora pulled Constance's face up by the chin and looked her in the eye. "Well, slave?"
"May I move to better beg your forgiveness, Mistress Devora?", Constance responded, her shaking voice betraying again her emotions.
Devora nodded her assent and Constance immediately fell to the woman's feet, kissing and licking the black boots, and promising obedience. The sight was almost comical and Devora was forced to stifle a giggle.
"Stop, slave," Devora commanded. "Get back into the Recite position."
Constance leapt up so quickly to obey that she narrowly missed colliding with her Mistress.
"Yes, well, the Master did mention that you were a bit of a klutz. Maybe we can work on that, too. In the meantime, you haven't saved yourself a beating from me temporarily by your little display. It wasn't very imaginative, and it really didn't show me that you've any desire but to avoid punishment. Constance, the women in this house live as sisters. We have to take care of each other and that means treating each other with respect. You told me that you respect me, but really, you only fear me.
I can understand that, right now. But I think with a little time you'll learn that, if nothing else, I'm following my Master's wishes by trying to help you become a better slave. I'll be honest with you though, I'm easy to piss off. We've only had a few minutes together so far and you've already managed to accomplish that. But it has only been a few minutes, so I'm willing to let you try to make up for your rudeness. Why don't you think of something more appropriate while we see what we can do about getting you clean enough to train. I'm going to instruct you while I clean you up so we won't waste any time. Make sure to remember everything I say; there will be a test."
Devora dipped her hand into the bucket and brought forth a soft bristled brush full of soap suds. As she began at Constance's shoulders and worked her way down the front of her body Devora began,
"You'll have to get used to my bathing you, and get used to bathing me. We are going to be spending a lot of time together. Every slave here has a roommate. We bathe and dress each other, put on each other's make up, and generally try to make life bearable for the other person. Some of the girls here have very good friendships with their roommates. But most of them started out being my roommate. This way everyone learns what is expected and everyone has the same expectations."
Devora worked her way back up Constance's body, and the bristles on the brush scrubbed every pore open, awakening the fiery pain of the prior evening's cuts and scrapes. Constance twitched with the need to move away, but was afraid to adjust her position even a hairsbreadth. Her mind wandered, trying to figure a way out of the room, or just a way to move. Every muscle ached so much. God, if she could just get a back rub to relieve some of the tension!
Devora then shaved her charge and finished the job by dumping a fresh bucket of warm water over Constance from head to toe. After Constance had dripped for a moment, Devora patted her hair dry and applied the soft towel to the curves of her body, removing every drop of water. Devora continued to speak without ceasing during this time, but Constance was so far away in thought that the words were just gibberish.
"Oh, Constance." The sing song tone of voice finally cut through the mental mists. "Where are you?"
"Uh, here, I guess."
"Very cute, slave. How about repeating the rules I've just spent fifteen minutes telling you?"
"Uh, I'm sorry, Mistress, I guess I didn't hear you."
"I see. You were disrespectful earlier and now you've disobeyed me by not listening and remembering when I specifically told you to do just that. Have you managed to think of some way to convince me not to punish you for the disrespect, yet?" Total silence met her query, so she tried again. "Just what were you thinking about while I washed you?"
"A back rub, Mistress," Constance stammered.
"That, at least, sounds promising." Without another word, Devora skinned her body suit off and, spreading the dry towel out on the floor, lay face down to await Constance's best efforts.
'I meant me, you bitch,' Constance thought to herself as she knelt down beside Devora. With a delicacy born of fear, not love, she moved the raven locks from Devora's back to one side. Constance began on Devora's shoulders and moved along out to her finger tips, slowly and thoroughly massaging the muscles, kneading away the tensions. Her skilled hands then worked their way down Devora's back. Constance moved with a firm, practiced touch which was at once relaxing and rejuvenating. After a while, Constance neared the end of Devora's back, and she hesitated just a moment. She looked at her Mistress' relaxed body and decided to continue the massage downward and end with Devora's feet,
"God, I hope you never stop. You have wonderful hands. Where did you every learn to give such a good massage, slave?" Devora's voice was far away and dreamy.
"I took a class once with a girl friend. We thought it would be a great way to meet guys. So did about 20 other women. We all learned how to give each other good back rubs, though. There," she said patting Devora's calves lightly, "I'm done. Feel better?"
Devora flipped over and, raising herself up on one elbow, stared at Constance. "Done? Half done more like. Finish the job." Her eyes flipped shut as she relaxed back ont the towel leaving an open mouthed Constance staring blankly down at her.
"Uh, Uh, I quit the class before I learned . . . well, I mean, I don't know how to . . . uh, you know. I don't feel very comfortable rubbing another woman's, uh, you know. I just can't."
Devora slowly brought her body up into a sitting position, clasped both Constance's hands in hers, and fixed her gaze on Constance's face. Their eyes locked as Devora began to speak.
"Listen, kiddo, I know you're here more by circumstance than by choice. But what you do with this opportunity is up to you. Relax and try to do as you're told instead of throwing your chance away by sticking with preconceived notions of who you are and what you can and can't do. Your past is gone. This is your future.
Constance's mouth felt dry. The woman before her had dropped her role as Mistress for a moment, and the sincerity of the message reached out and grabbed her heart. But it hurt to give up freedom, her friends, her possessions. She could not face the reality that it wasn't possible for her to return to the life she had left the night before. No, this was too much. There must be a way out, if she could find it. Her face hardened as she replied.
"I don't have to be here. If I don't like it here, I'm sure the Master will do something. Then it will only be a matter of time until I'm someplace much nicer than here. With people who really like me instead of just pretending to be my friend." She spoke the words sharply, using them as a knife to carve distance between Devora and herself.
Devora climbed to her feet. She pulled her clothing back on slowly, deliberately. The silent anger which emanated from her body was almost visible. "I guess you know everything." The last word was spat out so forcefully it startled Constance.
"My job, slave, in case you've forgotten, is to train your body to respond to certain commands. Recite!"
Constance though for a moment; then, realizing what was expected, stood up and assumed the position.
"Slow," Devora stated. "And you didn't say anything. Try it again, and say, 'Yes, Mistress,' when you stand. Again, Recite!"
More quickly this time, Constance resumed her stance. "Yes, Mistress," she stuttered. But she was not fast enough, and this time received a smack from Devora's hand on her thigh. "Move your legs more quickly, slave. Again, Recite."
The hand print burning on the white flesh of her leg, Constance returned to a crouch, then sprang up into the position. "Yes, Mistress," she whispered.
"That's better, but I can't hear you. Again, this time quicker and louder. You're proud to be a slave. You're proud to have me for a Mistress because I will train you perfectly. Again, Recite."
'Like hell, I'm proud,' Constance thought and she went through the ritual yet again. This time she moved more quickly and was able to make her Mistress hear her response. Again and again the exercise was repeated, each time Devora pointed out a weakness. Sometimes, especially if she was slow, Constance received another smack. Crouch stand crouch stand. Faster and faster the drill was repeated. The blows came less often now as Constance began responding without any 'think' time. Finally, Devora stopped. Constance looked up from her crouched position in surprise. Both women stared at each other, panting from their exertions, sweat running from every pore.
Constance broke the stare first, dropping her eyes to the floor. 'What now?' her brain demanded, joining the chorus of her exhausted muscles.
Devora straightened slowly from her crouch over Constance, a slight smile forming beneath wicked eyes. "Well, you can do it. I expect that speed every time. By the way, you've been equally as acceptable for the last five minutes or so. I just thought you could use the practice."
"Why you ...," Constance breathed to the tile floor, not daring to raise her eyes or voice disobedience.
"You've done well, Connie. You may choose between a two minute rest or a one minute bathroom break as your reward."
"Mistress, may I please use the bathroom?" Constance tried to add as much subservience to her voice as she could.
"Yes, go now. The clock is running."
Constance sprang to her feet and sprinted to the bathroom where she collapsed on the commode. After she finished, she scrambled to the sink where Devora caught her gulping water directly from the faucet.
"You're late, slave. Why? Recite."
Constance snapped her head up at the sound of her Mistress' voice and smashed her nose on the steel faucet. The blood ran down between her naked breasts unnoticed as she flipped her hands up, feet apart. "Oh, shit. Jesus that hurts," she said without thinking.
"Pardon me?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Yes, Mistress what? Why were you late. Recite. Tell me."
"Yes, Mistress Devora, I was, uh, getting some water, and, uh, I sort of ran out of time."
"You're not sure? Weren't you there?"
"Yeah, I was there. I just got so thirsty that I had to drink something. Look, my nose is really killing me. Can I wash it off or something."
The blood had slowed to a trickle which Devora decided to ignore. "You're pretty casual about things here. If you had paid attention to the rules I gave you while I bathed you, you would have remembered that you are not allowed to eat or drink anything during training without specific permission from me or the Master." She flipped the cord which hung around Constance's neck. "I bet one of these is for obedience. Well, you can't untie that one yet. Now scoot back into the training room. Perhaps you can get back into the pattern you had before I gave you a reward. You were getting pretty good. Go!" With that a swat to Constance's backside that stung like fire.
Constance, remembering the evening of training which seemed years ago, flew into the other room and knelt, head bent, waiting Devora's return. The morning passed slowly, each new position reviving a new set of sore muscles. Every position with a particular expression, set of memorized speeches and an attitude to convey. Every properly learned task rewarded, every failure corrected. After an hour, Devora began rewarding her slave with bites of sandwich and sips of juice. The training went on and on. Time blurred.
Constance found herself face down on the floor, ankles crossed, wrists crossed behind her back in the Tie position, trying to make herself melt into the tile, waiting for another command. Devora had long ago slipped silently from the room. Exhausted, Constance nodded off. On the other side of the mirror, Devora and her Master discussed the training.
"Yes, I see progress, but I don't trust her. She seems willing. But she was very firm about getting out of here. Frankly, I'm not sure she's ready to accept this as a possible solution to her problems. I think she's just performing to keep me off her back while she waits for you or someone to rescue her." Devora was stretched tiredly up against the wall, one arm above her head, the other propping her up. "I've forgotten how much that takes out of me. Boy, I'm beat."
"Well, I see what you mean about knight in shining armor rescue. This one seems to see everything in a pretty unrealistic way. What do you think she would do now that we've left her alone?"
"I think she'll run," Devora responded. "If there was a way out, I think she'll take it. And I think you'd better have those horsemen friends of yours ready if she tries for the woods. We'll never find her in there without help."
"Yes, you're right about that. The boys are already standing by. Let's see. If she runs, we're pretty sure that she's not ready to accept this much structure. If she doesn't, she's either ready to live here or a real chicken shit."
They fell into each other's arms laughing at that. "Oh, kid, what would I do without you?" the Master asked.
"Who else could put up with your dumb jokes?" Devora replied.
He held her a long moment, savoring the warmth of her body. In the other room he noticed movement. "Back to business, woman. She's waking up. She's trying the door. She's opening the door. Come, Watson, the game's afoot. Let's see how far she gets." They padded silently down the hall, staying just out of Constance's sight.
Constance had decided to leave at the first opportunity as she woke up for the second time in one day on a cold tile floor. She was cautious at first, but when she was sure Devora had left the room, she tried the lock immediately, entirely forgetting the two way mirror behind her betraying every movement. She sneaked down the hall, darting from doorway to doorway like a commando. All she could think about was escaping from her tormentor, Devora.
The front door was luckily unlocked when She tried it. Well oiled, it opened soundlessly. She slid out after barely opening it. Once outside, Constance made for the nearby woods. She was running now, head down, watching for exposed rocks or roots that would trip her bare feet. She heard nothing but the sound of her own breathing and the crash of the bushes as she stumbled through the underbrush. She slowed to a walk, out of breath, sweaty, and dirty.
Then, suddenly behind her she heard the sound of mens' voices and the trampling beat of horses' hooves. She took off again, now truly frightened. Although she was running faster than before, it felt like slow motion. She glanced over her shoulder as the first beast and rider came into view.
"Runner ahead," the man sang out. A chorus of male voices answered him and the sound of the horses increased.
Constance was running wildly now. It seemed as though branches leapt at her, clutching her arms, and rocks jumped up to trip her. The horses gained on her, their bodies bearing down oppressively as they closed the distance.
Then she fell, turning her ankle, and was unable to go on. The men drew their horses up in a circle around her. Constance's eyes, wild with fear, took in the sight surrounding her.
Four dark horses ringed her, preventing any escape. Each rider was bearded, bare to the waist, and wore only hat, boots and jeans. Each was fingering a length of rope which hung from the saddle of his mount.
"Well, fellas, looks like we caught us one today," the man directly ahead of Constance drawled. "You boys know what to do."
"Yep," each responded. Then all dismounted and approached Constance. In a flash she was bound, feet together, kneeling, each hand tied by a length of rope to a stirrup, her arms spread wide between the two horses at her sides. The men then removed their dicks from their pants and began stroking them, enjoying the sight of Constance's naked young body so open and vulnerable. Constance wanted to scream, but knew it would do no good. She tried to fight her bonds, but the horses began moving, and she was forced to stop moving for fear they would hurt her.
One by one, each man stood in front of her, fondled her breasts and forced her to take him deep in her mouth. She tried to turn her head away, but each big pair of hands held her firmly in place as they fucked her face. She didn't dare squirm too much for fear of upsetting the horses. She coughed, gagged and sputtered, but each continued until satisfied. They didn't laugh at her discomfort, but neither did they do anything to help her.
Her stomach rose against her; and she turned away to gag, but came up. She just heaved dry, ragged gasps which split the still forest air. Then the men took her mouth again, each eager to satisfy himself fully.
When they had all finished, the men wordlessly loosened her bindings, then rebound her, crossing her wrists behind her back and tying ankles and thighs tightly together. Like so much baggage she was tossed across the back of a saddle. Her head hung close enough to the end of the horse to be caught by the swishing of the very strong smelling tail. The horse was ridden at a trot the entire distance to the house. Constance bounced along on the horse's rump, fighting to maintain her position until her mount finally stopped.
She was hauled off the back of the horse and carried inside where she was unceremoniously dumped like a sack of potatoes at the feet of her Master. Her bonds were cut and she struggled to her knees, placing her head at his feet. The horsemen then stepped to the side, and Constance could see a stern looking Devora standing beside her seated, grim faced Master.
"Well, slave, what have you got to say for yourself?"
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