MR. COX GAVE ELLA A few days to recover from the severe caning he had administered. During that time, he did nothing to hurt her ass or legs; in fact, he barely even touched her there. But he would often ask her to turn around and stick out her butt, so he could admire her welts and bruises.
And he certainly wasn’t leaving the rest of her alone. He would call for her whenever he could, and expected her to come whenever he called—in more ways that one.
With time, Ella learned that Mr. Cox’s view of play involved a lot of rope, a lot of fucking, and often, hefty doses of humiliation. Now that Ella’s spirit had been conquered, Mr. Cox enjoyed taking full advantage of the power he had over her.
Sometimes he would attach a leash to her collar and order her on all fours, so he could parade her around the room like a prized pet. Other times he would order her inside a cage, and have her pleasure herself until she was near coming; then he would order her out and fuck her from behind, pushing her face down on the floor, making her knees scrape and burn.
When he was feeling particularly devious, he would put nipple clamps on her nipples, watch the way her nipples paled and distended under the bite of the little teeth, and smile as Ella’s face contorted with pain. Then he would attach the leash to the nipple clamps instead of her collar, and pull her around the room by her breasts. When that was done, he would sit in a chair and put his feet on her back, treating her as if she were nothing more than his footstool.
Ella didn’t know why, but she found being his play toy incredibly satisfying, and wildly erotic. When he was ordering her around, her mind didn’t have to think; it could go away on a little vacation for a while, and when it came back, she felt renewed.
Her debasement turned her on.
She would often beg Mr. Cox to fuck her.
Sometimes he agreed; sometimes he made her wait. Her orgasms were his now, he said, and it was his sole discretion if and when she had one. When Ella was deep in her degradation, bowing before his feet, flushing with shame and desire, he would order her to refer to herself as his clit-toy, and Ella would beg him to fuck his clit-toy hard, to make his clit-toy come…and Mr. Cox would grin with pride.
But when he treated her gently, with great tenderness and care, Ella would relish those times, too. They helped her see that while Mr. Cox enjoyed hurting her, disgracing her, and basically treating her like the personal play toy she was, he cared about her, too.
Ella was walking around in a constant state of simmering arousal now. Mr. Cox only had to look at her with his piercing stare, give her that twisted grin of his, and Ella’s cunt would flood with wetness.
But once she was sent back to her room to spend some time alone, doubts would creep in. Her thoughts would grow muddled with confusion and shame.
She didn’t understand why she enjoyed being degraded the way she did; she didn’t understand why she found giving up power and control so cathartic. And when she grazed her hands against her ass and thighs, pressing into the bruises here and there to feel the last remnants of the caning, she couldn’t understand why the prickling pain and the haunting flashbacks made her smile instead of cringe.
Being under the care of Mr. Cox was a whirlwind ride of agony and ecstasy. Being left alone was torture.
Thankfully, she wasn’t left alone very often. Mr. Cox instructed Ella to spend a good portion of her free time sitting in open areas around the hotel, like the bar and the lounge, so she could watch the way other guests interacted. Ella learned a lot about different kinks and fetishes that way, just by observing people from afar.
But Ella began to feel as if she was on information overload. Her mind had been opened up to a whole new world of possibilities and pleasures, and she was having a hard time processing it all. Worse, she was still harboring a deep suspicion that her desires were perverted and wrong. She began to fear what her life would be like once she left the hotel and she was stuck back in the real world, alone.
Her visit to Mr. Cox that night was cut short when he received word his immediate help was needed with another guest. Ella was quickly sent back to her room. She knew it was something bad when he didn’t even escort her down, but trusted her to go on her own.
Ella hoped that whatever the emergency was, Mr. Cox could help handle it…but she still felt bereft by the sudden dismissal. She knew it wasn’t rational, or even fair—clearly, he had not sent her away out of choice—but she had been looking forward to her time with him. She needed to feel his anchoring presence and calm control.
She was depending on it.
That night, she had a horrible time falling asleep. Her chest felt filled with sadness, and anxiety made her restless, like she couldn’t stand being in her own skin. She hated this feeling, like she was drifting in a cloud of doubt and despair. But most of all, she hated feeling so weak.
Finally, after berating herself long enough, she managed to fall into a light sleep. But she awoke in the middle of the night, crying and trembling.
She tried washing her face with cold water. It didn’t help; she still felt shaky and miserable, like she was going mad, alone in her dark room…like the room was closing in on her, stifling her very breath.
There was no way she could go back to sleep now. She needed to get out of there. Without even bothering to put on a pair of shoes, she slipped outside, and into the corridor.
There was no one in the hallway. It was far from quiet—Ella could hear moaning, screaming, and maniacal laughter from behind many of the doors. But just being outside her own small, empty room helped her to breathe again. Her nerves were still shaking, though. She needed to get upstairs, among people, and out of this dark narrow hallway.
Ella strode to the elevator and pressed the button, fidgeting on her feet as she waited for the doors to open. She didn’t know exactly where she was going; all she knew was that she had to go somewhere where she could escape all the chaos going on inside her head.
“Ella, what the fuck are you doing out here?”
Mr. Cox’s voice came from her left, a few steps down the hall. He sounded angry at first, but that changed when he took in Ella’s tear-stained face and shivering lip. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know…nothing happened.”
“Obviously something happened.”
Her face crumbled. “Nothing happened! I’m just…I’m just….” She burst into tears, and covered her face with her hands.
“Oh, Christ,” Mr. Cox said, sighing deeply. He came forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders. “C’mon, Ella. I’ll take you back to your room.”
He led her back down the corridor as Ella cried in her hands, unable to see where she was going. As soon as they got to her room, Mr. Cox opened the door and led her inside. To Ella’s surprise, he shut the door behind them both, and helped her back into bed.
To Ella’s further surprise, he climbed in the bed beside her, and cradled her in his arms as she continued to weep.
“I don’t know why I’m like this,” Ella said between sobs. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Mr. Cox said gently, holding her tighter. “Your body is going through subdrop. This is normal. It will pass.”
Ella peaked at him between her fingers. “Subdrop?”
He smoothed some hair away from her face. “It’s like a crash after a high. When we play together, and you’re floating through subspace, enjoying that rush you get from the pain and surrender, all the endorphins are flooding your body, and you feel that high. Your energy feeds off of my energy, but it fuels it, too. We both end up pushing each other higher.”
“You mean, when you’re Topping me, you get high, too?”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “Of course. It’s one of the reasons why I do what I do. But I’ve been doing this for a long time, Ella. You’re a newbie, you’re still processing everything. What you’re feeling is the drop some subs go through, especially after a difficult scene or a new type of play. Everything we’ve put you through is new to you. I’m actually surprised you didn’t go through subdrop before now. I guess it’s because of that iron will of yours.”
Ella cried harder. “I don’t have any iron will,” she said between hiccups. “I’m pathetic, and I’m weak, and I’m a horrible person.”
Mr. Cox’s brows rose in surprise. “Why do you think so?”
“Because I like to be treated like—like some kind of animal. You said it yourself, I like being your prey. I want you to hunt me down and catch me, do all these perverse, disgusting things to me—”
“Why do you call them disgusting?”
“Because they are!”
“No, Ella,” he said softly. “That may be what you’ve been brought up to believe, but it’s not true. You’re happy when I’m doing all these perverse, disgusting things to you, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but that’s wrong, too!” She cried louder.
“Oh, Ella.” He held back his chuckle. “You’re still judging your submission like it’s some sign of weakness. Being submissive doesn’t make you weak—far from it. Only a strong woman, a woman who knows her own mind, who has a strong enough will like yours, can give up control the way you do. You don’t submit because you’re weak. You submit because you know it gives you power.”
Ella wiped her face a little. Mr. Cox could tell she was listening very hard.
“Let me tell you what I see when I look at you,” he continued. “I see a woman who was working her ass off to get what she wants in life. I see a woman who was making it on her own, without any favors or payoffs from anyone else, despite what others might’ve thought. I see a woman who couldn’t stand her reputation being dragged through the mud, and who decided she’d rather quit and make it on her own than have people think she cheated her way to the top. And I see a woman who never gave up on what she wanted, who was willing to risk everything, just to get what she was looking for, even when she didn’t know exactly what that was.” He paused to smile. “So if you need to judge yourself based on how others see you, try doing it based on how I see you. Cause I see a beautiful woman before me, inside and out.”
Ella could only stare at him. No one had ever complimented like Mr. Cox just had. His poignant words touched her soul, and melted away all her misery.
“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome, Ella,” he whispered back.
She closed her eyes and snuggled into his warm body, feeling comforted in ways that finally brought her peace.
“Christ, I’m tired.” Mr. Cox shifted her into the crook of his arm and closed his eyes. “Go to sleep, Ella. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
“But Sir, are you sure it’s okay for you to be in my room? I don’t want to get you into trouble—”
“Ella?”
“Yes?”
“Please shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”
Ella’s mouth pressed shut. She wanted to think up a good retort, but before she could say anything, she heard the unmistakable sounds of Mr. Cox snoring. She smiled.
The notorious sadist was still human after all. Imagine that.
“Oh, man.”
Ella woke up, turned over, and opened her eyes to see Mr. Cox sitting at the edge of her bed, rubbing his face.
“Hey,” she said.
He twisted around to look at her over his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she said. “Much better than last night.”
“Good.”
Mr. Cox didn’t look better. His eyes were red, his hair was a mess, his clothes—the same ones he had worn the day before—were wrinkled, and his face was all puffy on his left side.
Ella had to smile at the picture he presented. I guess no one looks their best in the morning, not even the great Masters of the Hotel Bentmoore, she thought.
Without turning around he asked, “Will you get squicked if I use your toothbrush?”
“Squicked?”
“Grossed out.”
“Oh. No, go ahead.”
“Thanks.”
He got up, and a second later Ella heard the unmistakable sounds of him taking a piss in her bathroom. Then he was using her toothbrush, and Ella smiled again.
When he came back out, he looked marginally better. “I better go find out what happened last night after I left,” he said. “Christ, what a mess.” He shook his head, looking vaguely away. “One of our regulars came in last night, a long-time slave, freaking out, with burns all over her body.”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. Apparently her Master had negotiated a scene for her to be used by another Dom, some big hotshot who was in town visiting. The two men flogged her and beat her senseless—which was fine, that part had been negotiated—but then the other Dom brought out some candles and lighters, stuff they hadn’t negotiated beforehand, and he started using them on her when she was already high in subspace.”
The glare of his eyes and the tick in his jaw told Ella Mr. Cox wasn’t just angry, he was furious.
“He wasn’t supposed to do that?” She asked in a small voice.
“Fuck no, he wasn’t supposed to do that,” he growled. “And it was her Master’s fault. He should have stopped the other guy immediately. His first concern, his only concern, should have been the safety of his slave, not impressing some other celebrity Sadist.” His eyes continued to smolder. “You know what’s sad? This couple has been together for seven years. Seven years. And now, this Master might’ve just flushed the relationship of his life down the toilet, because he decided impressing another Dom was more important than protecting his slave.”
“But, Mr. Cox…if the burns were so bad, why didn’t she put a stop to the scene? Didn’t she have a safeword?”
“Yeah, she had a safeword.”
“But then….” Ella’s brows creased. “Why didn’t she use it?”
Mr. Cox exhaled slowly. “Ella, you don’t get why I don’t trust safewords, do you?” He sat on the edge of her bed again. “For many subs, safewords are a lifesaver. They can put a quick stop to any scene, for whatever reason. A sub who holds that safeword secure in the back of her head can usually go farther in a scene than she could without it, because she thinks of it like her safety net.” He paused. “But for some subs, for some women—” his voice lowered “—like you, safewords become a hazard.”
“What?”
“Think about it. The day I caned you, when you were high in subspace. Were you able to think clearly at all? Would you have been able to put two thoughts together to form a word? Even your safeword?” He paused as Ella’s eyes grew wide and she shook her head no. “You were flying so high, you wouldn’t have safeworded no matter what I’d done to you. I could have pulled out a dozen needles and used your clit as a pincushion, and you wouldn’t have said a peep in protest.”
Ella recoiled in horror. “That’s….”
“That’s the truth. It’s not what I did, because I knew it’s not what you wanted. But a Top who uses a woman’s safeword as a crutch, to feel free to do whatever the fuck he wants to her as long as she doesn’t safeword, that’s a dangerous Top. I’ve seen women who’ve ended up burned, scarred, marked in ways they never wanted and never would have consented to, because their Top decided non-use of the safeword implied consent.” His jaw ticked again.
Ella’s face paled, and she looked away in shock.
All this time, she had thought Mr. Cox didn’t allow her the use of a safeword because he didn’t want to give her any control, or any way to stop the scene. But now she understood: he just didn’t want to depend on something so precarious as a safeword to keep her safe. Somehow he had known, from the beginning, a safeword would be useless to her. He wasn’t taking her control away…she never had it to begin with.
“You make it sound like safewords are dangerous,” she said.
“Safewords are incredibly useful, and necessary, for most subs,” he said, grabbing her hand and entwining her fingers in his own. “But they’re dangerous if they’re the only thing a Dom is using to judge how far his sub is flying, especially for women—”
“Like me,” Ella finished. “You’re scaring me now.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing. You should be scared a little; it’ll keep you safe. You should never enter any scene with any Top until every part of what he’s going to do to you has been negotiated, with limits set in place. You should be very clear with the Top you’re playing with what you want, because once you enter into subspace, Ella, he’s going to have control over you.”
“You never negotiated with me,” Ella said softly. “I never had to tell you what I want. You just knew.”
“Well.” He smiled. “Some people just click, don’t they? We connect somehow. We have since that day at the barn. You felt it, didn’t you? I know I did.”
They were quiet for a few moments after that. Ella couldn’t stifle her smile, feeling happiness unfurling inside her chest and warming her heart like a soothing balm.
She had not been the only one who felt the connection between them. Mr. Cox felt it, too.
He rubbed his forehead and sighed deeply. “The woman who showed up here yesterday evening…the slave…she was burned, hysterical…we finally got her calmed down enough to get the story out of her…and then her Master shows up, out of his mind, demanding to see her so he could apologize. We had to tie him up just so he wouldn’t go tearing through the hotel looking for her. He was starting to hurt himself, too. He was going crazy with guilt.”
“That sounds really sad.”
“It was. It is.”
“What do you think will happen to them?”
“I don’t know. According to the doc, her burns are bad, but they’ll heal without scarring. Whether the relationship can be salvaged, I don’t know. Dean is working with them. He’s their host now. He’s good at this relationship mediation stuff.”
“Dean?”
“Mr. Dean.” Mr. Cox passed her a look. “You didn’t meet Mr. Dean? No, I guess not. Mr. Dean is another Master here. He’s a quiet, no-nonsense kind of guy.” Mr. Cox smiled. “He’s also an ass-man. Stick him in a room with a willing female ass, and he’ll get it stretched wide enough to fit a man’s arm.” He chuckled, then turned serious. “Speaking of…mmm.”
The look he gave Ella made her suddenly nervous.
“What?”
“Take off your pajama bottoms and spread your legs. I feel like fucking you.”
“In the ass?”
“No…unless you want me to?”
“No!” Ella yanked off her pajama bottoms, lay down on her back, and spread her legs. “But this isn’t exactly romantic, you know.”
“Princess, when have I ever given you the impression I’m a romantic man?” He removed his pants, but didn’t bother taking off his shirt or socks before planting himself between her legs.
Ella pouted her lips. “But, you know, usually there’s some kind of foreplay, or buildup, even if it is—oh!” She gasped as Mr. Cox nudged her thighs open wider, pulled her to him by the hips, and thrust his already hard cock deep into her cunt.
He fell on top of her, smiled, and finished her sentence for her. “Even if it is something disgusting? Perverted? Kinky and erotic and totally hot?”
“Yes!” Her eyes widened as Mr. Cox rammed once more into her quickly flooding pussy, fast and deep.
“It’s all about ownership, princess,” he said as he pounded into her. “I can choose to take you however I want.” He sat up and raised her legs around his torso. Ella could feel his thick cock hitting her all the way down, and closed her eyes.
As he continued to thrust in, she heard Mr. Cox growl above her, “don’t come yet.”
“Okay,” she said breathlessly, enjoying the pleasure pulling at her insides with each one of his thrusts.
“I mean it, Ella. Don’t come.”
“I…I won’t, Sir.”
“Good.” He let her legs go and fell on top of her with all his weight. Ella relaxed and lay still, forcing her body to hold back the rising tide of pleasure growing in her core, threatening to crash down with every delicious grind of his hips.
Her face contorted with concentration as Mr. Cox continued to fuck her. Ella could feel her orgasm building, but she held it back, ready to let it go as soon as Mr. Cox gave her permission.
But a moment later, he shuddered and held himself still inside her.
Ella’s eyes widened in surprise. Her mouth froze in a wide O as Mr. Cox rolled off her and stood up. She fairly shrieked as he began to put his pants back on.
“What the…you finished? I don’t get to come?”
“Nope,” he said. “Not yet. Later, when the timing is right. For now, I just want you very horny. Did it work?” He smiled when Ella’s face turned into a mask of fury, and she threw a pillow at him.
“You—you’re mean!” She cried as he opened the door to leave.
“I’m a sadist, princess,” he reminded her as he walked out the door. “It comes with the title.”
Ella threw another pillow at him, but it hit the back of the door.
