Depraved by Trent Evans

Chapter 15

He liked to watch his captives, right before they woke, and he found he particularly enjoyed observing Yulia.

The way her chest rose and fell, so languid, the movement of her big breasts, the liquid, lithe lines and curves of her body curled up on its side, the blanket bunched up under her chin, while somehow she’d kicked it off the entirety of the rest of her form.

Much to his delight.

She shifted, murmuring something in her sleep, her lips pursed, then relaxing once more, the hint of her white teeth.

He slipped further into the room, slowly raising the lights as he did. It was time to get her up.

Time to get to know her—and most importantly, her body—much better.

And show her that whatever she thought was going to happen… wasn’t.

Stripping captives’ notions of control was an important element of molding them, of encouraging docility and cooperation.

He couldn’t wait.

Wrapping a hand around one of her cell’s bars, he whispered. “Time to wake up, Yulia.”

She stirred slightly, her arm flopping down, fingertips just touching the floor, then stilled once more.

Sorely tempted to enter her cell and touch her awake—it wasn’t quite time for that yet—instead, he opened the door, letting the clang of metal on metal do the heavy lifting of waking her from her slumber.

“Wh… whazzz…?”

The lights came on fully, and she groaned, laying an arm over her eyes.

“Get up, Yulia.” He lightly kicked the leg of her cot. “We’ve… got a lot to talk about.”

For a moment, he thought she’d fallen asleep again.

“You’ll have to be disciplined for that. You don’t have permiss—” As he bent over her, he saw her eyes, open, and focused.

“H-hello.”

Grinning, he stroked her hair. “Hello, Yulia.”

She cried out as he hauled her unceremoniously off the cot by her locks. She clawed at his hand, her feet scrambling against the floor until she rose to stand.

“That was to teach you when I enter your cell, and tell you to wake, you wake. Understand me?”

“Yes… yes,” she said, nostrils flaring. “I understand.”

Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed heavily. She was either worked up from the pain at her scalp, or already enraged.

Though he really didn’t care which it was, he actually found her pique quite interesting, even though he knew in the past, he’d have punished such an open display of defiance and displeasure.

Perhaps, he’d give her a little leeway. Just for fun.

“Hands behind your back.”

Surprisingly, she complied, though not without a little blushing.

Very appealing indeed.

“Now, that’s better,” he said, affixing the metal cuffs about her wrists. He took hold of her upper arm, leading her from the cell.

Pausing for a moment, deciding what to do first, he drew her over to the implement wall, her eyes wide and unblinking as she took it all in.

He’d amassed a dizzying amount of tools, implements and devices, all in the service of bringing female captives to heel.

He plucked the leather arm binder from its hook, and she backed away.

“No… you don’t need…”

He took her by the arm again. “You don’t get to tell me what I need to do. Not ever. Now, turn around.”

It was a meaningless command, for he spun her around himself, his penis hard and insistent at the simple, selfish male pleasure of manhandling her vulnerable, naked—and very beautiful—body.

He really thought she might be the most pleasing female specimen he’d ever had the pleasure of disciplining and training.

And her little cunt was easily the tightest—and wettest—he’d ever fucked.

The anticipation filling him at getting back inside her again was almost too much to resist.

But now wasn’t the time to be a rutting animal. There was a place for that, of course, and he would savor it when it was—but that time was not yet at hand.

Cinching up the arm binder left her arms immobilized, in a straight line, down her back, her wrists pressed almost together.

The line of her body was radically modified by such bondage, and he took a step back to admire it, the way her shoulders were forced back, causing the round, heavy breasts to become even more prominent, ripe, vulnerable, on offer for male lusts to plunder.

To squeeze, and slap, and suck, and fuck.

Oh yes, all of those, girl. All of those very soon.

“Right this way,” he said, mockingly, waving toward the tall rack with a flourish. “You’ve a date with the chains, I think.”

The chains in question descended from all four crossbars of the large upright rack. In essence, it was a set of four uprights in a square pattern, their crossbars at the top linked in both directions, forming a square about a meter over her head.

Backing her under the rack, he hooked a finger in the thick D ring at the base of the arm binder, just above her wrists. Affixing one of the chains to it—a chain that was attached to a pulley, he hauled up on her arms, until she was forced to bend nearly double at the waist.

She panted, almost panicked as he finally had her as high as he wanted.

“Please… it’s… what are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything.” He took a chair about ten feet away from her. It was far enough that to meet his gaze she had to crane her head up as far as she could, given her awkward, humiliating position. “But we’re going to have a little chat, you and I.”

“W-what… why?”

“Shall I gag you?”

“What?” She swallowed. “You don’t… you don’t need to do that.”

“Then I want you to do something. I want you to be quiet unless you’re asked a direct question.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.” She shivered, dropping her head a little.

The blonde locks were quite lovely as they swayed languidly below her.

“What is your mother’s name?”

“What?”

“You say that a lot.”

“I—I’m sorry… I just… didn’t expect that, I guess.” She drew a breath, still looking down at the floor. “Marie.”

“Pretty name. I like Yulia better though, I think.”

“What made you ask that?”

He stood up, with a sigh, picking up the heavy wooden paddle he’d left hanging from one of the hooks placed at several heights along each upright.

“Wait, what are…?”

The room rang with the crack of the wood across her bottom, and she yelped, her buttocks jiggling pleasingly with the blow. She trembled as he lined up the wood along the lower curves of her bottom, holding it there for a second.

Then he smacked her again, much harder, and she yelled in pain.

“Stop! I… what did I do?”

“You spoke without being asked a question, girl. When you do, from now on, you’ll be punished. Clear?” He instructed her as if she were a child, something that he knew, from experience could be especially humiliating to a spirited, opinionated young woman. Though he was tempted to extinguish that—perhaps he had in the past—he wondered if instead he might just attenuate it, soften it a bit, rather than snuff it out completely.

He’d have to think more on that. It was odd, the second-guessing he seemed to be doing with her, and he wasn’t sure what exactly was driving it.

“I…I’m sorry.” She tried to meet his gaze. “I understand.”

He grinned at her, taking his seat again, adjusting his hard cock at the memory of the way her buttocks had bounced under the cruel kiss of the paddle.

“Do you touch yourself often? At all?”

She seemed to recoil from the question, which he quite liked, but waited for her to regain her composure, wondering if she’d comply. “I… I guess.”

“You either do, or you don’t. I doubt you’re really confused about it.”

“Yes… then yes.”

Very good.

“Those days are over for you.”

“W-what do you mean?”

He clucked his tongue, rising once more.

“Oh God, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—” She shrieked, the wood paddle smacking her along the tops of her thighs. Her flesh began to redden there immediately, the broad band of pain across her buttocks he’d already paddled looking quite flushed already, a spot of red on her right bottom cheek.

He laid another across her thighs, and she shrieked again, biting off a sob of pain. “I’m sorry! Please… no more. I’m sorry!”

“How much that happens is up to you,” he said, hanging the paddle up once more and returning to his seat. “I can paddle your gorgeous little bottom as much as you need, Yulia, until you get it through your head.”

“Y-yes… sir.”

“I like that. I think I’ll have you call me that from now on. Sir. Can you say that for me?”

“Sir.” It was like she was chewing on glass. Her displeasure only turned him on more.

Adorable fire with this one.

Truth be told, he rarely let captives speak to him at all. More often when they verbalized anything, it was screaming, weeping, and pleading.

What’s going on here?

Perhaps nothing really was amiss. It just didn’t seem that such harshness was merited. Not with her. She really did seem like she wanted to comply, to be good.

It just took a little pain to motivate her. Something he was all too happy to provide for the girl.

Sitting down again, he grunted softly, trying to find a comfortable position, his cock twisted now in his shorts. Paddling her was incredibly arousing, the movement of her buttocks as the paddle impacted her flesh, the flushing of her skin, the marks, the high notes of her cries.

Most interesting though had been the tell-tale scent he swore he picked up on after he’d paddled her thighs. He’d have to investigate that further.

Absolutely maddening what it did to him.

His resistance was rapidly crumbling.

But now, he’d waited as long as he could. For he needed relief soon.

“I have one more question for you, then we can get to your lesson.”

She lifted her head up, hope in her eyes as she stared at him through the fringe of her lashes.

“Why does your cunt get wet when you’re punished?”