Page 5 of Vicious King

As we stepped down the hall, I heard moans and grunts coming from behind the doors, interspersed with the occasional scream, clank of a chain or crack of a whip. I swallowed hard and tried to ignore the horrible sounds. There was nothing I could do about it. All the other girls here were in the same situation as me: trapped on a distant island with no means of escape and forced to submit.

A few minutes later, I was led into a room with light gray wallpaper patterned with black damask. There was a bed on one side, covered in a dark brocade duvet with matching pillows and cushions tucked neatly under the bedhead. On the other side of the room there was a long French-style sofa with pale blue tufted fabric and golden lining. A coffee table sat in front of it.

Elias locked the door behind me, then strode over to the coffee table and picked something up. I had no idea what it was, but it looked a little bit like a plastic hair clip or clothespin. I noticed there was another identical one sitting on the table. Next to that, there was some sort of device that looked like an old iPod.

“Come here,” Elias commanded, raising a hand to motion me over.

I did as he said, quickly and quietly.

“Know what this is?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No, Master,” I murmured.

“It’s an electrically-stimulated nipple clamp. It’ll feel good for you, but only if you tell the truth. Unfortunately, we all know what a terrible problem you have with that.”

My stomach dropped. When Elias played with my nipples in the past, it felt good, but he’d never done anything too severe. The thought of having something clamping down on them made me want to shrivel up. I could almost feel some sort of pre-emptive aching in my breasts.

Elias picked up the other clip and held them both out to me. “What do you say, Doll?”

I quickly figured out what he wanted to hear. I closed my eyes for a second, then looked up at him. “Please put them on me, Master.”

“Of course.”

I wondered how many people would count this as consensual. Sure, I asked him to do it, but it was clearly under duress. Then again, I knew there were a lot of people in this world who would still blame me and say I asked for it, and therefore I deserved it.

Honestly, I probably did deserve it, considering the fact I nearly murdered a guy less than twenty-four hours ago. The same old chant abruptly started up in my head again.

Guilty, guilty, guilty.

Shame, shame, shame.

I whimpered when Elias attached the clamps to my nipples, squeezing my eyes shut as an intense pinching sensation assaulted my nerve endings. It quickly died down to a dull pressure and within a minute or so, it actually felt nice.

Really nice.

I let out a low moan of bliss. “Mm….” I assumed I was brought here for punishment, but this wasn’t so bad at all. Maybe it would even feel—“Ow!” I suddenly shrieked and fell to the carpeted floor, immediately forgetting my previous thought process. Elias had just clicked something on the electrical controller device on the coffee table.

“That’s the highest setting. Tingles, doesn’t it?” he said, watching me with interest.

I let out a sob. It was more than a damn tingle. It felt like someone had attached a live wire to the nerves beneath my breasts. My body convulsed as the violent currents pulsed through me in sharp shocks. “Please, Master,” I begged. “Stop.”

He clicked something else and the pain immediately vanished, replaced by the pleasurable pressure of the uncharged clamps.

“Get down on your hands and knees,” Elias said. “We’re going to play a little game.”

“Yes, Master,” I murmured. I assumed the position, and Elias strode across the room to grab something. When he returned, I saw that he had a book, and he placed it on the flat of my back.

“The objective of this game is to keep the book balanced. Think you can manage that, Doll?”

I nodded. As long as I stayed on my hands and knees and didn’t move or shake, the book would stay on my back.

“Good girl. Now, I want you to answer some questions for me,” he said, taking a seat on the sofa.

“Yes, Master.”

“What is your name?”

“My name is Doll,” I murmured. I knew that was exactly what he wanted to hear. As long as I kept parroting all the right answers, I would be safe.

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