"This is not the time for little boy games with the partner. Put your life out of your mind. It's finished." He paid no attention to the sobs. "It's not that you're going to die, you idiot; rather, the life you've known is coming to an end. You are now my plaything. You are nothing more than that. My pet. My concubine and my slave. I will instruct you to obey what I say. It's possible that over time you'll grow to either adore it or despise it. That has no bearing on my concerns in any way. None at all. But I will say this much to you." Once again, he drew her closer to him till she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. "If at any point in the future you attempt to pull away from me or put up any kind of resistance to me, you will be punished severely. "

His tone was icy, and even though he seemed to be smiling, his eyes remained expressionless even as his lips moved. Martha had the uncomfortable sensation of a heated, pointed fear running through her inside organs. She felt the wooziness of another faint coming on as it washed over her. Richard seized her by the scruff of the neck and demanded to know what was wrong "If you pass out again, Martha, I will bring you to consciousness in a manner that you will find to be most unpleasant. Enough with this Victorian nonsense. Take a stand."

Martha eyed him with wide eyes and a quavering lips as she continued to gaze at him. However, she had an innate understanding that there was absolutely no space for discussion. The unfortunate young lady rose up next to the mattress while she was nude, but she stumbled a little bit. Richard grabbed her wrists firmly with one hand as they were shackled together and hoisted her arms to a position far over her head. Before she had a chance to respond, he had fastened the chain to a hook that was strategically positioned in the ceiling.

Martha clenched her fists around her eyes and let out a terrified groan. "Nice tits, if you're like that kind of thing,". Richard tinkered with one of Martha's nipples in a playful manner. The nipples were rather delicate and light pink in contrast to her skin that was much whiter. Richard took two wooden clothespins out of his pocket and displayed them. He twisted one nipple between his rough fingers and said, "A little on the little side," as he did so. Martha heaved a sigh, but pulling back just served to heighten the strain that was being placed on her breast. She made an effort to keep her composure. Richard let go of the nipple, which, in contrast to the other nipple, immediately stood at attention after being let free. Since Richard was a fan of symmetry, he tugged and twisted the second nipple until it too was standing at attention in a dark pink color.

"Good. When irritated, they expand in a pleasing manner, "he said out loud, even if she wasn't the intended recipient of his words. She was little more than a distraction for him in the here and now. "Now, I've come up with a fun and creative little game. The term for this is rotation. If I don't want to mark someone, or if I just want to see them suffer again and over and over again, that's when I use it. The level of discomfort dramatically rises each time that the pin is turned. This particular method of torment is particularly effective because it causes severe discomfort without actually slicing into the victim's flesh. This method is far more efficient than using clamps, and it also saves money." He beamed a nasty smile as he slid one of the clothespins free while Martha watched, her eyes widening in dread. He did this by first pulling her nipple apart from the rest of her body and then letting the clothespin fall onto the expanded nubbin.

Martha screamed and tried to pull away, but the clothespin was firmly coiled and remained clamped on her nipple. As she pushed back, the clothespin moved slightly back and forth. Richard smiled and nodded his approval as he said, "Very beautiful." After that, he grabbed the second pin and swiftly pulled the other one of her nipples, allowing the pin to snap shut against it in the same manner that he had done with the first.

"Stop! Stop, stop, stop! What are you doing to torment me like this! Oh, God, please! It's very painful! Stop!"

"It is intended to be painful. Now close your mouth, because if you don't I'll put that disgusting duct tape on it again. Are you sure you want that?"

Martha gave a little head shake and lowered her voice to a cry. Her eyes were wet and filled with a begging look. Richard saw that his cock was becoming more rigid in his trousers. He adored the expression of helplessness and horror on her face. He delighted in the knowledge that he was the one responsible for it. And now for the really agonizing part. When he had both clips in his hands, he pressed them together to loosen their hold on Martha's breasts. She hissed involuntarily as the blood began to flow back into her nipples, which had become painful.

Richard gripped her skin once again before repositioning the pins at a different angle. He removed the pins after around 15 seconds, at which point Martha's nerves were once again activated, and she experienced the anguish once again. He clasped and unclamped her poor nipples so many times that they had turned from a light pink to a vibrant cherry red color by the time he was through. Martha was wailing with her head thrown back and her eyes shut. Richard couldn't help but give her nipples a nibble since they were standing so proudly, and he just couldn't help himself. Now they shone brighter than ever thanks to his kiss. Because his cock was uncomfortable in his jeans, he made a little adjustment to it.

Martha seemed to be on the verge of dozing off at this point, limp in her shackles. However, her rapid breathing was a dead giveaway. The next statement of his was certain to jolt her awake. "You're about to get your first spanking, so brace yourself. If I had to guess, I'd say this is your very first time." His chuckle was resonant and vindictive. Richard removed a little riding crop from his jacket and gently whacked Martha's pert tiny breasts, being careful to avoid her swollen nipples in the process. Martha implored him to let her down, but his response was either deafening silence or uncaring indifference to her pleadings.

In the room with the mirrors, the sound of the rough leather square of the crop being rubbed against the smooth skin created a smacking echo. Martha's shriek served as an appropriate response to each blow. The young lady's large breasts were elevated even more by her arms being stretched above her head, and her black hair tumbled down her shoulders. All of the mirrors reflected the same image of the nude young woman. Richard pressed the crop on her behind, causing it to wiggle as a result. It was amusing to him to see the large ass get pink as it bounced. Martha twitched and made an effort to get out of the path, but it was impossible for her to do so since she was constrained and tied in chains.

The volume and intensity of Martha's pleas for help increased significantly when Richard started using the crop on her back. Her derriere was, at least, shielded from the punches by a generous amount of padding, but her back was more delicate, and the stinging strikes were peppering her skin. She attempted to evade the crop by turning away from it, but it caught her cleanly across one breast as she did so. Her screams escalated into an agonizing screech, and she started crying even though she was trying so hard to keep her eyes closed out of dread. Richard was aware that the blow to the nipple must have felt like a flame was being applied. But he was also aware that this was not an especially harsh beating; any reasonably trained slave could have endured it in silence without making a peep or a sound of protest. with the exception of that one whack to the already throbbing breast.

But Martha was not a slave at that time. Not even close. She hadn't even started to fathom what it was like to be in pain at that point. However, she would acquire knowledge swiftly. Richard was an enthusiastic and hardworking educator. He smiled at this wordless description of himself and then proceeded to whip her more severely, hitting her in the stomach, her sex, her back, her ass, and her thighs. He continued until she was in tears. Martha found herself compelled to start dancing, shrieking, and leaping as she attempted to dodge the harsh strikes that were hurting her. Richard's strikes got ever more forceful as she sobbed and begged, and he left furious red markings all over the virgin's body. Despite her tears and pleading, this just appeared to encourage Richard to continue his assault.

When he finally came to a halt, Martha was completely drenched in perspiration. She was startled to discover that she had wet herself when she felt a warm trickle of liquid pouring down her leg. She had accidentally wet herself. Even Richard came to the same conclusion. He hissed at me, his voice dripping with contempt as he said, "You dirty pig." He essentially forced her to the mattress, where she was left drenched in her own pee and was left to weep herself to sleep.

As he closed and shut the door behind him, he made a promise to me: "Tomorrow, your true training will begin."

It had been many hours. Martha knew that she must have dozed off because, when she tried to open her eyes, the haze of her dreams caused her to suddenly get confused, and she believed for a second that she was at home in her own comfortable bed. It even smelt like home, and the aroma of baking recalled to memory her mother's warm and cheery kitchen where she used to spend time with her while she was growing up. But the shackles that were on her wrists and the urine-soaked mattress that was under her bare body served as an immediate and terrible reminder that she was not in her own house.

Martha was having trouble sitting up when she saw that a tray had been placed next to her and had a dish towel draped over it. Martha reached out hesitantly and pulled the towel off the table. There were three warm muffins tucked away in the bottom of a basket, along with an empty cup and a little pitcher that smelled like coffee being brewed. Even a little creamer and sugar dish made out of earthenware were included. Martha became aware that she was famished and surprised at the fact that she was even able to think about food despite the fact that she may be killed at any minute.

She had always been a sensible young lady, so she reasoned that she would as well go to her grave well fed as starving. She ate a sizable portion of a muffin as she reached for it. It included fresh blueberries that were baked into a soft and warm bread, and it was really amazing. It's possible that the notion that this may be her last supper contributed to the dish's exceptional flavor. She made the decision to attempt to pour some of the coffee, and she spent a few seconds trying to arrange herself in such a manner that the heavy chain that was hanging between her wrists wouldn't come in the way of her doing so.

When the door opened on its quiet hinges, Martha let out a scream as her chains clanged against the coffee pot, causing the lid to fly off in a little heap on the floor. "I hope your morning is going well, Martha. It seems that you have already located your breakfast. I'm sorry, I didn't want to shock you. Please forgive me." The tall, dark guy entered the room while smiling at Martha, who was now sitting with her knees pulled up in an attempt to conceal the fact that she was nude.

"Last night I was quite impolite, and I neglected to introduce myself to anybody. I am known by the name Steven." He waited for what seemed like an eternity, as if she was going to react with a polite greeting such as "how do you do" or another usual greeting. She did nothing except look at him, her already huge eyes widening even more in response to her terror.

It seemed as if Steven paid almost any attention to the fact that she was bound and nude. They could as well have been holding a tea party for all it seemed like. He crouched down close to the tray, and in a solicitous tone, he said, "Allow me to lend you a hand with that. Do you take sugar? Cream?" His tone became considerably more stern when Martha didn't reply to him "Have you been bitten by a cat? When I talk to you, answer my questions. Keep in mind where you are." This was not a tea party by any means.

As she attempted to respond, Martha's voice began to break. She started again, and this time she said, "Both, please." Steven added the sugar and cream with deftness while he was still kneeling in an easy balancing position. He gave her the cup while stirring the coffee and then handed it to her. She didn't dare deny him. Just like the muffin, the coffee was fantastic, having been freshly prepared and full of flavor. She did her best to steady her shaking hands while appreciatively sipping the beverage.

She dared to say it since he seemed to be so kind and even nice "Obviously, my father has a lot of money. If you need money, I guarantee that I will be able to acquire it for you. -"

He interrupted her while giggling. "You silly little girl! No, we are not interested in financial gain! Don't worry about us; we have more than what we need. We want you! You are our brand new toy, as I'm sure you already know. I am aware that you are not yet used to the concept, but this is now your life! There is no way to undo this. Ever. Forget Evan, forget Mommy and Daddy. Now, Richard and I make up your whole universe. Period. It will be to your advantage to get used to it as quickly as possible."

"You will not get away with what you've done! You shall suffer the wrath of God!" This came out of Martha's mouth in a very high-pitched squeak.

Another chuckle came from Steven. "Well, it seems like that's going to be our issue, not yours, would you agree with that?"

"You will be found by my folks. You'll go to jail–"

"Enough," he said, his tone becoming more stern, and his gaze becoming more intent. "If they find us, it is because we have failed to execute our tasks and we have earned their discovery. You are a part of our group in the meanwhile. We've taken you, if you like. You are our property, and we may utilize you in any way that we see suitable. Now be quiet or I'll blow my stack at you. That is not something you would desire."

Next to Martha, who was slouched over her mattress and looking up at the ceiling, Steven assumed a crouching position himself. He stretched out and put his hand on the cloth, which was still moist. "I see you had a small accident here," Steven said, pointing to her wet bed, as he spoke the phrase. "It would seem that Richard does have such an influence on others around him. Let's get you cleaned up. He dislikes it when his toys are soiled in any way. Oh no, we can't afford to make Richard angry. That is not going to work at all." Steven used a tone of speech that was casual and easygoing, as if he were discussing the weather or the grandma of a friend. The very mention of Richard's name brought back the serious expression on his face, his slate gray eyes gazing through her as if she didn't exist, or much worse, as if the very fact that she did exist was an insult to him.

In her mouth, the coffee had thickened to the consistency of muck. Martha lowered the cup on the table and, trembling, attempted to cover herself once again. "Having fun yet? That's not a problem at all. Even though I baked those muffins just for you, I'm not going to take it personally that you've lost your appetite. To be honest, it seems like you could use to drop a few pounds in any case, is that right, Martha?" Martha's face turned a bright shade of red as she struggled to contain her anger and humiliation at the fact that he had called her obese and made the comment. Evan affirmed to her that he like her in her natural state and that he found it feminine and appealing. She had believed him, and the pleasure she took in sweets contributed to her belief that there was no need for anything to alter.

"No need to be alarmed, however. We'll make sure you get your workout. But before we do anything else, let's get you cleaned up! Richard is highly picky when it comes to his personal cleanliness. For his games, he is going to expect you to be neat and tidy all the time. First, I'm going to take the handcuffs off of you, but don't even think about doing anything as idiotic as running away from me once I'm done. Richard and I both have a lot of strength, and we live in the middle of nowhere extremely far away from everybody else." Steven took a little key off of a necklace that was around his neck and utilized it as he was speaking. While Steven extended his hand to Martha, Martha stroked her wrists nervously. "Up you get!" Martha grabbed the offered hand despite her strong reluctance, as she did not dare to decline it.

He took her from the room with the mirrors and brought her down the hall to a washroom. The temperature in this chamber was lower than in the one she had been confined to before. Martha shuddered and crossed her arms over her breasts to keep from becoming cold. Steven indicated the restroom with a point. "Do you need to leave?" Martha seemed to be shaking her head, but she wasn't. She was not going to urinate in front of this man under any circumstances.

"You are free to do as you choose, but you should know that if you continue to urinate in your bed, you will be disciplined for it. If you really want to suppress your laughter, make sure you do it even more skillfully than you did the prior time!" As he saw Martha redden and lower her head, he couldn't help but crack a smile. He escorted her to the shower and started the water before entering.

"I'm afraid you're in for a chilly shower. You're going to have to work for that sizzling one. And you surely haven't done anything to deserve that just yet!" Martha was coerced into stepping into the chilly spray of water by Steven, who pushed her. She whimpered and fumbled her way out of the room.

"Martha, you should stay in. If you don't come in, I'll make sure you stay inside." The threat was ambiguous, yet it was sufficient to get the poor girl to comply with what she was instructed. She behaved pitifully as she stood there in the mist. Steven grabbed the bar of soap and proceeded to massage it all over her body, creating a lather in the process. "Feet shoulder-width apart and hands behind your head," was the instruction he issued. Martha put herself in the position that was expected of her, despite the fact that the cold was making her teeth rattle and her cheeks was hot with embarrassment.

Steven gave her a thorough lather, pausing for barely a split second to concentrate on her nipples and pussy. He went so far as to wash her hair for her and then instruct her to rinse it. He grabbed her hand and assisted her in getting out of the bathtub before using a huge, absorbent towel to aggressively but effectively dry her off. As he took her back to her mirrored cage, her thick, black hair flowed wetly down her back like a waterfall.

Martha was happy for the fact that it was warmer in there, despite the fact that she was still shivering from the cold shower she had just had. The mattress was gone, leaving behind just the barren room, which had a number of enormous hooks that gave off a sinister appearance strategically positioned on the floor and in the ceiling. Martha saw her own nude body reflected in the mirrored walls wherever she looked. The reflections seemed to go on forever. She glanced down, feeling even more humiliated than before.

After spending some time away from her, Steven returned with a huge box that he slammed down forcefully on the ground upon his arrival. He ordered, "Kneel," while pointing to his feet for emphasis. Martha crouched down and curled herself into a ball, acting as if she might vanish. "Hands out in front of you, forehead to the floor, and ass up high," the instructor said. During the time that Steven was talking, he dragged and pushed Martha into the proper position. He then skillfully fastened leather shackles to her wrists and ankles and a huge belt around her waist. He used chains that were created specifically for the task, binding her at the waist, wrists, and ankles to the hooks in the floor so that she was unable to move from her position. And there he abandoned the woman.