Chapter 6

The last time I was fucked by my master as his slave occurred on the Wednesday that followed the lesson he gave me at my church.

As usual he wanted to fuck me as soon as I arrived at his house after school that day. And as usual I was more than ready for it. During class I had masturbated in the bathroom not once, not twice, but six times. Once an hour, as per my master's newest rule. I wasn't allowed to climax when I did this, but I did have to finger myself until I at least got wet. I'd been obeying this rule since Monday when he'd sent it to me in a text message and it had been an effective way of getting me really worked up him which, of course, was the point.

If any of my teachers or classmates realized how different my life had become since becoming a slave they didn't show it. No one ever noticed, for instance, that I was constantly squirming during class at the start of the hour when I was still worked up from my bathroom masturbation sessions. No one noticed that whenever I took out my golden little "Sin Bible" and made an entry afterward. I wasn't even trying to hide what was being done to me. The fact is that my activities were naturally well-hidden by my previous life. I'd always been a shy and socially inept sort of girl. I guess that's what everyone still saw when they looked at me. I didn't have to hide what I had become because it was all internal. On the outside, everyone still saw the "old" me.

That Wednesday, the last of my enslavement, I arrived at his house in my school uniform and blue autumn jacket feeling nervous and exhausted. I was nervous because he had warned me the day before that I was ready, now, to further my training. And I was exhausted because I had been up until 2am the night before trying to get caught up with homework. All the time I was spending with my master was making me fall behind on my school work and I had resolved the night before to get myself back on track. I'd spent most of the day tired and groggy as a result, but at least it had paid off. I ended up acing a History test and turning in an overdue report I had to do about Saint Thomas of Beckett.

Arriving at his house sure woke me up, though. The thought of having my training "furthered" was like a jolt of caffeine to my system. What did it mean? What was he going to do to me? As I walked into his garage and saw him waiting I realized it didn't matter. I was his slave, his property. He'd proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt the Sunday before. Memories of that humiliation still made my stomach churn and the thought of doing anything that would upset him never entered my head.

He ushered me down into the basement right away and told me to undress, which I did, and then he put a dog collar around my neck. He'd been making me wear it since Monday, saying that it symbolized I was his pet. After he put the loose-fitting collar around my slender neck he kept his hands there. He was grinding his erection into the small of my back as I trembled in what can only be described as nerve-racking delight. It was always that way with him, you see. He made me nervous, I was terrified of being punished, but there came with those two negative emotions something far more mysterious: a delight, a certain pleasure in the idea that I was his property.

Finally he had enough of that, and he made me get on all fours on the floor in front of the couch. I bit my lower lip in anticipation as I listened to him disrobe behind me. When he got on his knees my body stiffened as I felt him spit on my dry slit. Whenever he spat on me like this I always filled up with shame. What kind of girl allowed a man to spit on her twat? But I had no choice. A moment later he was pressing his large member inside me and, without even thinking, I pressed back the way I knew he liked. Despite the painful entry I responded the way I knew he wanted.

As usual it hurt at first. He hadn't bothered to let me get wet naturally, and only his saliva softened his rough entry. I cringed in pain as he pushed into me but soon my body began to react and my pussy moistened. I'd been wanting to cum all day, after all, and now I finally had a chance to do so. When he grabbed me from behind by the dog collar and pulled my head back I moaned with desire. It wasn't long before there was nothing but pleasure from the doggy-style sex, and I cooed and panted in time with his thrusts. I begged him to fuck me harder, faster. He didn't say a word as his cock pummeled my tender, barely 13-year-old pussy, though. Usually he liked to taunt and tease me, insult me and degrade me. Today all he wanted to do was get himself off.

I was in a trance, hypnotized by his domineering cock, and it wasn't long before my slender arms could no longer hold my body up. I collapsed forward and the dog collar around my neck dug sharply into my skin. I began to suffocate as my master pulled back on the collar. It took every ounce of willpower I had to push my body back up so that I could breathe again. And once the oxygen flow returned a surprising orgasm racked my small frame. My master sensed this and I heard his laughter as my pussy gripped his cock as he slammed it in and out of me. He erupted inside me before I finished climaxing and he let my tiny body crumple to the floor without a word.

I lay there choking in air and recovering from my orgasm for quite a while. While I did that he stood up and left the room. I was still gasping when I remembered that he would expect me to add this latest fuck to my Book of Sins. Using all my strength I managed to stand, find my backpack, and pull out the golden hard-cover book.

I flipped through the pages of the book, stumbling sometimes and almost dropping it. I decided to sit cross-legged while I did this, making sure to face the stairway so my master would see me behaving obediently, without being told, as soon as he returned. I was naked except for the dog collar and his semen was leaking out of my sore pussy. With a shaky hand I finally entered the day's date under the sin "Sex Outside of Marriage". Then I flipped to the page for "Submitting in a Carnal Manner" and added a date there, too. It made my heart sink to see how many entries I'd already made on those two pages. It made my heart sink even further to realize how many other sins I had left to make any entries for.

"Flip to, ahh, 'sodomy'," my master said.

I hadn't heard him return. He was standing at the bottom of the stairway with a beer in his hand. He'd pulled on a paid of boxer shorts but his fat, hairy body was otherwise naked. I nodded to him and tried to find the page for the sin he had just mentioned.

I knew what sodomy meant and for some reason I was having a hard time finding the correct page. Maybe my sub-concsious thought that if I couldn't find it I wouldn't have to do it. Because, as I sat there naked on the floor flipping through the gold book, I realized my master was going to do it to me. Why else would he have me find the page? After a few minutes I found it and looked up at him. He was standing in front of me with a grin on his fat face as he waited for me to write in his name and the day's date below the bible quotes that described what a "sinful perversion" anal sex was. After I did I stared at my shaky handwriting and, with dread in my heart, realized that he had left a lot of space for me to make entries for this particular sin.

I'd sort of expected this day would come. In the three weeks I'd been his slave my master had never talked openly about anal sex but he'd dropped hints that we would try it. He'd shown me several adult sex scenes where women were getting fucked like that, for example, and sometimes when I was on top of him during sex he would slide his fingers over my little anal-hole. And, of course, the sin of sodomy was in the book he'd given me. But there were lots of sins in that book and I was still naive enough to think he'd never expect me to do all of them.

After handing him the book he nodded with approval at the entry. I'd written "With Master" and then the date. He grinned again and said, "Kneel there, then bend over and spread your, ahh, ass cheeks for me. I'll be right back."

Without any thought of disobedience I assumed the position on the leather couch. When I reached behind myself to grab my ass the way he'd instructed I realized that the training he always talked about was moving forward again. I still didn't know what I was being trained for: he'd already broken my will, after all. It filled my heart with dread when the possibilities of what he ultimately intended for me floated through my mind. I would think of all those terrible sins in that book and wonder if he planned on having me commit them all. That thought made me shudder and my skin go cold as I breathed into the couch. I swallowed hard and took deep breaths as I waited for him to return, my fear and paranoia threatening to make me sick.

He returned to the couch a moment later and knelt down next to me. My face was pressed into the leather cushion but was turned toward him. He brushed my hair out of my eyes and grinned at my expressionless face. Then he showed me the object he'd just retrieved.

It was by far the smallest dildo he'd ever shown me, or at least the thinnest. The ones he usually used on me were at least as big as his cock. This one was much smaller than that, thankfully, even smaller than the one he'd made me wear into church. It was flesh colored, plastic, and probably about five inches long. The tip of it was a rounded point and it was definitely the least intimidating dildo he'd ever shown me. Of course, this one wouldn't be going into my pussy.

"We'll, ahh, use lube today," he said. He'd already taken out a bottle and was applying some sort sort of liquid to the dildo while I watched. "Eventually all we'll need is spit, but we're going to, ahh, break you in slowly.

"Now," he continued, "you need to relax. It's going to make things more, ahh, difficult if you tense up. You need to relax your sphincter even though your instinct will be to, ahh, clench up. Understand?"

I nodded my head, causing my blond hair to fall across my eyes again. My master pushed away my hair and smiled. I was taking deep breaths, trying my best to follow his instructions as he began to apply some of the cold lubricant he'd put on the dildo to my scrunched up anal bud. It was impossible to relax my muscles no matter how hard I tried. Just feeling the liquid drip onto my ass made me tense. When he placed the tip of the dildo against my anus I felt my whole body tighten, my sphincter included. It felt so violating, so dirty, and these feelings made me gasp and turned my deep breaths into frantic panting. My master didn't care. He was getting ready to slide the dildo into me whether I was relaxed or not. I clenched my eyes shut and waited for it.

"Ready?" he said.

I was just about to choke out a reply when I felt the object press against my anus.

The pain was intense. My sphincter resisted the invasive object as it pressed against my tight anal hole. Despite my master's warnings I couldn't relax: every fiber of my being felt this was wrong, that I had to resist it, that I could not allow the object inside me. I let go of my ass cheeks and squirmed forward, groaning as I did, tears coming to my eyes from the pain and embarrassment. My master used a free hand to push down between my shoulder blades, holding me in place. I cried some more as the pain intensified. But then, to my astonishment, the object finally popped inside me as though my anus had decided to just accept its fate.

I choked and groaned as my asshole seemed to suck the dildo inside. It was an incredible sensation. Just like that my anus seemed to welcome the object after fighting against it in such a desperate fashion. The pain was still there but there was also a bloated feeling of acceptance as the dildo pushed deeper inside me. I grunted in surprise as my body relaxed. My master started to chuckle. He said, "You, ahh, like that, don't you?"

There was no way I could respond. I wouldn't have known what to say. It wasn't that I was enjoying the violation of my asshole the way I had grown to enjoy being fucked in the pussy. This was an entirely different experience, a mixture of pain and fullness and depravity. With each thrust of the dildo, either in or out, pain and shock ran up the length of my tiny body. My eyes were wide with confusion and when the orgasm hit it came out of nowhere, an even stealthier ambush than the one he'd given me only moments before. Unlike that prior climax, though, I could not lose myself to this one. My mind was wild during it, my body squirming on the sofa, my mouth squeaking like a mouse as my master pushed the object in and out of my ass faster than ever before. I was groaning through tears, ashamed of the orgasm, my brain desperate to deny its existence. It was similar to the first orgasm he ever gave me when he raped me in the back of his video store. It was incredible. It was exhilarating. But it was awful and humiliating to realize how slutty and depraved I was that I could cum under such circumstances.

My master, who knew my body as well as I did, knew I had climaxed. He waited for me to recover a bit then slowly pulled the object out of me. I grunted as it popped out of my tight little asshole and felt empty and relieved when it was gone. Then he said, "Now you're, ahh, ready for the real thing, little one. Let's go to the, ahh, bed."

I began to sob. I'd already figured that the dildo was just a warm-up. The thought of his dick inside me, though, was too much. At that moment I was not his slave. I was just a 13-year-old child, terrified and humiliated beyond thinking. I didn't think of disobeying, of course, and I even began to sit up like he told me to. But I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't bury my fear and shame even as my body, running on auto-pilot, started to follow him to the bed. I kept crying as I walked and my master seemed to understand that I had broken down emotionally. He pushed me back down onto the sofa without a word and said, "You're, ahh, a mess. Calm down, slut. No use crying. An asshole ain't no different than a, ahh, pussy, not for a slut like you. Understand?"

I couldn't stop the tears but I nodded through them. He stared at me with anger in his eyes while we both waited for me to recover. After a couple of minutes I managed to get a hold of myself. He smiled after I stopped crying and the room was silent. He said, "Okay, let's, ahh, go to the bed. You can cry some more, ahh, after."

But there wouldn't be anymore tears that day, at least not for him. While he gave me a hand and I started to stand up on wobbly legs there suddenly came a loud crashing sound from upstairs.

My master snapped his head up and so did I. Everything was silent for a moment and then I heard the distinct sound of footsteps. They were loud, heavy footsteps, and were followed by yet another crashing sound and more commotion.

"Wh-what's that?" I asked with a choked whisper.

My master didn't respond at first. He slowly let go of my hand and took a step away from the couch. Suddenly he looked extremely worried, and that worried me.

"M-master?" I asked in a whisper.

"Shh!" he whispered. "It's ... ahh, probably just my son."

But he made no move to go and investigate. He just stood there with that worried expression on his face as he looked upward and tried to listen. After a moment or two I heard muffled voices, at least two, yelling something from the main floor of the house.

"Shit!" my master said. He didn't look worried anymore. He looked scared. For the first time since I'd known him he looked frightened and that scared the shit out of me.

My heart pounded in my chest as he took another uncertain step toward the staircase. Then there was another crashing sound, followed by more yelling and heavy footsteps. From the creaking of the floorboards it sounded as though at least one person was moving toward the garage, which meant they were heading towards the entrance to the basement.

"Did I, ahh, lock the door?" my master hissed to himself. Then in a louder voice he gave me an accusatory look and said, "Did I, ahh, lock the fucking door?"

He sounded panicked and my sore eyes began to well up with tears again. "I-I d-don't remember!" I said.

"Shit, ahh, shit!" he whispered. Then he pointed a trembling finger at me. "Stay there!"

He marched toward the stairway. He'd already dropped the dildo he'd been fucking my ass with and now he was getting his keys out of his pocket. He was shaking all over. I was on my knees, on top of the couch, watching with confusion. I sort of held myself and rocked back and forth as tears trickled down my face once again. I had no idea what was going on but I got the distinct impression that my master did. And his reaction to it was scaring me more than anything else.

He disappeared up the stairway and I could tell he was trying to walk quietly. From upstairs I could hear the muffled yells, the heavy footfalls, and the occasional crashing noise. It sounded like someone was tearing through his house, breaking things. Suddenly a possibility occurred to me. What if it was the police? My master was always showing me those videos of little girls getting fucked, and I knew full well that they were illegal. I'd even done an internet news search on the topic and had discovered that people were arrested every single day for just possessing what was called "child pornography". What if he'd been caught somehow? What if this was a raid? If it was then they would find me, and I'd have to try and explain what I was doing there. Part of me was tempted to start getting dressed, but memories of my punishment for putting on a pair of panties when I'd known my dad was about to spank me prevented me from doing so. My master hadn't told me to get dressed. He'd told me to stay where I was. Even if cops were going to storm into the room I was just too afraid of my master to do something he might consider defiant.

It sounded as though he had nearly reached the top of the stairs when suddenly I heard the door to the basement swing open. He hadn't locked it after all.

"Motherfucker!" cried a voice, drawing out every syllabyl of the profane word. And then the same man yelled: "LEE! FUCKER'S OVER HERE!"

"Wait, ahh, wait a second," I heard my master say. He sounded frantic. "Let's talk upstairs, ahh, we can talk things--"

And then I heard a loud crunching sound, a muffled grunt of pain from my master, and a tumbling noise as he fell down the stairs.

When his fat, crumpled body finally appeared again it was rolling over itself. I gasped and put both of my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. Tears streamed down my face at the sight of my powerful master in such a position. He was groaning in pain and clutching his right arm at the base the stairs. At least he was moving. At first I had thought he was dead.

I couldn't see up the stairs from my position but I knew whoever had just caused my master to fall was now walking down the steps. I continued breathing through my nose as I shrieked into my hands. I was really crying and was so scared I felt like I might pee myself, but I couldn't move. I just remained frozen as though whoever had just hurt my master would not discover me so long as I stayed still.