The Price of Perfection/Part Four

by Marlissa

It was eleven o'clock and Dominique still had to dust before preparing the Master's mid-day repast. She took the little feather duster and began dusting the top of the parlor mantle, with especial care to dust the photo of her Master and his brother, Dr. Slate. It was one of the Master's favorites from their Oxford days. Dr. Slate was in the South Pacific now, living in a private compound. He called from time to time to speak to the Master to discuss business matters. Together they administered a large fortune. She reached to give the framed photo another swipe with the duster. As she did, she felt a pair of strong hands clasp her tiny waist.

She gasped. "Pleez Sir! I beeg you! My Masteer iz oopstares!"

The words in her ear answered, "Your Master is behind you, my petite Dominique!" A hand roughly pulled up her skirt and spanked the small buns sharply.

Dominique dropped the feather duster and tried to turn around. But the Master held her fast against the mantle. His hands were now yanking down her lace thong panty. She understood what he wanted. The Master often enjoyed sneaking up on her and using her in various positions around the townhouse. Dominique let her hand drop down under her skirt and helped the Master de-panty her, the better that he might rape her.

Her hand snuck between her leg and tried to brush his cock through his trousers. "Masteer!" she breathily moaned. He took her hands and pressed them up into the small of her back with one hand. The other hand unmistakably unzipped his trousers. Dominique heard them drop to the floor. The hard way he was pressing her wrists up was hurting her.

He whispered into her ear. "Is my pretty Dominique performing her chores like a good maid?" he asked harshly.

"Oh yas my Masteer! I a-ham! Dominique swa-ayers she is being a goood girl for her Masteer!" she yelped meekly. He was pushing her wrists up so hard now she wanted to cry. He was kicking her legs apart and his cock was poking between her legs. She nearly toppled in her high heels but regained her balance cat-like.

"Oh no. I think my Dominique is being bad. She is thinking of Candy, I think. Very bad girl!" The Master swatted her bare moons with a thunderous smack of the flat of his broad hand.

Candy Cane-- a vivid ghost of glamour and power. Dominique shook her head, sniffled. "No, my Masteer! No Can-dee! She bad! I goood girl maid, your Dominique!"

"Then you will have to keep showing me what a good maid you are, my slinky slut! You will spend the rest of your life proving to me what an obedient little pleasure maid you are, won't you Dominique?" He swatted her again.

She screeched. "Yes, Masteer! I weeell show you! I weeel be a good maid!" She struggled trying to escape the punishment, but the Master held her tiny wrists tight.

"Show me then, Dominique. Show me, my little pleasure maid!" the Master growled.

Dominique turned her tear-stained face, pressing it against the teak paneled wall of the parlor. "How Masteer? Pleeze tell Dominique!" she pleaded. Anything to make the pain stop!

He chuckled cruelly. "Show me what a pretty French maid is really for. It isn't for cleaning, wench. Tell me what a French maid is kept for! Tell me why I keep you!" He swatted again, sending shock waves up her narrow buns and waist.

"For sex, Masteer! FOR SEX!" Dominique sobbed, her humiliation and degradation complete.

The unseen Master patted her bare derriere "That's right, Dominique. For sex. Which makes you a cheap little whore." Dominique closed her eyes. She could hear the derision in his voice, how little he considered her feelings. He unclenched her wrists. "Now show me what a shameless little whore you are. Bend over for your master, bitch."

She obeyed, keeping her eyes closed lest she begin crying again. With all the strength she had left, Dominique spread her legs, flipped up her maid's skirt and offered up her ripe ass for her master's use. She buried her head in her small bosom as she felt the man stroke his cock against her soft thighs. He entered her dry and she began to buck in pain. The Master held his filly tightly as he felt his cockhead pop through the tight sphincter of his dainty French prize.

The dry penetration would have been painful in any case, but there was something which made it all the more so. Dominique often wondered why she remained so tight for Master, though he used her roughly and often, sometimes three and four times a day. Unbeknownst to the enslaved shemale maid, her Master had had the Good Doctor Slate fit her sphincter with a special "O" ring made of the most taut man-made material available, a rubberized cement developed for the Space Program. It jealously guarded Dominique's pleasure hole from ever widening, giving her rectum an airtight resistance to penetration. And by surgically interlacing her nerve-endings with the "O" ring, the good Doctor ensured Dominique would feel each and every assault made on her tender portal. Agony and ecstasy would be his fate with each rape. It was why she so dreaded being used by the Master this way. And why it was the Master's pleasure to do so.

Dominique whined as she felt the familiar invader occupy her most private place, forcing its pleasure out of her at will. She twisted this way, then that as the Master rammed one way, then another-- a marionette doll on strings. She tried to stay bent-- it was more comfortable-- but the Master clutched her tiny breasts through her blouse, mauling the defenseless globes and pinching her too-sensitive nipples through her bra. As he drew her onto his lap, she felt the cock bore a hole through her very soul. For the thousandth time, Dominique felt as if she existed only for this use-- to be gored and filled by this cruel man, this Master who possessed her.

She let the thought blow away quickly because she could feel him building within her. He was approaching a massive, volcanic cum-- which meant she must soon after begin her own "orgasm." The blinding white lighting of the explosion rocked within her, sending tremors through every nerve of her being. For a split instance, her hole felt as if it might snap like a broken rubber band against the pressure of the cudgel inside her. Tears flowed freely down her face, tears she always pretended to be from the joy of Master's passion, but was actually the indescribable pain of a vessel overflowing with misery and the complete abasement of a human being. He grunted and she began moaning.

"Oh, zat ess sooo good, Masteer! Puuut eet eensiide meeee! I feeeel like a whore! I am a beetch for you!" she exclaimed, as convincingly as she might. Putting her hole being into it. "I looove you Masteer! I am a slut for you--- only you!" And with that, she gasped and swallowed deeply. His cock popped out of her loudly. Quiet at last, she feel back against him, a sated kitten filled with Master's milk.

The Master grunted again and dropped his hands from her aching breasts. They fell into Dominique's lap and began tugging at the finely wired chastity belt that had imprisoned her male member for such a long, long time. The prisoner was overheated and strained futiley against the mesh prison. Pressure on Dominique's prostate such as rape always urged the little rebel on, but to no affect. It thrummed inside the hot metal cup, scraping against it without hope. The chastity belt would never be removed.

"Was the price for keeping it worth it?" the Master demanded slyly.

Dominique bowed her head. "No, Masteer," she answered sincerely, sadly. Once it had provided so much pleasure. But that was long ago. Now she hated it. It only increased her pain and shame.

He pushed her off his lap roughly, leaving the room. He looked at her once in disgust as she fingered her dainty hole. It was all red and throbbed maddeningly. Sometimes it took hours for the pain to abate. Dominique let her red nail caress the damaged hole, sniffling.

"Get your uniform on at once, Dominique! You must finish dusting and prepare my lunch!" he reminded her peremptorily. She blinked away her tears, scrambled for her panties and kept her head bowed as she answered.

"Yes, Masteer! Yes, Masteer!"

EPILOGUE

Later that day, the mail arrived. Dominique picked up the stack of envelopes and neatly arranged it. As she sorted mindlessly through the mail, Dominique passed over several pieces labeled in English-- a language she could not read. He was very specific about this mail. These she must open and put aside on the Master's desk, which being the dutiful maid she was, Dominique did immediately. The stack seemed to be endless. She opened envelope after envelope, stacking the rectangular papers for the Master to see:

Ford Motors Corporation, dividend in the amount of $47,621.05, To: Mr. Charles Dane
IBM Corp, , dividend in the amount of $72,112.98, To: Mr. Charles Dane
Shell Oil Company, dividend in the amount of $28,992.32, To: Mr. Charles Dane
Intel Corp., dividend in the amount of $101,564.50, To: Mr. Charles Dane
Telefonos de Mexicos, dividend in the amount of $17,731.11, To: Mr. Charles Dane
Hewlett-Packard Corp., dividend in the amount of $92,477.84, To: Mr. Charles Dane
Time Warner Company, dividend in the amount of $7,503.19, To: Mr. Charles Dane
3M Corporation, dividend in the amount of $36,672.01, To: Mr. Charles Dane

...and the stack seemed endless. The boring mail came in all the time like this. Without another look, Dominique pranced in to deliver the Master's mail to him, who took it happily. He even patted her ass as he ordered her out of the den.

"Back to your chores, my Dominique-- or your master will give his French dolly a spanking!"

Dominique minced out of the den, teasingly flipping her tight, shapely butt for the Master's amusement. Then she returned to the good mail which was left.

It did come through the slot of the locked front door every so often. It was like a reminder that there was a world beyond the door and the dark, terrible world of the Master, a world of light and joy. It was never meant for the Master. She knew instinctively the Master would have no desire to receive this mail, that he had thrown it away before. So what harm was she doing by looking at it before throwing it away? She would like to have kept it, but she wasn't permitted to have ANYTHING, other than the same black and white maid's uniform and her black lace panty and brassiere.

With desperate despair she flipped through the one today, a big thing filled with pretty pictures of beautiful women. Glossy and brimming with fantasy for Dominique, she turned the pages of the catalog from a place called "VICTORIA'S SECRET." Tears ran down the perfectly composed face of the sad French pleasure maid, tears more bitter than any that came from the Master's rapings.

"Dominique!" the Master yelled for her from the den. "Come pleasure your Master!"

Dominique sighed. The diminutive shemale slave rose to attend her owner. She wiped the stray tears away and felt the ache as she tossed the pages containing all beautiful smiling girls posing in their colorful, pretty undies away. In her world, there was no color, just the black and white domino world of pain and pleasure-- her pain and the Master's pleasure-- worlds without end. It was the price she paid for survival-- the price of the perfection for the Master's pleasure.

THE END