Master and Slave Chapter 2: Obedience

Chapter 2: Obedience

The leather cuffs felt heavier than she expected.

Jenika stood with her wrists bound above her head, secured to a black steel bar that extended from the ceiling. Her feet barely touched the floor, just the tips of her toes grounded, enough to keep her balance. The pain from the earlier caning still echoed across her skin — each welt throbbing with heat. She could feel them when she shifted, stretched, breathed.

Alex stood behind her now, silent. She could sense his presence, the charged energy he carried like a second skin. She had imagined this so many times — what it would be like to submit to a true Master. But no fantasy had ever prepared her for the terrifying calm in his voice, or the intensity in his silence.

“You look beautiful like this,” he finally said, his breath grazing the back of her neck. “Vulnerable. Weak.”

Jenika said nothing. The contract was clear — she was allowed to speak only when asked a direct question or given permission. Everything else would be punished.

He moved in front of her, dragging a single gloved finger down her sternum. The cold leather traced the edge of a fading welt. Her breath hitched. He saw it — and smiled.

“You’ll learn your place, little one,” he murmured. “And when you forget…” He turned away, reaching for something on the table. “I’ll remind you.”

She heard the jingle before she saw the source — a chain leash, smooth silver, short. He clipped it to the ring on her collar with a practiced snap.

“You’re mine. Not just in body. I own your pain. I own your fear. And I will carve my name into every inch of you.”

Her knees nearly buckled.

He brought out a crop next — short, stiff, with a leather tongue at the end. Jenika braced herself, but he didn’t strike right away. Instead, he circled her like a storm building pressure, waiting for the right moment to release.

“Tell me,” he said, voice low. “Why are you here?”

“To serve you, Master,” she answered without hesitation.

“And?”

“To be broken.”

He nodded. “Good girl.”

The first strike of the crop landed across her stomach. A sharp crack, then a sting that bloomed like fire under her skin. He moved quickly, delivering two more strikes in succession — her ribs, then the top of her thigh.

She bit her lip.

“Count,” he reminded her.

“Three, Master.”

“Four, Master.”

“Five, Master.”

The next landed just beneath her breast. She whimpered.

“Six, Master.”

“You’re doing well,” he said calmly. “But we’re just beginning.”

Her body screamed with sensation — pain layered over pain, but beneath it all was the heat she couldn’t deny. Her body betrayed her, slick and wanting, despite the agony. Maybe because of it.

He noticed.

“You like it, don’t you?” he asked, brushing a finger between her thighs.

She moaned softly. “Yes, Master.”

“Say it louder.”

“Yes, Master — I like the pain.”

“Say it properly.”

“I crave it, Master. I crave your pain.”

He chuckled — low, dark, pleased. “That’s more like it.”

He unhooked her wrists from the bar. She collapsed into his arms, trembling, weak. He held her there for a moment — not gently, but firmly. Possessively. Then he led her to the padded bench near the fire.

“Over it. Knees apart.”

She obeyed, positioning herself with trembling grace. She didn’t know what was next — she didn’t need to. Her body, her mind, her will… they belonged to him now.

Alex stood behind her, sliding a hand into her hair, gripping tightly.

“This is obedience,” he said softly.

Then the whip cracked.

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