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Previous part: Part 15.

A week had passed since that first threesome. The Master still hadn’t let me leave the basement. Although I tried not to dwell on it, I couldn't help but wonder what he was waiting for. I knew it was his decision, that only he could determine when I’d be ready, but it was hard not to dwell on it. I kept telling myself that my time here was necessary, part of a bigger plan. But there were moments when that idea wasn’t enough to calm my mind.

The days passed with an almost soothing monotony. There had been no more threesomes after the first, and I began to think he had reserved it as something special—a promise of what could await me if I continued to be obedient. Maybe he wanted me to remember it as an incentive, a reminder of what could become my reality once I left here. That possibility was enough to keep me in line, to make me strive every day to be what he needed.

During that week, Haley and I had grown closer. The sense of competition I felt at first had completely faded, replaced by an unexpected connection. Kissing her no longer felt strange; on the contrary, it had become part of our dynamic, something that simply flowed between us. She would come to the basement to join me for meals, and at the end of each visit, we’d part with a kiss that was no longer hesitant but natural, as though it had always been that way.

Despite everything, I couldn’t help but feel a strange emptiness. I had grown used to being on my knees before him, using my lips to please him every day. There was something in that daily submission that gave me stability, that reaffirmed my place. But, as strange as it sounds, what I missed the most was his firm hand.

It wasn’t just the pain—though, in a way, I did miss that too. It was the feeling of being shaped, of knowing that every correction had meaning, that he was guiding me toward where I needed to be. Now, without that harshness, there were nights when I felt a little lost, as though something essential was missing. His firmness made me feel more connected to him, as though, through it, he was telling me: I see you. You are mine.

At night, when I was alone, my mind returned to that first threesome. I remembered how my body had responded to his commands, how, in that moment, everything else disappeared. It was the first time I truly understood my place, that I felt I had found a purpose beyond my doubts. I wanted to feel that again. I wanted to prove to him that I was ready to leave the basement.

Haley seemed to understand me, though we never talked about it directly. During those days, her company filled part of the void I felt. She made me feel less alone on this journey. We weren’t just two women coexisting under his rule; we were companions, united by the same desire to surrender to him, to please him.

Even so, there were nights when my doubts consumed me. Was I being enough? Was there something more I could do to make him consider me worthy of leaving the basement? Sometimes, that uncertainty ate away at me, but all it took was a glance from him, the way he looked at me, to make everything make sense again. In those moments, I knew he had a plan for me, even if I couldn’t fully understand it.

For now, I clung to the routine: the daily tests of obedience, the stolen moments with Haley when she joined me for meals, the memory of his hand striking my backside. Because if there was one thing I had learned during this time, it was that leaving the basement wasn’t the ultimate goal. My true desire was to become everything he needed me to be. And if that meant waiting down here until he decided, then I would wait. His. Always his.

I repeated it to myself once more as sleep began to take hold of me. Fatigue claimed my body, and little by little, my thoughts faded into the haze of exhaustion. My breathing slowed, and the darkness embraced me completely, offering the much-needed rest after such an exhausting day with the Master.

Time seemed to blur, and my mind took a moment to reconnect with my body when I woke. I felt as though something had yanked me abruptly from sleep, leaving a lingering unease that spread through me. I blinked several times, but my vision remained obscured—not by the usual dimness of the basement, but by something covering my eyes. My head felt heavy, my mind foggy, as if still trying to fully awaken.

A sharp sensation on my wrists brought me back to the present. I tried to move, but the rough scrape against my skin made me realize my hands were immobilized, tightly bound. My breathing quickened, and a sense of discomfort began to rise in my chest. What was happening?

I struggled against the restraints, but they didn’t give. The material bit into my skin with every attempt to break free. I wanted to call out, to say something, but the adhesive sealing my lips made it impossible. The tape pressed firmly, silencing any attempt to speak. Panic quickly set in, clouding my mind with a flood of questions. Who? How? Why?

My heart pounded in my chest, each beat louder than the last. I was trapped, vulnerable, completely at someone’s mercy. I felt truly naked despite being clothed, unable to comprehend what was happening. My mind scrambled for answers, but before I could form a coherent thought, I felt it: a weight, warm and familiar, hovering over me.

Then, a deep, firm pressure that made my back arch reflexively. A muffled moan escaped against the tape as the sensation overwhelmed me. The initial pain gave way to something else, something I recognized instantly: it was him. There was no doubt. His size, his strength, the deliberate rhythm with which he claimed me—everything was unmistakable.

The first wave of fear began to dissolve, replaced by a strange mix of relief and submission. It was him. My Master. He had come for me, even in my sleep. He didn’t need my permission. I was his—now and always, I told myself as he began to move inside me, asserting his right over my body.

His movements were firm, relentless. He took me with the force of someone reclaiming what was rightfully his. I felt my body respond to him, the heat of his presence consuming every fiber of my being. Closing my eyes, I surrendered, setting aside any thought, any resistance.

My voice was unnecessary, my will irrelevant. I was his. Always his. And in that moment, as he took me without hesitation, I found what I had been searching for all this time: a reminder of my place, a reaffirmation that I was his possession. He didn’t need to ask for my permission or give me commands. He simply took me because he could, because I belonged to him.

I felt him sink deeply inside me, pulling a moan from me that was trapped, stifled by the tape. Each of his movements made me more aware of how wet I was, of how incredibly good it felt to be taken, to be used without warnings or questions. The ropes that tightened around my wrists and legs added a delicious point of tension, reminding me of my place: I was nothing more than a toy for his pleasure.

My heart pounded wildly, out of control, as the pleasure consumed me, leaving me breathless. I could hear his breath, ragged and deep, his unintelligible whispers as he thrust into me with an intensity that showed no mercy. My body arched involuntarily, completely surrendered to his will.

I couldn’t hold on much longer. The pleasure was a tidal wave, breaking me from the inside out, bringing me to a powerful orgasm as he kept claiming me, never stopping, never letting me forget that I belonged to him completely.

Thrust after thrust, each of his movements went deeper, more violent, as if he sought to break something beyond my body, something within my soul. My wrists burned against the ropes, but the heat mixed with the scorching fire he ignited in me. My body trembled, unable to resist, trapped between the pain and pleasure that only he could provoke.

His rhythm became erratic, more urgent, like a storm about to break. Until finally, I felt it. His body tensed, his breath stopped for an eternal second, and then a wave of heat filled me from within. It was him, claiming me in the most visceral way possible, flooding me with his essence, letting me know that I was his in every sense.

When his body finally relaxed, he broke the silence with a whisper that cut through me like a cold blade: 'I’m going to use you all day. No complaints. You will serve me without speaking, without seeing. You will only obey, understood, my little bird?'

His words slid into my mind, leaving a trail of shivers that I couldn’t control. I nodded with a trembling motion, my breath still erratic, my body shaking under the weight of what had just happened and the promise of what was to come.

The master slowly withdrew, leaving behind the warm trace of his essence, dripping and oozing from me, an inescapable reminder of who I belonged to. His hands, firm but careful, untied the ropes that held my wrists and legs, relieving the pressure that had begun to leave deep marks. However, he didn’t remove the tape sealing my lips nor the blindfold covering my eyes.

He helped me stand, guiding me with a firmness that left no room for doubt, positioning me with my back against the cold wall. His hand rested on my face, caressing it with an unexpected softness, a contrast so stark that it disarmed me completely. It was as though, through that gesture, he reminded me that he was still there, that everything he did was a reflection of his control, but also of something deeper. His love, his dominance, his attention... each caress seemed to tell me that he still cared for me, even though the way he showed it left me trembling.

I felt his other hand slide down to my chest, gripping it decisively. His touch was firm, almost demanding, as his fingers closed around my flesh, sending a shiver through me that coursed through my body. His hand on my face slowly moved down, finding the other breast, where he began to explore it with the same intensity. He hadn’t finished with me, hadn’t stopped claiming me, and I knew it.

He squeezed my breasts harder, pulling a muffled moan from me that was lost in the air. My body responded without permission, and the moisture between my legs grew, betraying me. There was something indescribably exciting about not being able to see him, about not knowing where or when his next touch would come. That blindness stripped me of all control, leaving me completely at his mercy.

It was more than just a game; it was a reminder of my place, that my body didn’t belong to me, but to him. I was a toy in his hands, an object for his pleasure, and there was nothing in the world that made me feel more alive. He could do whatever he wanted with me because I was his, his property, and that certainty ignited something deep within me, something I couldn’t deny or stop.

He began to knead my breasts with a mix of eagerness and boldness, his firm hands claiming them as his own. I gasped, breathing heavily through my nose, feeling his fingers explore every inch of my skin with a confidence that made my legs tremble.

His fingers closed around my nipples, pressing them at first gently, almost provocatively. But quickly, the pressure increased, tearing a stifled moan from me. My nipples hardened under his touch, sensitive and on the edge of pain, while I writhed against the tape sealing my lips. The pull of his fingers was a delicious punishment, an exquisite torment that made me burn from my chest to the very depths of my being. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat amplifying the intensity of the pain and pleasure. How was it possible that something so painful could feel so damn good?

My nipples, now red and burning, stung with that familiar tingling that reminded me of his spankings. I had missed it, that feeling that brushed the fine line between unbearable and irresistible. Then I felt him move closer; his warm breath slid across my skin before his teeth sank into my chest. The bite tore a muffled scream from me, and the pain spread like an electric shock. I could feel the marks of his teeth tattooing my skin, carving a reminder that wouldn’t be easily erased.

"A reminder," he murmured, his voice low and possessive, sliding through my mind like a dark caress. "I’ll be back later, my little bird. Haley will come soon to feed you."

He took my hands in his, with a firmness I couldn’t ignore, and I felt the brush of his fingers exploring the marks the ropes had left on my skin. His touch was methodical, as though assessing the damage. When he was satisfied it wasn’t too much, he retied my wrists, this time with a softer, more deliberate knot, as if to remind me that even his apparent indulgence was still control.

His words, heavy with veiled promises, lingered in the air as the sound of his footsteps faded. Each step of his boots echoed through the stairs, engraving itself in my mind and leaving me alone with the heat of my body. My skin still burned from his touch, and desire, insatiable and relentless, consumed me from within.

I let myself fall back against the wall, feeling the cold concrete against my skin as my body trembled uncontrollably. The echo of his presence still lingered in the air, and I wondered how long he would leave me like this: blind, silenced, completely at his mercy.

I tried to ignore the sharp tingling in my nipples, the burning mark of his teeth still present as a trace of his dominance, and the growing moisture between my legs betraying me. My breath was uneven, ragged, but I forced myself to focus, to calm it. This was a challenge, one more test.

I had to prove to him that I was worthy, that I could endure it all, that I was ready to face whatever he decided for me. I was determined to leave the basement not just to breathe freedom, but to dedicate every part of my existence to him. He had saved me from the streets, tearing me from the void I lived in, and I knew that now my purpose was to be exactly what he wanted me to be.

Every second in the darkness wasn’t a punishment, but a test of my absolute submission, of my insatiable desire to please him. Because for him, for the man who had given my life new meaning, I would endure everything without hesitation.