Perfection-11
- PERFECTION
- by Xenarra
Chapter Eleven
Panic gripped Constance by the throat. There was no way she was going to accept Jim as a Master, or as any part of her life again without a fight. She managed to ease her way to the door and begin to unlock it before Jim saw her in his rear view mirror.
The car spun roughly around a sharp corner, throwing Constance face forward onto the center of the seat, her legs dangling helplessly over the edge. Jim stopped so abruptly that she was thrown onto the floor to join her legs. The action knocked the wind from her, both literally and figuratively. But she rallied, and pulled herself up to her knees in the scant seconds between the halt of the car and Jim's opening of the door. She was still facing away from him, and craned her neck around to try to see his face.
"Well, bitch, you're not going anywhere," Jim said as he grabbed a fistful of hair, pulled her head back, and pressed his gun to her temple. Constance immediately went limp. She wouldn't risk her life she would rather suffer at his hands than die. And perhaps by yielding so quickly, he would relax and she could escape. Sensing no resistance, Jim shook her head, wobbling it from side to side. Swearing under his breath, he pulled her backwards from the car, and she struggled with herself, remaining relaxed despite the awkward way he handled her.
Finally, on her bloodied knees before him, head down, chin pressed to her chest, bathed in the cold glare from the streetlight, she felt him press his gun again to her head as he crouched beside him, his free hand on her neck forcing her to remain bent. "Things have changed a bit since we last spoke," Jim said, the sarcasm
of his words cutting through the night. I want you to know that I have no problem using this on you and leaving you here." He ground the gun against her head. "I would suggest you answer my questions quickly and correctly. Do you understand?"
"Yes," struggled past her lips.
"You are a slave."
"Yes."
"And I am your Master."
"No!"
"Bullshit," he swore and pulling her head up, struck her hard across the mouth, twice. Constance felt her lips split and begin to swell under the blows. The blood in her mouth tasted salty sweet, and she felt herself begin to slip away as she wondered where it was coming from. `Why was someone screaming at her? Did it make a difference? Wasn't it much easier to float away?' Then he turned her head to face him, and reality leapt back into focus. She couldn't stop fighting. The stakes were too high.
"What are you?" he asked again.
"A slave."
"And what am I?" he demanded.
"You are a son of a bitch!" she began.
He clamped a hand over her mouth to still the swearing which had begun to pour forth, and slipped his weapon back into the holster while he fought with her for control. Adrenalin pumped through her veins a liquid fire. Head snapping back, body twisting fiercely and impossibly, she broke from his grasp, only to be pulled back. She sought to turn and deliver a blow below the belt with her knee, but with two good hands he could effectively defend himself against her attack. Finally, after regaining his hold a third time, Jim took the gun from his holster and hit her against the temple with the butt end. Constance's world grew suddenly bright, then black.
Constance awoke to find her arms and legs free of bonds. The grass upon which she lay was not terribly uncomfortable, and she took a minute to stretch in the morning sun before she tried to sit up and get her bearings. She could feel each blade against her naked skin, caressing to her gently into wakefulness. It was when she lay on her back, extending her arms upward over her head, that she first really noticed her surroundings. Over her head was a canopy of wire mesh. Turning her head from side to side she could see that she was completely enclosed by a cage made from chain link fence, a cage too small to permit her to rise any taller than on all fours. There was a gate at one end, and Constance got to her knees and scurried toward it, seeking an exit.
"I don't think I'd try to leave, if I were you," said a voice from behind her. "The gate isn't locked, but then it doesn't need to be." The laugh that followed sounded unspeakably cruel. Constance turned within the narrow confines to face her tormentor and saw Jim, towering above her cages, holding four jet black Dobermans who strained against their leashes. At the sight of the dogs whose every attention seemed focused on her unprotected body, Constance began to whimper and cower, pulling herself into a tight ball.
"Your cage isn't locked, but I think I'd stay in it as much as possible. These are just a few of the dogs I keep around. And usually, they don't wear leashes. I find it keeps unwanted guests at home." He laughed again, and Constance could see him as the truly evil man he was. He walked about her cage, allowing the dogs to edge ever closer until they were nuzzling and snapping at the chain which kept her safe.
"I only want to hear two words from your mouth, and I think you know what I want to hear. What are you?"
"Slave."
"And what am I?"
"You are the biggest bastard that ever walked the earth!" Constance exploded.
Jim dropped the leashes and the dogs sprung at the cage, teeth gnashing ferociously at they fought to get at her through the chain. Constance began screaming hysterically, scuttling from one end of the cage to the other to escape them while Jim laughed uproariously at the entertainment. After several minutes of her terror, he whistled and they returned reluctantly to him. He took up their leashes and again asked his questions.
"What are you?"
"Uh, uh, uh, uh. . ." Constance was sobbing so hard the words refused to come forth. "Slave."
"Now think very carefully before you answer this next question, slave. I don't have to leave the door to your cage closed, you know." Constance began to shake with new terror. "What am I?"
"Master," she spat, the word distasteful in her mouth.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Jim said, a smirk on his face as he let the dogs jump for her cage once.
"Master," she screamed, scrambling to the opposite side of the cage in a vain attempt to escape.
"That's better, slave. I'll be right back." Jim strode off with the dogs and Constance fell heavily on her belly at the center of the cage, content for the moment just to regain her breath. All too soon, he was back. She looked up as he approached and noticed the large, ugly looking whip which hung easily from his hand.
"I've put up the dogs; so, for the moment, the only one you must fear is me. Stay on all fours, let yourself out of the cage and come over here. If you disobey or speak, I'll be forced to punish you." With that, Jim took up the whip and cracked it expertly in the air. The amount of time it took Constance to weigh the alternatives was minute. Although her muscles were still stiff from the night before, she left the cage and was at his feet in a remarkably short time.
"Very good," he said, and patted her head, then forced a dog kibble between her lips. She spat it out angrily and attempted to bite his hand. In a flash he grabbed her arms out from underneath her, dumping her face forward into the ground. He tied them behind her, then attached a spiked collar and a leash to her neck. He pulled her forward until they reached a log which had been fastened between two poles approximately two feet above the ground. Constance's head and shoulders were forced under the log, and the leash tied in such a way to prevent escape. Jim kicked her knees apart roughly, leaving her completely helpless and totally exposed. Although she could no longer see her tormentor, she could hear his ragged breathing as he began to speak.
"You are the lowest of all life forms. Even dogs have more sense than you. Especially dogs. Dogs won't refuse food, and they won't bite the hand that feeds them." All during his tirade, Jim had been applying his hand to Constance' backside. She tried to squirm away, but tied as she was, her attempts only made her more uncomfortable. "You might have had a chance at serving me in a more conventional way." He began to touch her exposed sex, to move his blunt finger against the little bump of her clit until, despite her fear and anger, her juices began to flow. Her body pressed back against that hand, hungering for its touch even as her mind screamed its protests. "But not now." He took his hand away and slapped her rump again, even harder than before. "No, you have proved yourself to be a new kind of animal. You are a cunt, and will be called that from now on. The parts of you which are so willing to serve me," he again dipped his hand into her sex which now dripped in anticipation, "will be allowed to serve me.
"And if you decided to act in any way to show that you are not an animal, you will be punished like this." Constance heard the whistle of the whip through the air a split second before she felt its burn against her thighs. Her screams ripped through the air as the lash fell again and again against her unprotected legs. When it ended, Constance had only one thought through the dim fog which was all there was left of her consciousness: To avoid that lash at all costs.
Then Jim took her. Her tender buttocks could feel the cloth from his pants as he pressed his weight against her. So great was his excitement, his urgency, that he had not even lowered his garment, merely freed his penis and plunged it into her cunt.
"You are a cunt," Jim grunted as he worked his dick inside her. Back and forth he pressed, fucking her deeply, lifting her off her knees with his thrusts. Then he abruptly withdrew, and Constance relaxed. But his hands were still working her; and, dipping his fingers into her juices, then driving them into her anus. "You are an animal, and you will be fucked," bellowed Jim as he pushed prick into her ass. The pain from this sudden intrusion surpassed even the lash. And the humiliation at being taken in such a fashion broke down her last defense. She no longer cared how he hurt her, if only he would let her die soon.
Her cries for mercy were muffled by the log, however, and Jim continued to press into her again and again, punctuating his pleasure by slaps to her belly, pussy and thighs. His thrusts were deep and long, again and again he seemed to rip his way past the entry to her backside until she was sure the lubricating fluid must now be blood. He came, finally, and pulled out as he did so, spraying the sticky substance onto her skin. He rubbed it into the welts he had made, then petted her much as one might pet a cat.
He left her there for what seemed hours, securely fastened to the log, until another man came, unbound her save for the collar and leash, and led her back to her cage. She entered and gratefully allowed sleep to over take her. Bowls of water and dog food provided the only sustenance allowed her. The dogs were allowed loose that night. Constance did not sleep as the horrible monsters paced around her cage, all snarls and wetly gleaming teeth.
The next few days followed a similar pattern. Sometimes Jim brought someone with him, others he came alone. She defied him every day, and every day he broke her will until the day she no longer cared to defy him. On that day he came mid morning as was his custom, and after extricating her from the cage, he asked his questions.
"What are you?"
"A slave, Master," she responded automatically.
"Excuse me," Jim said, forcing her to repeat herself. But she no longer had the will or strength to fight him.
"A slave, Master," she repeated, louder, not caring who might hear.
"Prove your devotion to your Master, cunt." Jim pressed.
Constance crossed her wrists behind her back, bent to kiss Jim's feet, then turned about and spread her legs, opening herself for his use.
"A willing cunt at last," Jim exclaimed, patting and prying into her cunt and anus, checking her willingness.
And so the pattern of Constance's days changed slightly. She still slept in the outdoor kennel and took her food from bowls. But now she was brought to the house and required work in the kitchen at the lowliest of tasks. After she was finished in the evening, she was led on all fours into the library where the guests had gathered. Constance was just a toy for the people gathered there, men and women already high on booze and cocaine. She was not allowed to speak, but was forced to take all comers.
She was convinced that Jim or one of his guests would eventually go too far. And so, the time she was allowed to herself she spent devising ways to escape once and for all by killing herself. But somehow she could never gather the courage to use one of the weapons lying about, either on Jim or on herself. Perhaps this was due to the unreal atmosphere imposed by the constant flow of alcohol and drugs around her. Perhaps it was fear of failure or hope for the future. Whatever the cause, the nights endured at the hands of her cruel captors stretched ahead and behind her like the endless mile markers of a highway.
Any of her former masters would scarcely have recognized Constance had they seen her after several weeks of this sadistic treatment. Unable to obtain proper food, she lost weight so rapidly she began to look skeletal. Her hair, seldom brushed or cared for, became matted and ratty looking. Her fingernails chipped and split, her skin achieved a gray cast, and her eyes grew dull and lifeless. It became increasingly difficult to pry her from her cage she preferred to lie on the ground and pretend she was elsewhere.
Then came the day she refused to move, and no amount of coaxing or threats could budge her. She was left to bake in the cage all day until night began to fall. The wire enclosure was then merely lifted from above her body and put down a distance from where she lay. The sight of the dogs straining eagerly against their chains brought her immediately to her feet. Motivated by fear, she surprised her captors and set off at a good pace for the house, ignoring the shouts and commands behind her. She could hear the men and dogs closing behind her, but felt confident that she could gain the house before they reached her.
Suddenly, out of the gathering dusk, a figure stepped out and reached for her. She torqued her body and slipped from his grasp, but in the process lost her balance, twisted her ankle, and went down. In a flash he was upon her, and she could see Jim's grin leering down from above as she clutched her foot to her, trying to relieve the pain. She tried to move away, but his hands held her legs fast. Her pursuers caught up as Jim slapped away her hands and began to move the ankle amid her cries and moans and the cheers from the other men. She nearly passed out from the pain the grinding motion caused.
"They tell me you have been a bad little animal today. Is that right?" He twisted the ankle harder and she screamed with the pain. If it wasn't broken already, it soon would be at this rate. "I guess one scream means yes, two mean no, wouldn't you agree?" he said, looking up at the others. The men laughed coarsely. The fear and loathing on her face were evident as Jim continued. "Well, we have a treat for disobedient animals. Actually, its more of a treat for the other animals."
By now the dinner guests had begun to file out of the house and onto the lawn in a circle about Constance. She was acutely aware of the differences between their sleek, shiny clothing and perfect hair styles, and her own filthy body. One of the ladies began to laugh and point at the two of them: "Look, everybody, beauty and the beast. Only look who's the beauty and who's the beast?" The laughter rolled around Constance, beating her into submission more completely than any whip could ever manage.
Grabbing her collar, Jim stood her up. He took from a servant a basin and a sponge and began dipping the sponge into the sticky, red fluid and pressing it against Constance's breasts and sex until the liquid dripped from her body. He then threw the sponge to the leashed dogs. As they fought for possession, Jim took the remainder of the fluid and poured it over Constance's head. It cascaded down, leaving red trails over her body, as the audience applauded.
"Ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages," Jim began, imitating a circus barker. "Come one, come all, to the most spectacular slave chase ever. You may have been on a fox hunt before. You may even have had the unique pleasure of hunting your fellow man. But you have never experienced what you are about to witness."
"This disobedient slave, really more a cunt than anything else, as I'm sure many of you can testify. Knowing glances and smiles were exchanged around the circle. "She has decided to defy me and run like a person instead like the animal she is. So, I've decided to give her the opportunity to prove herself."
"She has been liberally coated with the blood from that very tasty roast we enjoyed at dinner, and her scent has been given to the dogs. Now she has a cage about a mile and a half from here. The dogs will be held for 30 seconds. She only has to run from here to there and beat the dogs. Of course there is a catch we moved the cage, and she doesn't have any idea where it is now. So first she has to find the cage, then get inside before the dogs get her."
Gasps of admiration met this announcement. Constance looked at him in horror. So this is how he meant to kill her. She looked at the dogs still fighting over the meager scraps of sponge and began to scream silently her mouth open but no sound issuing forth.
Jim swung her around to face him, holding her collar tightly between his hands. "I hope your ankle won't slow you down any. The dogs are pretty hungry." He then shoved her away from him and shouted words after her. She could not tell what he had said and didn't have time to worry about it. All she could think of was running. Once before she had run from danger. But the four horsemen who had caught her so long ago seemed as safe as kittens compared to what now pursued her.
Unable to put her full weight squarely on both feet, she ran with a lopsided gait. Stone, stray tufts of grass and randomly placed holes all conspired to try to bring her down. She ran first to the place where the cage had been in the vain hope that Jim had been lying, and it would still be there. But upon gaining the clearing and finding it empty, she searched frantically for signs of the cage's passing. Off to the right she noticed a bush which had been overturned by something heavy, and she headed along what she supposed was the correct path at top speed.
By now the dogs had been running for a minute, their noses pressed to the ground to track the blood which still dripped from Constance's body. The sound of their howls shook the night air, and Constance trembled clear through to the bone as she stumbled along through the brambles in search of her safe haven. Animal like cunning overtook her panic as she began to search about her for something heavy with which to fight off the impending force. Her eyes spotted a heavy branch, a little longer than was comfortable, and her hands picked it up reflexively even before her brain had registered its existence.
But the trail she followed slowly blended into the underbrush. She had been tricked. She doubled back and discovered an unexpected stream. Immediately she plunged into the icy water, the desire to hide her tracks overriding all others. The water stung each scrape and scratch into painful existence; but it also dulled the pain in her ankle and washed some of the blood from her body. She ran upstream for several yards, splashing the water up onto her body as she ran, before exiting.
On and on she raced through the blackness. All the forest now looked alike and none of it looked at all familiar. Over her shoulder she could see the lights of the mansion against the sky. She could also hear the dogs closing in on her. Thankfully, she had maintained a tight hold on the staff through the creek and still clutched it firmly when the first of the dogs broke through the underbrush. She swung and the air whistled with the force of her blow. It struck the dog behind the ear and rendered him unconscious immediately.
But another dog came upon her, and another, and another. These were more wary dogs; dogs less interested in getting the first piece of her than they were in getting several decent mouthfuls. They formed a circle which tightened bit by bit. The only thing which prevented their attack was the stout club Constance continued to swing about her as she backed up.
Then she was stopped in her slow march backward by a tree. Unable to continue defending herself from all sides she made a desperate leap for the lowest branch, and caught it. She hauled herself rapidly up the tree while the dogs circled below and howled. Edging her way out on a branch like a treed opossum, she looked below and spotted her cage. Catlike she dropped without thinking to its top, then leapt down and dodged inside one step ahead of the dogs.
She cowered in the center of the cage as they snarled and struggled against it to gain entrance. And quietly, amid the terrifying confusion of the dogs, the chase, the night, and the bastard who claimed to be her master, the last vestiges of her sanity slipped away. The hysterical sobbing stopped suddenly, and she lay absolutely still, a wide awake, breathing corpse.
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