Chapter 47

“Come, slave.”

Jasmine dropped forward onto her hands and knees without hesitation, crawling gracefully behind him across the cool concrete floor of the playroom. The red welts on her bottom burned with every movement, a constant, stinging reminder of his crop. She followed him to the center of the room, where a thick, black cushion waited.

“Kneel here, slave. Rest for a moment.”

She settled onto the cushion, knees spread, back straight, hands resting palms-up on her thighs, eyes lowered. Martin stood behind her and began to braid her long, dark hair with slow, gentle fingers. The contrast was exquisite—moments earlier he had fucked her throat with cruel depth while punishing her ass mercilessly, and now he braided her hair with the tenderness of a lover. The rhythmic pull on her scalp was soothing, almost hypnotic. Jasmine felt herself sinking deeper into subspace, the crushing guilt finally quieting under his calm, dominant care.

When the braid was complete, he secured it neatly and bent down, sliding his strong arms beneath her. He lifted her effortlessly, cradling her against his chest for a brief, tender moment. Jasmine melted into him, her face pressed to his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent.

Martin carried her to the thick padded bench and laid her face-down across it with careful precision. Her full breasts dangled freely beneath her, nipples brushing the cool leather with every shaky breath. He took both her wrists and bound them firmly together at the small of her back with soft but unyielding leather cuffs, pulling her arms back and securing them tightly. Then he moved to her ankles.

Martin loved to bind her so that he didn’t have to spread her ass cheeks. He had always said her anus must be seen—open, displayed, and completely accessible—without him having to part her chubby cheeks with his hands. It was a point of elegant dominance for him, a visual declaration of total ownership. He wanted her body arranged so that her most private hole was naturally exposed, presented like an offering for his gaze and use.

This time, he spread her intentionally more. He pulled each leg wide apart, attaching sturdy cuffs to her ankles and fastening them to heavy floor posts on either side of the bench. The position stretched her effectively—legs spread a full one hundred and forty degrees, far beyond a normal split, ass raised high and vulnerable, her hot, reddened bottom and dripping pussy completely exposed. Her anus, tight and pink, was perfectly visible without any need for him to touch or spread her cheeks. Her breasts hung heavily beneath her, swaying slightly with every shaky breath. Arms bound, legs spread impossibly wide, body bent and presented perfectly for him.

Jasmine moaned in pain as her legs were forced wider, the burn in her inner thighs sharp and intense, the extreme stretch making her muscles tremble. “Mm ... Master...? I ... I think it’s too far...”

Quickly, he was beside her, crouching so his face was level with hers. “Shhh ... my little gymnastic girl,” he soothed, voice low and reassuring, one hand stroking her cheek tenderly. “Don’t worry. I’m here. You are fine. Just bear with me a little. Your body will get used to it. You’ve trained so beautifully for this.”

He ran his hands over her body—slow, arousing strokes along her back, over the curve of her raised ass, and down the stretched length of her inner thighs—distracting her from the discomfort with deliberate pleasure. His fingers teased the sensitive skin, brushing close to her dripping pussy without quite touching, making her whimper and shift in her bonds.

“You should be open for your Master,” he murmured, voice dark with possession. “No hiding. No part of you closed to me. This is how I want you—spread wide, completely accessible, completely mine. Your little anus on full display for me, without me having to spread those pretty cheeks. Exactly as it should be.”

Jasmine trembled under his touch, the pain in her overstretched muscles blending with the growing heat of arousal as his hands continued their sensual exploration. Martin remained beside her for a moment longer, whispering praise and comfort until her breathing steadied, then rose to admire his work. The position was exquisite—her body stretched to its new limit, every inch presented for his pleasure, her tight pink hole perfectly visible and waiting. He ran his palm possessively over her reddened bottom, then lower, teasing her slick folds with light touches that made her moan again—this time with desperate need rather than pain.

The session had only just begun. Martin’s eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction as he picked up the riding crop once more, ready to continue the elegant, thorough claiming of his brilliant, beautifully trained slave.

Martin stepped back to admire his work, the riding crop tapping lightly against his thigh once more. Jasmine trembled in her bonds, the position deeply humiliating and intensely arousing. She could feel the cool air on her wet folds and the burning welts across her ass. The leash still attached to her collar hung down her back, a constant symbol of ownership.

He walked slowly around the bench, trailing the tip of the crop along her spine, over the curve of her raised ass, and down the inside of one spread thigh. “Look at you,” he said, voice low and horny, thick with satisfaction. “So beautifully displayed for your Master. Completely helpless. Completely mine.”

Jasmine whimpered softly, pressing her forehead against the padded bench. The position left her dripping with need, her punished bottom throbbing, her bound arms making her feel even more vulnerable. Martin continued his slow inspection, occasionally delivering light, teasing snaps of the crop to the sensitive undersides of her breasts and the backs of her spread thighs. Each small sting drew a gasp from her, but she remained perfectly still, knowing any movement would be corrected swiftly.

He finally positioned himself behind her, running the thick head of his cock along her slick folds, teasing her entrance without entering. “Tell me again, slave,” he commanded, voice calm yet dominant. “Why is this not your fault?”

Jasmine’s voice came out breathy and submissive, trembling with arousal and the lingering sting of her welts. “Because Mia made her own choice, Master. She decided to run. That was her responsibility, not mine. I did everything I could. I found her. I helped bring her back safely. I am very good at what I do. I should not punish myself for it. That is your job, Master.”

Martin walked to a nearby cabinet and returned wearing thin black gloves. In one hand he held a small jar of a special cream —clear, slightly warm, and devastatingly effective. He dipped two gloved fingers into the jar and began to rub it slowly, methodically, everywhere on her skin. He started with her shoulders and back, massaging the cream in with firm, sensual strokes. Then he moved lower, coating her reddened ass cheeks thoroughly, making sure the welts received extra attention. The cream sank in quickly, and within moments Jasmine began to pant, her breathing growing ragged as the heightened sensitivity took hold—every nerve ending suddenly alive and screaming, ten times more responsive than normal.

He focused especially on her most intimate areas. His gloved fingers circled her breasts, rubbing the cream into the soft, heavy flesh and over her sensitive nipples until they hardened into aching peaks. Jasmine whimpered, the sensation already driving her toward madness. He moved between her spread legs, rubbing the cream liberally over her swollen pussy lips, then pushing two fingers inside her to coat her inner walls thoroughly. Finally, he pressed more cream against her tight anus, working it inside with slow, deliberate fingers until she was gasping and trembling uncontrollably.

The effects hit her like a wave. Within minutes, Jasmine was panting heavily, her body on fire with overwhelming sensitivity. Every brush of air, every slight shift against the bench felt electric. Her pussy throbbed, her ass burned with heightened awareness, her breasts ached with desperate need. The cream had turned her entire body into one giant, quivering erogenous zone.

Martin removed the gloves and grabbed her hips hard, fingers digging into her flesh. He pressed the thick head of his cock against her tight anal opening. Jasmine instantly tried to relax, breathing deeply through the impending invasion. She knew from experience that if she tensed, his huge cock in her back hole would be pure hell.

“That’s my good girl,” Martin praised, voice low and dominant. “Relax for me.”

He began to push inside slowly, the thick head stretching her tight ring with relentless pressure. Jasmine whimpered, forcing herself to stay loose as inch after thick inch sank into her ass. The heightened sensitivity from the cream made every millimeter feel enormous—burning, stretching, filling her completely. Martin talked the entire time, his voice calm and controlled even as he claimed her most private hole.

Anal sex had always been very hard for her—far more challenging than anything else he demanded. Even after three years of trianing, she still struggled with it, still tried to escape it whenever she could. It felt far more intimate, far more dominating than when he took her pussy. It felt like he was claiming the very essence of her, reaching deeper than flesh, owning a part of her that no one else had ever touched.

Martin knew this. He had spent long, patient hours over the years making her ready—gradual stretching, plugs of increasing size, careful preparation, and endless praise. Yet he reserved anal for the moments when he truly wanted to drive a point home, when he needed to remind her, body and soul, that every part of her belonged to him without exception.

“Please, Master ... not there,” Jasmine begged, voice trembling as the thick head began to breach her. “It hurts ... please, not tonight...”

“Shhh ... my good little slave girl,” Martin comforted her immediately, voice low and steady, one hand stroking slowly up and down her back while the other gently kneaded the reddened curve of her bottom. “Its not up to you to decide where your master uses your beautiful body. It’s okay. Breathe for me. I know it hurts, but you need this. It’s for your own good, slave. Relax ... let me in.”

He began to push inside slowly, the thick head stretching her tight ring with relentless but careful pressure. Jasmine whimpered, the burn sharp and intense despite his preparation. “It hurts, Master ... it’s too much...” she gasped, body tensing involuntarily.

Martin slowed down instantly, holding still with just the head inside her. He stroked her back soothingly, kissing the nape of her neck with tender lips. “Shhh ... it’s okay, my love. I’ve got you. Breathe through it. You can take me. You always do. This is part of your training—to become completely mine. Every inch of you. Even here, Jasmine. Let the pain remind you who you belong to.”

He waited patiently until she relaxed again, then continued pushing, inch after thick inch sinking into her ass. The heightened sensitivity from the cream made every millimeter feel enormous—burning, stretching, filling her completely in a way that made her feel claimed to her very core. Jasmine whimpered and moaned, the mix of pain and overwhelming fullness bringing fresh tears to her eyes. “Master ... it hurts so much ... please...”

“Shhh ... I know, beautiful. It’s okay. You’re doing so well,” Martin soothed, his voice calm and reassuring even as he claimed her most private hole. He stroked her back and bottom with gentle hands, giving her time to adjust. “You will take me all the way in. To remind you that there is no part of you that escapes me. No part that isn’t mine. Relax slave. You think you can keep your thoughts hidden from me. But you cant. Your master knows best.”

He kept talking the entire time, his voice steady and hypnotic, reinforcing the psychological conditioning even as his cock claimed her so intimately. “You are my very smart slave. You are my beautiful wife. I don’t allow you to be miserable for something which isn’t yours to carry. Every action has consequences. The consequences of Mia running are for her, not yours. You did everything possible. You found her. You helped save her. You are exceptional at what you do.”

He continued pushing until he was buried to the hilt inside her ass. Jasmine cried out softly, the stretch intense but bearable thanks to his years of patient preparation and the comforting strokes of his hands. Martin held still for a long moment, letting her adjust, his hands never stopping their gentle, soothing caresses along her back and over the burning welts on her bottom.

“Relax, my love,” he whispered, kissing the back of her neck. “ Let me claim you thoroughly here. This is how I remind you that you are mine—completely. No part of you is off limits. Thats it my beautiful hacker girl.”

He began to move—slow, deep strokes that rocked her bound body against the bench. His fingers found her clit again, rubbing in firm, arousing circles while he fucked her ass with controlled dominance.

For long minutes he fucked her like that—deep, relentless, yet with the careful patience he always showed when taking her there. He talked the entire time, his voice steady and hypnotic, reinforcing the new truths he was embedding in her mind. “You are mine to protect, mine to punish, and mine to cherish. Do you understand, slave?”

“Yes, Master ... yes, Sir...” Jasmine sobbed, lost in the overwhelming mix of pain, pleasure, and profound submission.

Martin continued thrusting deep into her ass, fingers never leaving her clit, driving her higher and higher until she shattered around him with a raw, broken cry. Only then did he allow himself release, burying himself to the hilt and flooding her with hot seed, marking her completely.

Martin kept fucking her through it, deep and steady, fingers never leaving her clit. “Now tell me, my slave,” he commanded, voice rough with arousal but still in perfect control. “Why is this not your fault? Say it clearly while I’m buried in your ass.”

Jasmine’s voice came out broken, hoarse, and utterly submissive, trembling with the intensity of the sensations flooding her body. “Because ... because Mia made her own choice, Master. She decided to run. That was her responsibility, not mine. I did everything I could. I found her. I helped bring her back safely. I am very, very good at what I do. The brief failure was only an anomaly, not a reflection of my worth or my service to you. I should not punish myself for it. That ... that is your job, Master. I belong to you. My mind, my body, my guilt—everything belongs to you.”

Martin groaned deeply, thrusting harder into her ass for a few final, possessive strokes before burying himself to the hilt and coming with a low, satisfied growl, flooding her with hot seed. He stayed inside her for long moments afterward, stroking her back and whispering praise while she trembled and floated in deep subspace.