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master-caretaker-blog · 10 years

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TAGGING: The Caretaker, Master Hunter Clarington and Master Blaine Anderson

TIME FRAME: July 9th, 2014 - 6pm

LOCATION: The South Cliffs

SUMMARY: The Caretaker and Blaine exchange their last words; Blaine asks Hunter to bow out.

WARNING: None really; implied off-screen character death I guess

Once they’d dumped him onto the ground, Blaine forced the Caretaker up into a kneeling position - more like sitting back on his heels, thanks to the duct tape. He figured that everyone who hadn’t been in the office with him before would probably like to have proof, so he loosened the black hood over the Caretaker’s head, and with a little flourish for their benefit, he yanked it off. The old man blinked at first, and then… if looks could kill, they’d all have been dead from the Caretaker’s feral stare. For a moment, Blaine simply stared back at him. He hadn’t planned it this way - not at all - but on impulse, he bent down, getting right in the Caretaker’s face, and loosened the straps that held the ball gag in his mouth, so that it hung around his neck. “I just want to know one thing,” he said, as the Caretaker spat and coughed. “No. I want to know a few things. Whatever happened to Poppy? Slave name Poppy, formerly known as Brittany? Had an eating disorder? And Pup? Sebastian’s old claim, formerly Rory? And Trouble, who used to be Harmony….” His eyes narrowed. “And where the hell did you send Clyde?”

The Caretaker: As soon as the hood had come off his head, The Caretaker blinked and took a few seconds to regain his bearings. Once his eyes got used to the sudden sunlight, he instantly recognized where they were and quickly figured out what the ultimate plan was. They weren’t going to imprison him - a wise choice that he grudgingly gave them credit for; if he remained with any chance of getting free, he would do whatever it took to regain his freedom and take back over. Now though, his only option was a fight for survival. He knew the rocks below would create a huge problem, as would the undercurrent. But if he fell just right, his chances of survival rose dramatically. He started coughing when the gag was forcibly removed but glared at Blaine the entire time. “Why should you care? None of them were used properly here by the pathetic excuses for masters.”

Blaine clenched his fists, both out of anger and as a very pointed threat. “You don’t need to understand,” he spat, “just tell us where they are. Clyde and Poppy and the others. Tell us what you did with them!”

The Caretaker smirked and raised his head defiantly. “Dead or sent somewhere to be useful.”

Blaine grabbed him by the neck and shook hard, growling wordlessly in frustration. Clyde, he’d been keeping tabs on as well as he could - he was fairly sure he was back on the Brother Island now. But Pup and Poppy had been difficult cases, and they’d been gone for such a long time. “Who’s dead? Poppy? Who?!” It occurred to him then that the man was stalling; he must know that they needed to move quickly. Angrily, he flung the Caretaker back against the ground. “Tell me!”

The Caretaker purposefully looked away from Blaine enjoying the surge of anger. “Why should I remember what happens to slaves? They’re all insignificant after all. There is no need to waste time on failed attempts when new, younger, and better looking slaves are available.” He glanced back over at Blaine and openly grinned, clearly enjoying the look of anger and frustration on his face. “If only you applied the strength you have right now to being a Master, you would have been one of the best. Perhaps I should have made you my heir instead.”

Blaine took a stumbling step backwards. The words held the ring of truth - the Caretaker didn’t remember individual slaves. But the faint, backhanded praise reminded Blaine so much of his own father, in ways that frightened and angered him. His eyes fell on Quinn and Tess. “We should hurry, but you guys can see if you can get anything out of him if you want,” he said, thickly. “I’m fucking done.”

As the rest of the group crowded around the Caretaker, Blaine hung back, taking Hunter by the arm. “Not you, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice low. “I want you to stay here. Have a seat on the grass and rest for a while. Can you do that for me?”

Hunter had checked out of all this a long time ago, maybe even before the whole ploy even started. He wasn’t so much thinking as he was just…following orders and reacting. And when Blaine suggested getting answers from his father, he moved forward, his hand falling to his favorite whip that hung from his belt as always. But then he was being stopped, pulled back and away. Hunter blinked up at Blaine, seeing…some emotion on the other Master’s face. He shook his head. “Rest? I’m fine. Much better than probably anyone except maybe the ones that were tucked away in the cabin.” He shook his arm a little, trying to brush Blaine off. “Come on, let’s just get this done.”

Blaine wasn’t exactly surprised by that reaction, but he also wasn’t going to let it deter him. He squeezed Hunter’s arm a little more firmly. “Hey, Look at me, Hunter,” he said, his voice low and calm. “We can do this part without you. I don’t want you to have to see it, let alone take part. That’s too much. Do you understand?” He watched Hunter’s face intently. “I wouldn’t let your brother do it either, even if he’d wanted to.”

Hunter shrugged. “This part is no different than any other. I’ve come this far. It’d be a rather cowardly thing to do to not see it through,” he said as he stared back at Blaine. He glanced over the shorter man’s shoulder, watching the group of Masters as they crowded around his father. Even if he didn’t actually do it, there was blood on his hands still. And he just wanted this done. “So now that the hard part is over you want me to just stand down and let you take the victory?”

Blaine glanced over, followed Hunter’s line of sight, then positioned himself between the rest of the group and Hunter. “No,” he said, quickly but quietly. “I want to take my share of the guilt, and the blame, and everything else that comes with it, so that you don’t have to…” Blaine gazed up at Hunter, trying to let him see the sincerity written all over his face. “Have you noticed that Sebastian isn’t here?” he said, keeping his voice down. “That’s not an accident. You and I both know he has one of the biggest hearts on this island, and… I didn’t want him here for this. And I don’t want you here for it either.”

Hunter still wasn’t very convinced. And all this was doing was wasting time. “I’m fine, Blaine. I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t. I can handle it.” He looked over at Blaine, without so much as a blink. “If you want me to sit this out, you’re going to have to make me.”

Blaine huffed out a short breath, his eyes narrowing. “And I’m fully prepared to do that,” he said, sliding his hand down to Hunter’s wrist, where his cuff used to be, and squeezed through the sleeve. “If you still think -” But then Blaine froze, cutting himself off. His eyes went wide and flicked back up to Hunter’s, then he hastily shoved Hunter’s sleeve up his arm to confirm what he’d felt with his own eyes. “You’re still wearing it,” he said, softly, in the same surprised and delighted tone of voice a partner might use to say ‘flowers? for me?’ For a couple of seconds Blaine’s expression was all softness and light, then it settled into a sort of smirk. Rising up on his toes, he whispered into Hunter’s ear. “Hunter Clarington, I am trying to help you and I believe that one day you will see that. But for now, if you don’t do as you’re told and sit down, I’ll have to spank that pretty ass of yours right in front of all these people.” Blaine sank back down on his heels and gave Hunter a tiny smile. “Your move, Beautiful.”

Hunter's brow furrowed a little in confusion at Blaine’s surprise. “Of course I’m still wearing it. I still belong to you and you told me to never take it off,” he said as if it were common sense. The whispered threat however…There was no confusion there. A part of Hunter wanted to throw caution to the wind and call Blaine’s bluff, but the much wiser part of him was sure Blaine wasn’t bluffing. With a loud huff, he looked away, almost pouting. “Fine,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay….But for the record, I don’t think you would do that.”

Blaine let out a long, shuddering breath, his smile softening again. “Mine,” he breathed, reaching up to caress Hunter’s cheek lightly. “Well, you - you did have to break a few rules, I think, to get this far, but that’s what I asked you to do. To protect yourself.” He laughed, warmly, if a little shakily. “Such a good boy. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you, but if I thought it was for the best…” Blaine forced himself to pull it together. They didn’t have time for this yet, he reminded himself sternly; for all they knew, guards were coming for them even now. “Just wait here. It won’t take but a minute. Don’t look at us; look out over the island. You can see a long way from here.” Rising onto his toes once more, he kissed Hunter on the cheek, then tore himself away.

Hunter nodded. “Yes, Sir….Just…hurry.” His eyes closed at the kiss to his cheek and he wanted more, wanted Blaine to stay and—but he couldn’t. This had to be over with. With a sigh, he turned his back on everything and did as he was told, looking out over the island.

Before The Fall || The Caretaker, Blaine, Hunter

#p:before the fall #ppcblaine #ppchunter #m:blaine #m:hunter #//goodbye my dear T_T

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master-caretaker-blog · 10 years

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To Each There Is A Time To Fall || Master Caretaker, Master Andrew Johannson, Master Blaine Anderson, Master Hunter Clarington, slave Nick Duval (Ducks), slave Jeff Sterling (Mianach), slave Kurt Hummel (Kitten), slave Kenna Moretti

Tagging: The Caretaker, Master Blaine Anderson, Master Hunter Clarington, Master Andrew Johannson, slave Kenna Moretti, slave Nick Duval (Ducks), slave Jeff Sterling (Mianach), slave Kurt Hummel (Kitten)

Timeframe: July 9th, 2014, a little after 5:00pm

Summary: The Masters confront the Caretaker resulting in the end of the Caretaker's reign of terror.

Warning: Bondage and mild violence.

The Caretaker: There hadn't been a power outage in a couple of years which only solidified the Caretaker's decision to replace the guards on the island. Only incompetent fools would allow such a thing to happen, especially with the hints of unrest that he'd detected among the Masters following his punishment of one of their own. Thankfully he had a lamp that lit up his office that didn't run on electricity so he was still able to continue working without any interruption. Not a few minutes ago a guard had run up reporting a slave escape attempt and it was obvious to him that the slave was responsible for the power shutting off. "Fools," he muttered as he quickly wrote out orders for new guards and for the current annoyances he had to be removed. He was going to regain control of his island by whatever means necessary and teach these far too soft Masters exactly where they fell short.

Hunter moved once the power was off, but he held back as he waited for Blaine, Andrew, and their slaves to go ahead. Their jobs were the guards outside his father's door. He and Nick had to take on his father. If he were in his right mindset, he would have hated this plan, he would have argued and fought and ultimately refused to let his claim anywhere near anything like this and he damn sure would have refused to bring down his father. But Hunter wasn't in his right mindset. It was going to happen with or without him so he'd said yes and just sort of...shut down. "You can do this, Nick," he said quietly, giving the boy's hand a squeeze. "Just remember what I told you and you'll be alright. I'll be there the whole time. Quick and then it's over." Hunter glanced over at his slave, at the boy who trusted him so much. "I love you, my beautiful boy. Everything's going to be fine," he whispered, moving in to steal a quick kiss before he tugged Nick past the fray and to the double doors of the Caretaker's office.

Nick was a nervous wreck right now, cautiously following behind his Master whose reassurances were reminding the boy why he was putting himself through such an ordeal. He nodded at the words offered to him, lingering on the kiss that seemed to fill him full of a new found strength, converting some of that fear into fight. "I love you too, Master." He whispered back in a very quiet tone, before letting silence fill the air once more as the small journey to the door was completed. Nick had never actually seen it before, and the mere sight of it made the knots in his stomach tighten further. He turned to Hunter, looking between them and the door. "So... We-We just charge it, right? We get the door open and we dart straight for him?" He felt slightly strange talking about his Master's Father like this, but if it was what Hunter wanted, then Nick was willing to do what he needed to give his Master that.

The Caretaker could hear a bit of commotion outside his door and paused, his hand over a document. That was strange, only the two guards outside his door were supposed to be in the hallway. Only two other guards were anywhere near his office unless there had been some Masters in the meeting room a few doors down. But no, he would have known if they were meeting, a guard always informed him whenever anyone went into the room, especially if multiple masters went into the room. The last master that had even come near his office was his eldest who had done his usual review of the island and left as normal. No, something else was going on, something more than just an escaped slave.

Hunter nodded at Nick, his mind too much on the task at hand to speak out loud. He reluctantly dropped Nick's hand and took a deep breath. This was it. They could do it. Nick could do it....He could do it. Without another second to waste, he leaned forward and turned the knobs of the doors, shoving them both as hard as he could. They parted open inward, the wood slamming into something and more or less announcing their presence. Fuck. "Now, Nick," he hissed, his eyes trained on his father behind the desk.

Nick could feel his heart begin to pick up as soon as Hunter's hand had let him go, so by the time he heard the thud of the doors, it felt like it was going 500 beats a minute. The next few moments seemed to almost go in slow motion then, Nick hearing the words of Hunter, composing himself for a split of a second and then taking off, sprinting in the Caretaker's direction and diving forward in an attempt to take the man down, next feeling the harsh solid floor accompanied by a thud and a small groan from himself.

The Caretaker saw the door opening and knew that this was so much more than just a simple scuffle. This was all planned. How they'd managed to plan something like this without his knowledge was beyond what he could consider in a brief second. Quickly he reached into his toy drawer, thankful that he hadn't locked it again after fucking that slave a few hours before, and pulled out his favorite flogger. "Enough," he roared standing up from his desk and moving around it quickly, flicking out his wrist as he moved to keep the slave away.

Hunter watched Nick dart into the room and moved a second later, taking the opposite way once he could see his claim had his father's attention. But then the boy was on the floor and Caretaker had a flogger in his hand--a nasty one--and he almost froze. Everything in him screamed to move, to abort, to disobey his orders and protect Nick. He had to get in between them...But he couldn't. Nick had known the risks going in and had agreed. Hunter slipped up behind his father and reached out quickly, decisively and snagged the man's wrists. Tugging them behind his back was a little harder than he'd thought, Caretaker was stronger than he'd realized, but he had this. "Drop it," he commanded, applying pressure to his father's wrists as he twisted them back.

Nick's initial response to the sight of the man towering above him with the flogger was one that froze him in fear, the boy having to mentally calm himself to prevent from curling up into a ball and instinctively flinching from the pain, but he had Yoga to thank for the calming techniques. The boy instead tried to move himself out of the way of the hands, having then noticed his Master holding the other back which gave Nick further reassurance and time to roll out of the way. Watching carefully now to see what the next move would be.

The Caretaker pulled his wrist easily out of the hand coming from behind him only to realize with a snarl that it was the arm not holding the flogger. "You will remove your hands this instant," he snarled trying to turn around to see who was trying to get the best of him. The slave seemed cowed already and he'd done nothing more than attempting to hit it with the flogger in his hand. He would have to take a closer look at the slave later and remove it from whatever Master owned it. A slave that cowed at the sight of a punishment did not need to belong to a Master that would send it into a situation such as this. Only to his frustration, whomever it was behind him also was preventing him from turning around. He let out a growl of anger and tugged sharply against the hands holding him still.

Hunter let out a growl of his own as his father was able to slip free from his hold, but thankfully, Caretaker's attention still seemed to be somewhat on Nick. Of course, Hunter didn't like the idea of his sweet claim being in the man's sights period, but it was necessary. "I don't take orders from you anymore, Father," he said in a low voice. Outing himself probably wasn't the best idea, but he didn't care anymore. He twisted ruthlessly on the wrist he still held, using the moment of pain to reclaim the one his father had managed to free. But even restrained like this wasn't enough for Hunter, not now. Without thinking, he kicked out hard, the hit connecting just below his father's knee. He wanted to see the old man down on his knees where he'd kept everyone else.

Nick was now a safe distance away and back onto his feet, looking around for something to grab as use of a weapon. He knew it looked like his Master had this all under control, but the boy knew that this operation required extra care being taken as error would mean the end of probably everyone that he had come to care for. He ended up taking a particularly heavy paper weight, still facing the man but also making eye contact with his Master now as he watched the man fall, causing Nick to move backwards a little, still remaining quiet as this confrontation was between Father and Son, with Nick acting as a protector.

The Caretaker scoffed as he recognized the voice. A fine time for Hunter to grow a backbone when it came to him. He was weak for a Master but had been showing signs of potential once more over the past few weeks, a change he fully attributed to the near constant attention of his eldest son. "You will let me go and I will see that you go without punishment," he spoke in a low but threatening voice. "I may even allow you to keep your slave. Defy me and you will never see your family nor your precious slave ever again." The kick to his knee wasn't unexpected, it was one of his own favorite tricks to use to subdue, although he was a bit miffed that it was being used against himself. As he went down, he glared at the hovering slave. "You! slave! Stop that incessant hovering and release me at once!"

Hunter laughed, but it was bitter. "Even on your knees you're acting as if you rule the world. Sorry, but I'm the only one of us capable of doing that." He honestly wasn't scared of anything Caretaker had to threaten him with. Even if this failed...It felt too good to finally stand up to the man. But then his father was talking to Nick, ordering him and that was just too much. "Shut your mouth, now. Don't you dare talk to him like that," he growled as he twisted his father's arms painfully, leaning into the motion to add extra weight to it. Surely Blaine and Andrew would be here any second. Surely they would. They'd better be....Because Hunter wasn't sure he could be trusted alone for much longer with the tyrant.

Nick looked down at the man, his threats whilst supposedly empty still put slight fear into the boy as he could no longer imagine a world without his Master. However, no level of threat would sway his loyalty to Hunter so once the man started giving orders, Nick didn't so much as flinch, instead making eye contact with his Master, smiling once he heard his protective tone, but not keeping that face for long once he recalled the severity of this situation. He looked from the door to Caretaker and then back to Hunter, realising now that this was a waiting game that needed to end soon to prevent an overload in tension.

Andrew moved purposefully, aware of Blaine and the slaves behind him but focused completely on getting to his father's office. He felt nerves jump in his chest but ignored them, taking a deep breath as he shoved open the familiar door and strode in. It was now or never. "Hello, Father." the blond said coolly, taking in the scene before him. He nodded to Hunter, and gestured for Jeff to go stand with Nick leaving Blaine to handle his claim and rental.

Blaine took a deep breath, glancing up briefly as Andrew and Mia ducked into the office to make sure Hunter was doing all right. He let it out slowly as he snapped a zip-tie around a guard's wrists. It was important to maintain a composed exterior, he felt, for the sake of the slaves - more so Andrew and Hunter's than his own scrappy duo. "All right, now," he said, giving Kurt a split-second's meaningful look, "Both of you grab the arms and pull together - no, not this guy. I'll deal with him. The one Andrew knocked out. Make sure you get him fully inside so I can bring the other guy in and shut the door." As they started to obey, Blaine, panting, moved to zip tie his guard's ankles together. The last two minutes or so had passed in a blur - Andrew had handled the guard posted on the left side of the Caretaker's door almost on his own, but this other guard, the one Blaine was still restraining, had been a little harder to put down. Blaine had sent Kurt in first, telling him to stay low to the ground and try to tackle the guard as a sort of bait-and-switch. Kurt sprung at the guard bravely, and sure enough, the guard had lashed out at him, striking him across the back with his little whip, which had allowed Blaine to jump him, punching him in the side of his head and then getting him into a choke-hold. Even then, the guard had struggled, until Kenna had very helpfully put her knife against his throat. As useful as she was, Blaine almost regretted giving her that thing. She seemed to be enjoying herself almost a little too much. Grabbing the bound and gagged guard by his feet, Blaine followed Kenna and Kurt into the office in that awkward, backward shuffle one uses when dragging something heavy. "Is everyone okay?" he asked, tugging the grumbling guard off to one side.

The Caretaker was just about fed up with the entire thing. In the few moments since Hunter had pushed him down, he had pieced together the entire plan and had figured out exactly who was involved. He should have known. If Hunter was a part of this, his so-called boyfriends had to be involved somehow and he knew that his eldest wouldn't let Hunter do anything dangerous without his being a part - a weakness he needed to beat out of him. The affection the two had for each other was at an end. Once he regained control he would see to it. The commotion outside grew louder as he mused until he could see more slaves running into the room merely confirming his suspicions. "Let go now and your punishment will be merciful," he warned Hunter obviously eyeing Nick.

Hunter barely noticed the very big entrance his backup made; he was still focused on his father. "How generous, Father. Too bad we didn't take that after you," he said, his voice almost mocking. The room was suddenly a lot fuller and noisier and he knew that meant his part was over....but he couldn't let go. Something inside him wanted to hold on, wanted to hurt the man that had brought him into the world. Wanted him to suffer as everyone else had at his hand. Hunter didn't acknowledge his brother, nor Blaine. Instead he stood still, restraining his father and doing his best to restrain his own urge to do more.

Andrew nodded in response to Blaine. At the Caretaker's words he scowled, slapping his whip sharply on his Father's cheek to capture his attention. He hated that he was trying to intimidate Hunter. "Wasn't it you who always told me the truly foolish were the ones who tried to give orders from their knees?" he glanced around the room at Kenna twirling her knife with a frankly disturbing grin on her face, Kurt strung taught as a bowstring, then finally his own slave armed with a riding crop and his brother restraining the man he loathed to call father. Taking a few steps, he placed himself firmly between the Caretaker and his desk where he knew the panic buttons were before turning his attention to his brother. He was stiff, ignoring both Blaine and Andrew himself, who had a feeling he was working hard to restrain himself. "Hunter? Hey, help Blaine restrain him." he said, voice calm but firm, wanting to snap his brother out of the daze he was in.

Blaine was already moving toward the Hunter and his father. "Hi," he said, simply, as he knelt on the floor next to them. Hunter didn't respond immediately, other than a slight tightening in his jaw, but for the time being Blaine could work with that. He slung his bag off his shoulder, whipped out another zip-tie, and sat on the Caretaker's legs, yanking off his shoes and socks, then binding his ankles together. It wasn't an easy task - the Caretaker apparently had no intention of going quietly. "Kitten, Mia, come help us sit on him, would you?" When he turned around, Hunter still hadn't moved a muscle, so Blaine leaned forward and whispered directly into his ear. "Hey, you've done enough for now, don't you think?" And then, a little more firmly, he added, "Let me take your place, Sweetheart."

Jeff blinked up at the command and nodded as he moved over to Blaine quickly. Okay, so maybe he wasn't too crazy about being near his Master's dad...and brother, but he'd promised to do whatever was asked of him. He watched Blaine for a few seconds before finding somewhere he could be useful.

Kurt hesitated before slowly making his way over to the Caretaker. He'd made it his mission ever since he'd gotten there and first seen what the caretaker was like to avoid him and now he had to sit on him? Warily he sat down near his feet, eyes flickering back and forth rapidly between Blaine and the Caretaker ready to bolt as soon as things got messy.

Hunter didn't budge, not at first. He'd been given his orders and he just...And then Blaine was beside him and there were slaves moving and doing things. A part of him wanted to snap, tell them to back off. Finally, he glanced over at Blaine at the sound of the nickname and blinked a few times. "I-I...." Hunter didn't really know what to say so with a nod, he relaxed his grip a little. Then a little more and more until finally, he'd released his father.

The Caretaker spat on the floor angrily. "Those that are truly foolish believe they can plat at militia." Yes he'd definitely underestimated the relationship between these three and their slaves. No matter, within a few moments, more guards would arrive and help subdue them and he'd be sure to split all of them apart. This time his sons had gone too far. "You will release me and remove that filth from my sight. And to think you held potential. Your mother would be ashamed she gave birth to such a failure."

Andrew's hand clenched white around his whip, the only tell that the words registered to him. "And yet we are the ones in control, and you're the one zip-tied and held down beneath two loyal slaves and a Master you probably thought would never betray you. We don't take your orders anymore." He straightened his back at the mention of his mother, storm clouds growing dangerously in his eyes. "Perhaps she will and perhaps she won't, but I think in time she'll see how poisonous you really were. Either way, it's not like she'll ever really know what happened here." Collecting himself for a moment, he eyed the guard whose ribs Kenna was digging her heel into. "Perhaps he ought to be knocked out. Collateral damage if he hears what he something he shouldn't."

Kenna grinned, digging her heel in deeper at Andrew's words. "My pleasure." she said, shifting so she could slam her heel into his nose. A smirk took over her features as the man's eyes rolled back into his head and he went limp.

Blaine nodded. “Not the worst idea,” he agreed, then smirked as Kenna went right to it. He took Hunter’s place with a zip-tie ready in hand, and quickly bound the Caretaker’s wrists before his son had completely let go. “Thank you,” he murmured, searching Hunter’s face for a second… but as much as it pained him, he didn’t have time to worry about him now. Instead, he shoved the Caretaker forward onto his face, and beckoned the timid slaves with a slight roll of his eyes. “C’mon, guys, put more weight on him than that. Don’t be scared. He’s harmless now.” To illustrate his point, Blaine lifted his ass and bounced back down onto the Caretaker’s lower back. “See? Just sit down right on him. I know Kenna wouldn’t be scared to do it, but she’s not heavy enough.”

Andrew and Hunter would have been more reliable than the slaves, but from this part, at least, Blaine wanted to spare Andrew and Hunter. Pulling a pair of shears, he sliced through as much of the Caretaker’s black leather clothes as he could and tore them away, even the undergarments beneath, though he left those partially intact as much for his own sanity as anything else. He’d practiced this whole thing on Kitten with black bondage tape, which was only designed to stick to itself and therefore painless to remove. His first instinct had been to use the same on the Caretaker. But as the day had drawn closer, Blaine had realized that duct tape was more secure, and… as he’d eventually forced himself to acknowledge, they’d never be needing to remove it. So he’d brought two black rolls of duct tape, and he used it now, slowly mummifying the Caretaker from his neck down his chest, along his thighs, nearly to his knees. Then Blaine forced the Caretakers legs to bend double and taped them together, and when he’d finished, he duct-taped both arms together as well. The hands and feet he had planned to wrap as well, fearing that any wrinkled skin would give them away, but now that he got a better look than he’d ever wanted, Caretaker’s skin was remarkably well preserved. He must have been observing a skincare regimen to make Kitten proud… which was a thought that he really didn’t need to have. Blaine pushed it down deep inside, somewhere near the inner voice that he couldn’t quite turn off - the one telling him that this was an old man, and he should stop hurting him.

He had chosen an easy tool, and he was efficient enough - the whole thing took only a few minutes, even with various slaves needing to move on and off the different parts of the Caretaker's body.

The Caretaker was furious that his threats and orders were going unheeded. This hadn't happened since he created the mansion and business, before he proved himself to be a formidable master. The slaves had forgotten who they truly belonged to and the masters, including his sons, were openly defying him as if he were an inconsequential slave. And somehow, no guards were coming to investigate the racket - an impossible thing when they were trained to race to the nearest racket and put an end to it, unless a Master was openly punishing a slave. He wasn't anywhere near enough to reach out and press any of his buttons to immediately call all his guards which only meant that these masters, if he could even refer to them like that anymore, had found a distraction for the guards that would supersede their standing orders. The slaves sitting on him merely added insult to injury. How dare they touch him let alone sit on him! His own slave wasn't allowed to touch him without permission. "Get this filth off of me!" he roared struggling even as he hit the floor. "You dare to let a slave touch me?" He was so preoccupied with knocking the slaves off of him that he failed to notice at first that his clothes were being cut off until the first brush of air hit his skin. He was never without his long sleeves and pants, more out of habit than anything else. He was stunned for a moment before renewing his struggles. "Anderson! Remove yourself and your filthy slave immediately." He gave it one more attempt at throwing the shorter man off of him before growling and trying to kneel instead of being face down. "I should have brought you to your knees and taught you your place the first time I had to punish you."

Andrew couldn't help the sadistically pleased grin that spread across his lips, watching his father's futile struggles. The man was so unwilling to admit he'd been beaten, that there was really no chance for him to regain control of the situation. It made him look pathetic, and the more he thought about it the more he realized that most of his father's actions had been just that over the years. Pathetic. "You really don't get it, do you?" He asked incredulously. "Here you are, taped up with not a single person trying to help you, and yet you lay there, for lack of a better work, bitching about Blaine. You've lost, father. Accept it. None of your guards are coming for you. They're busy with other problems. All you've got here is us, and do we seem particularly friendly to you?"

Blaine shook his head as he finished up with the tape. If the Caretaker had begged for his life, or cried out in pain or fear, Blaine would hardly have been able to go on. As it was, the man’s sheer arrogance made it easy… or at least, easier. Reaching into his bag, Blaine pulled out the very last items he’d brought: a black hood, and a ball gag. He held both items up so everyone could see. “If no one has any objections?” He wanted more than anything to just go ahead, but in his mind, it was Andrew and Hunter’s decision when the conversation was over.

The Caretaker snarled and struggled against the tape hiding his dismay when he realized it was holding firm. "I object," he bit out glaring hatefully at Blaine before turning his gaze to Hunter and Andrew. "I will skin you alive and feed it to your slave and when I am finished with you, I will destroy each and every one of you." His gaze turned back to Hunter and Andrew. "If you think my punishments were harsh before, what you have opened yourself up to will be beyond your wildest dreams. You can say goodbye to any freedom you had, any chance you had at any sort of life. The slave I gifted is more of a credit than either of you could ever be."

Andrew bit back a snarl, though he couldn't stop the curling of his lip. Without letting his gaze stray from his father, he held out his hand to Blaine for the ball gag. "Serena is a fair bit stronger that us, because she is forced to deal with that pig of a head guard every day knowing the man who is supposed to be her father just gave her away. Do NOT bring my siblings into this."

Blaine looked towards Hunter for confirmation, but Hunter wasn’t saying anything. He hadn’t said anything in a long time, in fact... Pushing his worry aside, Blaine handed over the gag, then helpfully lifted the Caretaker's head by the hair, and pinched his nose closed to force his mouth open. “Obviously,” he said, in as light and disaffected tone he could muster, “I didn’t mean you.”

Andrew shoved the gag roughly into the Caretaker's mouth, fairly sure he'd broken a tooth or two in the process. After it was securely buckled, he stood and stepped back with a last disdainful glare. conflicted as he was, he could not wait to be rid of the weight of his father's shadow. "You know the rest of the plan?" He directed to Blaine, raising an eyebrow. "Everything in place?"

Blaine slipped the hood over the Caretaker's head, tightening it around his neck, then taping it down. "As far as I know," he said, standing. "But we just have to trust now." He stepped forward, taking Andrew's hand. "They say possession is nine-tenths of the law,” he said, gesturing to the Caretaker’s seat. A smile briefly flickered across his face. “Hold the fort, sir. Whatever happens now, it’s been a pleasure.” Turning, he addressed the slaves. "You four. Stay here, and whatever happens, protect Andrew. Defend him at all costs.”

Kenna whined a bit, kicking the unconscious guard before stepping forward. "Not that I don't love the idea of being Malfoy's glorified guard dog, but I still think you should just let me slit his throat." she said offhandedly, 'accidentally' stepping on the Caretaker's foot as she darted in to give Blaine a quick hug and whisper, "Be careful, Honeybear," into his ear. "We've got this." She said louder, stepping back to sling an arm around Jeff's waist.

Kurt hesitated before rushing across the room to wrap his arms around Blaine's neck. "Please be careful," he whispered, squeezing tightly. "Come back to me. I like Master Johannson but I don't want him to be my new master."

Jeff was glad to be rid of his task of holding down the Caretaker. He moved into Kenna a little as she wrapped an arm around his waist. He really, really wanted to go to his Master, to hug him or kneel at his feet. But he'd been told to stand and fight, defend him and that's what he'd do. "Yes, Sir, Master Blaine. We got this."

Andrew raised an eyebrow at the bloodthirsty slave, and allowed Blaine's claim his moment before speaking up. "Fairly sure that law doesn't apply to secretly-hostile takeovers, but I get your meaning." He said, clasping Blaine's hand in a firm grip. "Don't do anything unnecessarily stupid." Dropping the other man's hand, he turned his eyes to Jeff and gave him a reassuring smile before moving to press a gentle kiss to Hunter's temple. "Be careful, baby brother. Come back all in one piece, yeah?"

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kenna, then lifted Kurt off his feet, kissing him deeply, but all too briefly. “Hunter and I will be back in three hours or less. That's a promise," he told Kurt, when he set him down again - but he said it loudly enough that everyone could hear him. "I want you guys to lock the door behind us, and don’t open it again until you hear our voices. Okay?" He looked around the room at all of them. "Patch up any cuts you may have, okay guys? Even minor ones. Oh, and group project," he added playfully, catching Andrew's eyes. "Help Andrew come up with a new title for himself as head-of-state. The old one won't work anymore." Blaine bit his lip. They didn't really have time to be saying all this, and he knew it. "Hunter? Are you... ready?" He tried to read Hunter's face, unsuccessfully. "Come help me lift him?"

Hunter had been quiet during the whole process. His part had been done and he knew better than to step in when he was...in the place he was in right then. There was a plan. He just had to follow the plan. The kiss to his temple stirred him back to the here and now a little and he turned at the sound of his name. He blinked at Blaine. Lift him, him being his father. It was...time. He gave a nod. "Yeah, let's go. Let's get this over with," he replied, moving to help Blaine.

Blaine ran a hand over Hunter's shoulder, squeezing it protectively. He knew he couldn't stop to comfort Hunter now; there just wasn't time. But god, he wished he could. "The legs should make a good handle," he said, instead. "I'll take the front, you take the back - let's just hurry." Opening the door, Blaine looked both ways before returning to pick up the Caretaker. "Bye guys," he said, one last time - and then they shuffled out the door.

#ppcevent0 #p:to each there is a time to fall #ppcblaine #ppchunter #ppcandrew #ppckenna #ppcnick #ppcjeff #ppckurt #m:blaine #m:hunter #m:andrew #s:kenna #s:nick #s:jeff #s:kurt

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master-caretaker-blog · 10 years

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Rent Request For slave Emma Faulkner → Approved

Approved Master Smythe. Return it by end of day July 13th.

The Caretaker

#renting #rapproved #ppcsebastian #ppcemma #m:sebastian #s:emma #submission

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master-caretaker-blog · 10 years

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I Do Not Tolerate Weakness || The Caretaker, Mistress Quinn Fabray

Tagging: The Caretaker, Mistress Quinn Fabray

Timeframe: June 6, 2014, mid day

Summary: Quinn is punished for admitting to being submissive

Warning: Whipping, sexual torture, paddling, flogging, dub con, blood, general evilness

Quinn cried out in protest as three pairs of calloused, sweaty hands tore at her clothes. They'd arrived mere minutes after the verdict had been handed down, and Quinn was instantly thrown into a panic--Clyde already was in a rage, and a separate corps of guards descended on him, and her slave was fighting back with everything he had. He was screaming for Quinn to run, to hide, to get as far the fuck away from this tropical hell hole as possible, but the blonde was too stunned to move; she backed into a corner, eyes wide with fear. They approached like wolves cornering prey; faces predatory with rapacious teeth bared. The moment one pair of fingers reached for her, Quinn sprung up and ran for the door, only to be met with a club to her spine, and a hand fisted in her long blonde hair, wrenching her down to the floor.

"No, no, no, Slavebray, you're coming with us." One of them said as he unceremoniously tore her dress from her body in one clean pull. The other made quick work of her underwear, fondling a breast as he did so. Finally, the third grabbed for her wrists, binding them with zip ties and yanking her body toward the open door. Terror and anger ignited every neuron and synapse inside of her, as she flailed and convulsed against their hold; but they were too strong.

By the time they'd arrived at the Caretakers office, parts of her skin had rubbed raw from being literally dragged along the ground. Heart jackhammering in her chest, Quinn was greeted by the muffled sounds of screaming; screaming she instantly recognized. Little Whore. And for the briefest of moments her blood burned white hot in anger over the tiny slave's contribution to this precarious situation. But that too, was short lived, as her eyes surveyed the Caretaker's office for the first time.

The Caretaker had planned his timing well if not for the slight irritation of dealing with his slave. While the others were still reeling from his announcement, he would have all the time in the world to extract every ounce of pain from the woman who had dared to make a mockery of everything he had built. Masters were to be firm, cold, and above all they were to be dominant and strong. All her actions went to show was that women were indeed weak and did not have the important qualities to be Masters on his island.

As he waited, he amused himself with carrying out Little Whore's punishment. He was appalled that his own slave would act out in such a manner and promptly decided that it wasn't to be left alone for a single moment from then on. If he wasn't present, a guard would be until it learned its lesson. He'd had the guards strap her to a Saint Anthony's Cross with her legs spread wide and was flicking his wrist in random motions making sure the whip hit her back from varying degrees. After a few softer motions, he wound his arm up like he was about to pitch a baseball and let the next few hits be at his full strength to get his point across. Let the whore learn its lesson and terrify his next victim a bit.

It was obvious when the guards entered his office a second time. The sounds they were making could be heard down the hall as well as the sharp intake of breath that could only come from her. He let fly a few more hits before handing the whip to the guard in the room. "Finish its punishment then bind it and lock it in its cage. Do not remove the gag."

He strode into his office fixing his suit and brushing imaginary lint off of his shoulder. He knew this suit would be ruined by the time he retired for the evening and the anticipation only served to excite him further. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he purred, casually walking up to her, tangling his fingers in her hair. "A pathetic excuse for a mistress who thinks it's acceptable to spread her legs for anyone. A joke of a mistress who is herself a secret slave. It's no wonder your father sent you here to avoid tarnishing your family's reputation. Only a slave would crave sex so badly that it would end up pregnant and on its knees in front of me like this."

Quinn struggled to move her head away from the Caretaker's hand, the touch of his fingers on her scalp practically leaving a burning sensation in their wake. Every mocking word out of his mouth oozed like acid, causing Quinn to recoil at the sound as though each syllable were a punch to the gut. Pathetic...a joke...tarnishing your family...pregnant...SLAVE. Though at one time Quinn was a carefree nudist, right now she'd never felt more exposed in her life, and wanted this to end as quickly as it had begun. Setting her jaw, and gazing at some nonexistent point on the far wall, Quinn spoke tersely; "Just get it over with."

The Caretaker let go of her hair and slapped her across the face. "You will refer to me as Master. All I want to hear from your mouth is 'thank you master,' 'yes master,' 'more please master' and 'harder master.' If I decide you are allowed to say anything further, I will instruct you in that particular moment." He grabbed her hair and pulled her head backwards. "Am I understood slave?" As he spoke, he reached down with his other hand and spread her legs apart slapping her directly between them. "Answer me slave!"

Quinn winced as she was struck not only in the face, but also her sex; and the stinging radiated up her torso. It hurt. Badly. As much pain as Quinn could tolerate, this pain was entirely different. It was unwelcome. Yet also a bit confusing; Quinn knew she was here because she was guilty of being submissive...so why would he want her to actually be a slave? What if this was a test? Clenching her jaw, she still kept her eyes trained anywhere but the old man's face; afforded by his grip being just loose enough to turn her head slightly. Instead of verbally answering him, she gathered a gob of saliva in her mouth and with a whip of her head spat in his face. The gob landing just beneath the corner of his mouth. "No."

The Caretaker wiped the spit off of his face with the back of a hand before flinging it back towards her face. "Wrong answer slave." He pushed her backwards out of the guards' grip, wrapping her hair around his hand and clenching it into a fist. "No remorse for your actions, far too much pride. Worthless traits for a slave." He dragged her by her hair over to a thin bench as he spoke, gesturing to the guards to stand in front of the door should she attempt to run. "I can see that you will need strongerpersuasion."

Quinn clawed at the hand embedded in her hair, the tugging on her scalp like needles jammed into her skin, but he didn't relent; nor did her thrashing help her either. "Mmmnot...a...slave!" She snarled, still trying feebly to wedge her thinner fingers in the spaces between his, desperate to get some relief for her scalp. But her fighting stopped as the tender skin of her ass grazed an uneven floorboard, tearing an inch long cut, eliciting a yelp in pain and a blood streak in her wake. She scarcely regarded the bench when they'd stopped, Quinn curled herself into a ball, sucking in a breath to swallow down the pain.

The Caretaker ignored the yelp of pain and dragged her upright before pushing her forward onto the bench making sure her breasts hung down and were easily accessible. "Hold its arms while I buckle it into place." He waited until the guards had moved into position before pulling away and kneeling down to buckle her arms and legs to either side. "We will forgo a gag for the time being. I want to hear you when you break." As he spoke, he straightened upright and ran a finger down her spine letting it trace around her ass before giving it a good hard slap.

Quinn grimaced as she was repositioned, the splintery grain of the bench pressing into her belly and lower rib cage. The cuffs on her ankles and wrists were uncomfortably tight, but the blonde knew any cries of protest would fall on deaf ears. Anything she'd say for the duration of this punishment would. As a calloused fingertip moved down the ridge of her spine, Quinn felt her skin prickle with goosebumps in response--and Quinn felt a wave of nausea at her body's betrayal. This is exactly what he wanted, to whittle her down and dehumanize her, and already he was unraveling her. The sting of the palm to her already bruised ass paled to the pain caused by him referring to her as an 'it'. She wasn't Quinn Fabray anymore, nor was she toy Fabray, she was just an 'it'. A single tear pushed past her eyes as she set her jaw in anticipation for whatever he had planned.

The Caretaker smirked in satisfaction as he circled her. Already she was learning to hold her tongue. "Let us see how much your weak body can take. An hour? Two? Or will you barely last thirty minutes. Little Whore can take any punishment I give it for hours, is it a better slave than you? We shall see." He crossed over to the table against the wall where he had laid out a number of toys and picked up a set of nipple clamps with tiny bells attached before slowly making his way back to her. Once he reached her, he knelt down and started rubbing his thumb overtop her nipples until they hardened. "If I hear these bells at any time I will add an extra ten lashes." As he spoke he firmly clipped one of the clasps into place before mirroring his actions with her other nipple. Finished, he stood up and ran a finger down her spine once more, sliding it between her lips watching her reaction.

Quinn grimaced as the clamps bit down on nipples, simultaneously squeezing and pulling on the aching skin. The weight from the bells dangling. Quinn eyed the little silver implements with anger, he was setting her up for a multitude of lashes. A slight breeze would make these bells sound, let alone a lashing. But that didn't anger her as much as the comparison to the Whore, and his touching upon her inner need to come out on top. To not be second to a slave--but that meant being a better slave. Her body turned completely rigid as he touched her again, hating the way he grazed each bump of her spine, and especially one he touched her cunt. Her eyes locked with his from under heavy lids, and mustering strength in her abdomen, Quinn shifted her torso and swung her breasts, setting the bells to jingle loudly. A challenge.

The Caretaker reached down and stilled the bells, giving a sharp tug on the chains. "It is not wise to test me." He brought his hand down on her ass in a sharp movement, a warning slap. "You have added ten lashes to your punishment." As he spoke, his hand landed on her ass again. "Thank your Master for being gracious enough to only add ten lashes." He grabbed her hair letting his hand fly and land over and over again on her ass. "Disobedient slaves must be punished otherwise it does not learn its place properly." Over and over again he spanked her keeping an eye on the color of her skin. He wanted it to be a nice deep red before he continued on, just enough to make it clear that she was in for a world of pain.

Quinn could handle the first few strikes; one of the benefits of having a high tolerance for pain, but as the successive blows came rapid fire, her skin started to burn. The Caretaker smacked her much harder than any of her lovers had, his large leathery hands practically snagging with each strike. Quinn's eyes screwed shut, as the slaps grew in intensity, so much so that it was becoming too much to bear, and her pride was beginning to whittle away. Her jaws set, and she hissed a quiet yet begrudging, "Thank you."

The Caretaker frowned and continued slapping her ass, each time gaining in intensity. "Thank you what?" He pulled her head further back until he had pulled her as far back as she was able to go in the restraints. "You will address me by my proper title slave. Until you do, we will not move on to the next part of your punishment. This is only a warm up after all. Now. Thank you what?"

Quinn cried out as her neck and spine was bent in an unnatural position; angry tears of frustration flooded her vision. If he'd pull and harder, her hair would rip right from the root. "...THANK YOU, MASTER!" She shouted, unable to withstand her back being pulled in such a way.

The Caretaker let go of her with a final hard smack against her ass. "Good." He moved away and picked up his favorite flogger, running it over her back letting her feel the leather and tiny barbs brush against her skin. "Be as loud as you want slave. The louder your screams, the more you submit to your punishment. Holding them back will only make things worse for you." Without warning he set up a moderate pace against her back, pausing after a few strokes to run his hand down her back.

Quinn growled as he walked off to grab whatever implement of torture he intended to unleash on her next. This was ridiculous. All he was doing was spanking her--nothing she'd never done before--but damn when he did it, it hurt. And she could scarcely stop herself from whimpering as he returned wielding a large, ragged looking flogger. As the lashes started, Quinn's grunts of discomfort slowly gave way to yelps, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she'd be screaming. Her skin burned every time he touched it.

The Caretaker mentally counted each stroke as he laid the flogger across her back, each stroke landing slightly different from the one before. He wanted her crying out in pain, he wanted her to suffer, but not just yet. What he wanted most of all was for it to drag out and for her to feel every inch of his disapproval and a taste of what her future would be like. When he mentally reached twenty five strokes, he set aside the flogger, running his hands up and down her back before giving her a good hard slap to her ass.

Quinn was about to cry. If there was one thing the Caretaker did that burned more than his hits, it was his touches. Those invasive, unwanted grazes to her back and ass. It was unwelcome and made Quinn's skin crawl in its wake; she loved it whenever Tess' fingertips would dance across the expanse of her skin. It didn't matter what act of depravity they engaged in, Tess' touches made Quinn feel as though she were as precious as a diamond. These current touches, only made Quinn feel filthy, and she gave a strangled "PLEASE!" when the Caretaker's palm made contact with her ass again.

The Caretaker chuckled and slid his hand between her legs again in response to her plea. "Please you want more? I can accommodate that. In fact..." he trailed off as he slid two fingers into her cunt moving them in and out quickly. "I think I might let you enjoy yourself a little." As he moved his fingers in and out, he reached down to play with her breasts.

Quinn struggled in her bindings as he fondled her. His leathery, geriatric hands feeling like sandpaper on her soft skin, but her movements garnered her no reprieve. Her cunt was bone dry as he entered her, and his nails raked against her walls, scratching her from the inside, the friction starting to burn. Silently she prayed for her body to just react, the wet offering a perverse form of relief, but at that moment, nothing was responding. Closing her eyes, she desperately tried to conjure any image that would help, but all she saw was the derisive expression on the Caretaker's face.

The Caretaker raised an eyebrow at the lack of response to his movement. "I see. So you aren't trained to get wet upon command. We will have to fix that." He withdrew his hand, giving her ass another heavy smack before going over to one of the machines against the wall. It took him only a moment to select an attachment before he wheeled it back over to her. "Then I won't waste my time trying to make you learn to enjoy this. My machine will do it for me leaving my hands free for so much more fun." He attached a rather large dildo to the end of the machine and lined it up with her cunt before pushing it forward and locking the machine in place with the bench. "Each time you cum without permission, you will be whipped." As he spoke, a smirk crossed his face and he turned the machine on, setting it on a lower speed. He may be forcing it into her dry but she would get wet soon enough. No female could withstand a dick in her cunt for long without instinctively getting wet. It was one of the things they were made for after all and he specialized in making the female slaves crave dick inside of them.

Quinn glanced back at the monstrosity he wheeled toward her; armed like a canon ready to fire at her slit. Her still dry slit, but with little warning, he unceremoniously pushed it inside of her, the large intrusion tugging her walls with each mechanical thrust. It hurt. It hurt so much worse than she'd ever imagined, earning the Caretaker the tears and sobs he was likely wetting himself for. The pain in her cunt was reminiscent of child birth, being torn open without control. All she could do was try to angle her hips from the strange position he had her in, in order for the dildo to strike her sweet spot, and after five agonizing minutes it was starting to work. A familiar warmth was brewing in her gut, and Quinn clenched down tightly around the dildos girth to swallow her impending orgasm. But it was for nought, as her body betrayed her easily, and Quinn's fluid dribbled out in one long sliver down toward the floor.

The Caretaker stood off to the side enjoying the sight. Little did she know that he used the machine and the same dildo on his own whore daily, or he had up until it had defied him for the last time and the thought gave him a surge of intense pleasure. Carefully he unzipped his pants and pulled his dick out, stroking it as he walked around to her head. It was obvious when her orgasm swept over her, and how little self control she had. "I see that's another thing you need to learn slave. You. Do. Not. Cum. Without. Permission." Each word he emphasized with a smack across her ass, machine still moving at its slow speed. Before straightening up, he turned the speed up to medium and grabbed her hair. "Your training and punishment seem to becoming one. Thank your Master for being gracious enough to teach you how to behave and show your gratitude by servicing Him." He pressed the head of his cock against her lips and held waiting for her response.

Quinn whimpered and hung her head in shame as her body rode out the rest of her orgasm, but instantly she was wrenched back upright, eyes met with a veiny flaccid dick swinging in front of her face. "Oh no..." She muttered, staring at his member, and keeping down the rush of bile that threatened to burst from her throat at any given moment. The machine picked up speed and he ran the smooth edge of the head of his cock along the line of her mouth. A conflict overtook her in that instant. She wanted to bite it, sink her teeth into his flesh and use all of her power to close her jaw like a vice. To bite his dick clean off like a hot dog served on the fourth of July. And while she debated her actions, her mouth remained firmly closed.

The Caretaker growled and smacked her cheek hard enough to leave his hand print behind. "Answer me slave! You have thirty seconds to thank me or what you've been through will seem like child's play in comparison, something done to an infant." He held her gaze, glaring at her, daring her to disobey him. She would suck his cock and she would be moaning around it like a whore with a dildo crashing into her cunt even if he had to push her to that point himself.

Quinn grunted as her head was smacked to the side; that was going to bruise. And Quinn had to bite her lip from answering once she recoiled. She was liable to make a snide remark or utter some expletive of some kind; his comment about an infant particularly biting. Again, she remained mute, struggling not to react to the increased thrusts put on by the fucking machine behind her.

The Caretaker stalked away, rummaging in his drawer until he pulled out a spider gag and a paddle. He would make her obey him but it looked like teaching her to like obeying was still a long way off. "This is your own fault slave. I might have merely whipped you and fucked you before letting you go. You have no one to blame but yourself." He knelt down and forced the gag between her lips, pressing on the back of her jaw to force her teeth open just enough to slip the gag inside and quickly buckled it into place. Once finished he stepped back to take in the sight in front of him and grinned, eyes darkening. "Just how a slave should look. Mouth open and waiting, being fucked mercilessly by a machine, just waiting for its' Master's cock." He slid his cock easily into her mouth and set up a brutal pace making sure to hit the back of her throat with each thrust.

Quinn felt her eyes widen to the point where they'd fall right from their sockets as he returned with the spider gag. Shit. Try as she might to keep her jaw firmly closed, all it took was his fingers on her pressure point to pry it open and force the gag inside. Saliva hung from her lower lip as she looked up at him lamely, bracing herself for what was about to happen. His cock rammed inside her mouth, slamming against her uvula. Her gag reflex was fully engaged, and Quinn's throat began to balloon behind her head. Spitroasted like a suckling pig, Quinn's body was betraying her left and right; another climax gripped at her body, arching spine up against her bindings, and to Quinn's utter horror, she couldn't stop herself from vomiting after five agonizing minutes of the Caretaker's cock pistoning in her mouth. Her eyes burned from the intense pressure in her skull as she heaved, the lack of control of her jaw causing her to gag and sputter even more.

The Caretaker instantly pulled out and smacked her across the face when he felt her vomit and bile coat his cock. "You filthy slave! How dare you!" He reached over for his flogger and started bringing it down across her back as fast as his arm could manage. "Filthy worthless slave!" He continued to beat her, turning up the speed for the machine to high, whipping her until she started to bleed from the barbs on the flogger. "You will never do that again." As best he could, he wiped up any vomit that he could see and pushed it back into her mouth, releasing the gag enough for her to close her mouth and pressed her nostrils together. "Swallow."

Quinn was now in utter agony; between the relentless flogging, fucking and now vomiting, her body was rapidly detaching itself from her mind. Nothing was voluntary anymore. The force of the blow across her face, pulled hard at the muscles in her neck as her head whipped to the side, and Quinn's tears finally flowed at full force. He'd reduced her not only to a set of holes, but now a garbage disposal. Pulling the gag from her soiled mouth and quickly replacing it with a palm full of her own vomit, she writhed against his hand. Struggling for air, as well as the ability to swallow, she convulsed beneath his grasp. The taste was acrid and horrific; stomach acid burning the skin of her tongue. Only after a few terse minutes of struggling, she managed to force it down her throat, and she screamed for air against his hand; face reddening each airless second that rolled by.

The Caretaker waited until she swallowed before releasing his hold on her nose. From the tears rolling down her face, it was clear that she was giving in to the punishment. "Better," he appraised walking around her, turning the machine off for a moment. "But there's something missing here. Something important." Quietly he attached a second dildo to the machine and barely lubed it up before lining both dildos with both her holes. "It's not nearly full enough to be a good slave." He turned the machine back on keeping it on a low setting, running his hands over her skin, scraping it with his fingernails. "I've neglected such beautiful skin. That needs to be rectified. And to keep any more unwanted fluids from coming out, a nice gag that fully covers the hole." He held up a rather large penis gag directly in her line of vision.

Quinn 's head hung lamely on her neck and shoulders, barely registering anything the Caretaker was currently saying to her. She could feel her asshole stretching painfully to welcome a dildo in addition to the one in her cunt, and her caked mouth fell open, jaws slack on their hinges to accept the impossibly large penis gag in his hand. Her bloodied and bruised body had all but given up, and her willpower stomped out like a cigarette on dirty ground.

The Caretaker was able to insert the gag into her mouth and buckle it without a fight, telling him clear as day that he had finally stamped the fight out of her. "Now then, let's make you bleed," he whispered in her ear with a dark chuckle. "Welcome to the life of a slave. You will never escape. Now that I've made you my slave, your life as a mistress on my island is over. I might let you pretend, if you scream prettily enough, that I've forgiven you, but soon enough you will be at my feet, eyes as blank as they are now, good for nothing but cocks in each hole or better still, a breeding whore since you've already proven to be fertile. We shall see." He straightened back up, and picked up a cane, testing it for it's springyness. Yes, a cane would do nicely for her lower body and then to finish her off with a whip, that would be the perfect finale. He made his way back over to the wall where one other, newer, machine sat. He hadn't used it on his own slave yet so what better opportunity to test it than on his newest creation? A machine that whipped for you, just the idea made him hard. Carefully he wheeled it over to her and lined it up so the cane hit each time on her ass, away from the other machine that was still going strong, and fitted the cane before turning it on. The first smack was immensely satisfying even if it was weaker than what he would have delivered. Still, it was a good attempt, especially combined with all the other sensations. "I hope you enjoy yourself slave. I know I will."

Quinn was no longer herself; just a body. A hollow shell bereft of everything that made it Quinn Fabray. An angry bruise was already blooming on her battered and swollen face, the skin of her ass was open and raw, the relentless blows dealt to it opening a myriad of welts along its expanse. Now he was going to tear open her back. She couldn’t see what it was that he wheeled behind her, likely parking it next to the fucking machine still angrily splitting her cunt and rectum in half. Everything below her waist was going numb, with the exception of her holes themselves. The friction from the thrusts clawed at her sphincter, a sticky hot wetness dribbling down her perineum: blood. Quinn had been able to take dildos twice this size, even Thessaly’s arm, but with the lack of lubrication, the dildo in her now might as well be made from cinderblock.

But it was his words struck her with a force that shook her very foundation; each and every syllable like a knife thrust inside her skin. Toy was being repurposed into an object. The princess hastily dethroned and turned peasant. Quinn Fabray, Goddess incarnate, turned into a breeder. That word bit at her heart even harder than slave. God how the prospect of ending up pregnant again frightened her—to have his parasitic seed inside of her, contributing to his unending line of bastards.

Desperately she pushed her mind to detach from reality, and she conjured the image of Tess, waiting for her with arms wide open and welcoming; a soliloquy of kind words for Quinn's ears and Quinn's ears only. The bite from the caning did nothing to jar her from the images that comforted her in that moment, as the intense pain overtook her muscular control. But not before the Tess in her mind said three words: I love you, Quinn, and intense climax ignited every nerve ending, pushing an obscene moan of ecstasy from Quinn's ravaged throat. And then there was nothing. Quinn's body went limp. All of the fight thoroughly fucked out of her. He'd broken her.

The Caretaker paused for a moment to enjoy the sight in front of him. Never before had he taken such time to admire his handiwork before he was finished but this time it seemed fitting. He had effectively created a new slave right in front of his eyes and he wasn't finished quite yet. The blank look in her eyes coupled with the sudden, loud moan that clearly said she was riding an intense orgasm only made her look more the part. And yet, somehow it wasn't satisfying enough. There needed to be something...more. The machine was already working her insides and forcing her to the brink of orgasm mixing it with pain, enough pain to make her bleed. The new machine was doing wonders, leaving welts along her ass, slicing open the skin just enough for blood to well up. The longer he looked, the more perfect the image became.

“The defiant little slave finally submits to its Master,” he murmured sliding on a pair of vampire gloves. “You thought I wouldn’t be able to break you and yet, here we are.” He slid his hands along her back, pressing down hard along her shoulder muscles as he talked, letting her feel the prick of the gloves against her skin. “Spread open and fucked and enjoying it. I’ve never seen a slave cum so hard. I think you are perfectly suited to this life. Oh my guards will love to get their hands on you once I release you to the cells. I think a simple chain around your neck with a permanent spreader bar will be your only covering. Enough for the guards to have a little fun with the new cum dumpster.” He slapped her upper back hard before reaching around to grasp her breasts firmly. “Yes, I think that is your new calling. A prize to any guard that knocks you up. Maybe I’ll let him even keep the brat. Or maybe I’ll make you watch it grow up into a slave, my new slave.”

He laughed as yet another orgasm ripped through her body, releasing her breasts and straightened up, picking up the flogger again. “Your life is mine little slave. Your soul is mine. Your body is mine. Your mind is mine. No one can save you now.” A half second later, he started flaying her back as fast as he could watching the welts form and the barbs creating pricks in her skin where they caught. Soon enough, blood started to flow, making her back fairly slippery. Still, he refused to stop. Only when his arms finally tired did he drop the flogger, and pull his cock out of his pants, stroking himself to full hardness before coming across her back.

He backed away and opened his office door, tucking himself back into his pants. “Guards! Remove this filth from my sight. And clean the machines.” He made his way back to the desk, watching as the guards turned off the machine amidst her final orgasm. “Drag it through the courtyard. Make sure to be as loud as possible about it. I want everyone to know how broken it is.” Just as the guards were dragging her out the door, he held up a hand to stop them. “And bring me that brunette slave in the first isolation room. I’ve only just begun to break it.” Once they left, he made his way over to the camera in the corner and turned it off. "Well my new slave, you'll have your freedom for now, but you will always be mine and this video will haunt you until the day you die."

#ppcquinn #m:quinn #p:i do not tolerate weakness #royalfabrajesty #ppcevent0

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