The Breaking of Tracy part 5

The Breaking of Tracy
part 5
Secrets

I’ve decided that, while I need to cum, I can’t give Tracy a chance to recuperate. It’s been a couple of days down here and between each session, which truth be told have been pretty relaxed thus far, I’ve given her time to contemplate upon the hopelessness of her situation. Not this time. The recent shock of raping The Hole has left her vulnerable. Now is the time to fuck with her head and make her accept, wholeheartedly, her new lifestyle. First things are first, as they say.

The sound of my feet echo down the hall announcing my arrival to the Whore. As I come upon the door to my private room down here in the dungeons, the Whore stands, waiting for instructions. Back rigid, arms behind her back with both elbows in her palms. I stop for a moment and give her the privilege of being noticed. The Whore, number 3, like the other two I keep, is clothed in a full body latex suit that exposes only her tits, cunt, eyes and mouth. I stroke her cheek. I sneak a peek at her feet, seeing the individual toes encased in latex. I don’t have a foot fetish, but I’ve always loved the sight of toes in latex.

“Give Rapewhore a bath, Whore. Do not talk to her, do not hurt her, do not comfort her. Just clean her and return her to the room.”

“Yes daddy. Is there anything else I can do for you?” Her gaze never shifts, she stares straight ahead. Whore 3 had always been a good little slave, easily trained. She had been a fast food worker from San Jose. Perhaps it’s because she had no life to speak of that she didn’t rally against abandoning it. I keep meaning to explore the possibility more.

“I am not to be disturbed until further notice. Go.” I walk past the Whore and enter my room. As the door softly clicks behind me, the Whore answers with the standard ‘Yes daddy’.

Now what is it that I am in the mood for? I want to hurt someone. Not someone, not really. I want to hurt Tracy. I want to fuck her and watch her soul wither away. I know I have to wait until a bit longer before subjecting her to my cock, but it’s so tempting. All of a sudden, I realize I can’t help myself. I’m going to fuck Tracy too soon, she’s just too perfect. No matter what or who I fuck, I’m going to be unsatisfied and get hard the moment I see Tracy again. Despite my exacting standards I hold the staff and slaves to, impulse control has never been one of my strong points. I know what I have to do.

Beside my bed is a simple black rotary phone. If I dial 1, Baby upstairs will pick up. If I dial 0, my head kidnapper Cole answers. I dial 9. And wait. For several long seconds nothing happens, the whole while my heart thundering in my chest. The ring tone finally comes, pulsing in my ear. Half way through the second ring the other line picks up and a masculine rasp answers.

“Yes?”

I lick my lips. “When do you leave?”

“Twelve hours. Has something come up?”

I hesitate. This is a serious request, one I’ve only made three times in the past. “I need you. We won’t be disturbed.”

A moment of silence. “I see. Dress for me, I will be down shortly.” The line dies.

I let out a gush of air and hang up the receiver. Understand, I am in control of so much. Sometimes…sometimes I’ve needed to give up that control. The staff, under no circumstances, can know about it. The barest of doubts in their minds as to my authority can undo decades of work. It’s just that I need…to reboot? It’s as good an explanation I have, but I latch onto it with everything I am. I don’t enjoy it, it’s just something that has to be done. If I don’t, I’ll ruin Tracy before she’s ever done. I don’t like it.

I don’t.

I am nude at the moment, as I am most of the time. At the most I wear a thin robe. My nudity is a sign of dominance, a subtle reminder of my confidence to every slave I own. Only during certain meetings or functions do I dress. And this.

I make my way around the bed to my simple dresser.