Owning O Part 2
Part 2 of Owning O – Available now in the Masters of the Castle When the Gavel Falls boxed set.
Alan brushed his black hair back, his dark eyes moving from photo to photo. Cameras were banned from the grounds, but the Castle did employ a photographer who could be hired to provide mementos of any scene… and bribed to hand over extra copies. Most men lucky enough to play with Tavy paid to have their scenes immortalized; a story the pictures around this old mirror told in blatant carnality. Tavy hoisted in the dungeon, her body streaked with sweat and her face a mask of exquisite suffering while a Dom who wasn’t Alan applied his flogger. Tavy in the stocks; one man in her mouth while another took her from behind. Tavy on a spanking bench, and a cross, and a wooden horse covered in sharp plastic studs that bit into her tender pussy and thighs. Tavy bound. Tavy with cane welts, strap marks, and hand prints. Being cut, pierced, branded. Tavy suffering, over and over again, doing whatever was asked of her because she never refused, never cried enough, and in not one of all those many pictures did she ever look as if she was enjoying what was happening to her.
And yet, every month, she always returned. The only guest in the history of the Castle who never had to apply online or call in a reservation. She simply showed up, disappearing into Master Marshall’s office the moment she arrived, only to re-emerge with a room number, a Top assignment, and all the closed mannerisms of a very aloof O.
Something in her called to Alan. He couldn’t put his finger on what, but he wanted her. Those pictures on his mirror were a balm upon that part of his being that needed to see her, touch her—possess her—and yet, every morning when he woke up and every night when he went to sleep, they served as a painful reminder that he wasn’t what she needed. He couldn’t do to her half of what she endured at the hands of her assigned ‘Doms’. Although more than ready, willing, and able to deliver a good old-fashioned spanking from time to time, he wasn’t sadistic enough to deliver the kind of pain she took on a monthly basis. Every time he looked at the suffering represented in these photographs, all he could think was how… wrong it all was. Every detail of every scene. Every whip mark, and clamp, and forcefully maintained posture that brought out those pixelated grimaces and forever-silent cries. The only redeeming feature in any of them was Tavy herself.
To Be Continued…
To read the first part of each first chapter of all the stories in the When the Gavel Falls boxed set, please visit the other authors’ blogs below: