The Colonial Girl

Runt found herself idle in the kitchen. Having served Sir his morning coffee - which he now enjoyed in the distant quiet of the living room - she was left with nothing else to do. He had not used her this morning, nor did he order her to give him head while he enjoyed his morning coffee like he usually did. He had not stopped her when she made to leave after serving him his coffee, so she was left standing uselessly in the quiet kitchen, the polished copper glinting mockingly in the morning light. She had wiped the counter three times, more than enough to start feeling foolish to even consider doing it again for the fourth time.

She could not read his mood this morning. Did not know if he was still crossed with her. But was she not already punished? Or if he was pleased with her. If so, why had he not used her today? A sharp feeling of anxiety tightened her chest as those unsettling thoughts turned over in her mind. Unable to bear the crushing uncertainty any longer, she forced herself out of the kitchen, back to the living room where her owner sat.

She paused momentarily when she saw him in the living room just as she left him earlier: sitting engrossed with the morning paper held wide, and the delicate porcelain coffee cup resting on the table near him. And though she was sure that he had heard her enter, he did not acknowledge her presence. Runt bit her lower lip to swallow her frustration and shame at being so pointedly ignored, and yet, she did not know what to say now that she was in his presence.

She was not going to beg for his attention.

Why would she beg for a man's attention? A white man, at that.

Not even if he is your owner? A traitorous voice whispered in the deepest corner of her mind.

That instantly deflated her and grounded her to reality. Runt fell to her knees at his feet and when he still did not react, she lowered her head until it rested against his knees. She could feel her heart pounding, a part of her afraid that he would push her away and another part ashamed that she was willingly placing her entire self literally at his feet.

Her breath hitched when she heard the sharp, deliberate rustle of the newspaper being folded and then she closed her eyes when he gently stroked her hair. She did not know why that made her feel emotional. She should have hated the casual, possessive and patronizing gesture, a touch that one might give a favoured, loyal pet. And yet, there she was with a lump in her throat, finding comfort in his silent claim of her

Before Sir could utter a single word or Runt could even process the complex shame and relief of his acknowledgment, the shrill, insistent ring of the front doorbell cut through the silence of the room. She looked up at him, puzzled. Was he expecting a guest? She was not informed.

"Go open the door, Runt."

So he was expecting a guest. She felt the anxiety return. She was still naked except for the black leather collar around her dainty neck that marked her as his property. That was how he liked to keep her in his home but now he was asking her to open the door to let someone in. It could be anyone! And she hated the idea of being exposed in front of another.

"But Sirr..." she whined, gesturing to her naked body.

"Go open the door," he repeated his order, voice clipped and hard, leaving no room for argument.

Clearly he did not see what the fuss was with having his colonial girl open the door naked. Were people expecting house pets to be dressed? Or were they embarrassed to see them naked? Of course not.

Runt scrambled immediately to her feet, her face sour as the surge of resentment rushed through her. In mere seconds, she had forgotten the relief and yearning she had felt as she knelt at his feet. It took everything in her to stop herself from stomping away.

Runt opened the heavy front door just as the person behind it was about to press the bell again. When she saw who it was, she could not stop herself from recoiling slightly upon recognizing the visitor: William or just Will to her master and others who knew him well. Old money, obvious from the way he dressed, a respectable consultant by day but a trainer on the side.

Specifically, he trained the new, unbroken colonial girls. Not for money, no. He already had more than enough of that. Being a trainer was a hobby. He claimed that his motivation stemmed from intellectual fascination. But if Runt was asked, she would say it was because the man was a fucking sadist.

He enjoyed toying with the girls, like a cat playing with its food. He wasn't cruel in the obvious way. He could be cruel, sure. But cruelty alone would make him one-dimensional. He was a patient man apparently. The sort who could outlast even the strongest-willed girl until she unravelled into a simpering, pathetic thing, desperate for a scrap of his approval.

Will had a disarming smile. The single dimple on his left cheek and crinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiled made people underestimate what he was capable of. He seemed gentlemanly, refined, even kind. But Runt would never forget the two nights she spent under his training. How he had locked her in the cramped punishment box overnight, ignoring her cries and begging. And how when let out the next morning after lying in her piss the whole night, eyes swollen and throat hoarse from crying, she learnt that obedience, under his tutelage, was inevitable.

Instinctively, before she even realized what she was doing, Runt moved to slam the door on the unwelcome visitor's face but Will was quicker.

His quick reflexes meant he had a foot firmly over the threshold, jamming the heavy wood against the floor. Will's dimpled smile never wavered. He simply leaned into the gap, his eyes, calm and unnerving, meeting hers. Runt's heart jumped.

"I think you were asked to open the door, my dear," he drawled, the words a blend of smooth amusement and veiled threat. He then pushed the door wide open and strode confidently into the hall, watching as Runt trembled before him, slowly registering the error of her action.

Fear paralyzed her; Runt could say nothing to defend herself. She knew she should have fallen to her knees and started begging for his forgiveness but her pride and animosity toward the man held her back.

"It's nice to see you again, Runt. Although it seems that the feeling is not mutual. That hurts my feelings, " Will said with mock sadness, acknowledging the failed rebellion without needing to comment on it.

"After you, Runt," he instructed smoothly, waving a dismissive hand toward the living room, indicating that she should precede him and announce his presence, the very duty she was meant to do in the first place.

Runt, defeated and trembling, had no choice but to turn and lead the way for the man who would no doubt tell on her master.

When they arrived at the living room, it was obvious to her owner that something had transpired between the both of them simply judging from how stiff Runt was standing. The fear and guilty look on her face was a contrast to Will's self-satisfied Cheshire grin. He had known his friend since boarding school, and so he recognized the meaning behind that smile at once.

"What happened?" Sir raised his eyebrow in question.

"Well, I think Runt here was just so overjoyed to see me that she had a slight reflex, and mistakenly tried to close the door on my face," Will said, his voice laced with humour.

Sir's gaze turned to the trembling girl. "Forgive me, Will," his voice was flat and steady when he spoke again, "my colonial girl can be clumsy."

Will and Sir exchanged a look.

"With your permission?" Will asked.

Sir nodded while casually sipping from his cup of coffee.

SLAP

The sound was shockingly loud in the otherwise quiet room. Will delivered a swift, stinging backhand slap across Runt's face. It was a precise, practiced strike, not intended to hurt as much as to inflict shock and public humiliation.

"Now, you may apologize to me, Runt," Will said.

Gone was the charming, playful smile on his face, replaced by the look of measured control that Runt was more familiar with.

The order broke her stupor. She dropped to her knees and quickly lowered her head, finding the toe of Will's polished leather shoe, and pressed her lips fleetingly to the cold, hard surface of his shoe -- the same shoe that had so recently blocked the door.

"Please forgive me, Sir."

Will's face remained impassive, accepting the spontaneous, humiliating gesture as his due. Sir continued silently sipping his coffee, his reaction a deliberate sign of approval that he thought Will's reaction was not only permissible but entirely justified.

Runt remained kneeling, her face burning. She folded her hands tightly in her lap to stop her shaking.

"Good girl. It seems that you haven't forgotten all your training," Will patted her head.

"Bring another cup of coffee for our guest, and a refill for me," Sir ordered Runt, breaking the tension.

Runt scrambled to her feet and fled the living room, glad to be away from the men and the choking display of power. She felt a lump in her throat. It was all too casual for them. They were in control, each other's equal and her merely an owned property, vulnerable to the men's whim and calculated caprice.

When she reappeared in the living room carrying the silver tray with two steaming cups of coffee, she found that Will had taken the seat across the diagonal from Sir. The coffee table sat right in the middle, and the way they were positioned, they both had a clear, direct view of her from the moment she walked in to serve the coffee.

Her grip on the tray tightened when she noticed the 5 inches dildo suctioned firmly onto the coffee table. She kept her head down and avoided any eye contact as she served both men their coffee. They were absorbed in their own affairs, engaged in a conversation that revealed their old acquaintanceship with each other. The lack of acknowledgment suited her just fine but she was conscious of their gazes tracking her every movement. She was extremely careful not to spill a drop. Once she was done, she took a step back and waited for next instruction, her head angled slightly down in a gesture of deference.

The men leisurely drank their coffee, engaging in small talk among themselves. They were comfortable in making her wait and sweat. When Sir spoke again, Runt finally understood the purpose of the dildo.

"Give us something pleasant to look at while we talk business, Runt. Go get on your knees and work on your technique with the dildo. Your mouth doesn't leave that toy unless I say so."

It felt so obscene. Shame prickled up her neck and across her cheeks as she got on her knees and took the silicone length in her mouth, bobbing her head up and down as if she was pleasuring a real cock.

And the whole time, they ignored her. They watched her as they discussed their business but she was not part of the conversation. She was merely used as entertainment, reduced to a lewd display. Gagged in the most humiliating and objectifying way.

She hadn't been at it for too long when Sir's phone buzzed sharply.

"I need to take this," Sir said to Will, promptly stepping out of the living room, leaving Runt alone with his friend.

Will rested his hand on his lap, leaning down slightly so he could meet Runt's frightened gaze from her place on the floor.

"It's really nice to see you again, Runt. Let's play a little game while we talk, shall we?" Will began.

"When I say down, I want you to deepthroat the toy and stay there until I let you up," he tapped the base of the silicone toy to send his message across. "And when I do allow you to let up, I want you to swirl your tongue over the tip, like a slut who can't get enough of dick. Under no circumstances are you to remove your mouth from the toy. Understood?"

Runt's blush deepened. She attempted to nod her head without taking her mouth off the fake cock to show that she understood his order.

"Good. Down, girl," Will said and watched as he was instantly obeyed.

The dildo was not too big that deepthroating it would be impossible, but it was big enough to make it uncomfortable to do so for too long.

"Edward said you've been a bad girl recently. I believe you've been adequately punished for that. I have no doubt of Edward's ability to handle you. That's not what I want to talk about."

Runt was starting to struggle with the toy. She felt like she was running out of breath as she took in his words, her glassy eyes meeting Will's calm gaze.

Just before it became too much, she heard the anticipated order.

"I want to talk about what's good for you. Up."

Pwah!

Runt inhaled sharply as she lifted her head and immediately swirled her tongue all over the tip to demonstrate her obedience. Shame coiled in her chest at the same time as the familiar ache started to develop between her legs.

"You're an intelligent girl, that's what drew him to you in the first place. The problem with intelligence is that it often comes with pride. And pride...is unbecoming in an owned girl," Will said, his voice low and deliberate.

"He did not want me to break you completely when he asked me to train you. Your master is prepared to tolerate more of your personality than most. That's his preference; I respect it," Will shrugged.

"Down," he ordered.

Runt obeyed. Eyes frantically watching Will as he spoke again.

"I admit there's some thrill in bending someone who thinks they can't be bent. But too much resistance can be tiring. In other words, Runt, you should've known your place. You're here to make his life easier; that's why he bought you. And if you're really smart, you'll know that your pride has no place in his presence. Up."

Runt sucked in a long, shuddering breath. Her stomach twisted at his words but Will was not finished. He tilted his head, studying her as she licked the length, and whatever he saw made him speak again.

"You're not convinced that it's in your best interest to be humble and sweet with him...as a colonial girl should be? Desperately trying to please him and gain his approval? There are many ways to break a girl's spirit," he suddenly mused, "one of them is through denial. Oh? You think you wouldn't be affected by that?"

Will laughed and continued, "But my dear, imagine him growing tired of your resistance. He could take another girl who is softer and eager to please him to his bed. And perhaps he'll keep you strictly to household duties."

Even better for me. I don't want him to touch me. Runt thought rebelliously.

And it must have shown on her face because Will laughed again.

"You think you'd like that? Do you really think so? You who have known the touch of a man. Could you imagine never being embraced by a man anymore? No longer desired the way a woman longs to be desired. Imagine serving him his morning coffee and then being dismissed back to the kitchen while another pretty young thing takes the place between his legs. Imagine being reduced to washing the ruined panties of the other girl or the bedsheet soiled from their night's passion while your own needy cunt is forgotten. And the other prized colonial girls, how do you think they would look at you? Not too kindly, I think. They would take great pleasure from being reminded of the difference between them and a lowly, negligible girl. Is that the life that you desire? Down."

Runt could barely breathe and she suspected it was not from deepthroating the dildo as much as from hearing what Will just said. Her heart thumping loud as she absorbed his words.

Will watched her closely.

"You are bright, but self-centred and shallow. You must learn to be grateful and humble."

As if on a whim, he suddenly reached out and pinched her nose shut while she still had the full length down her throat and watched as she struggled, making gurgling sounds like a fish out of water.

"Learn to be pleasing to your master. Understand that your master's attention is your protection," he finished.

Will kept her in the position longer. His face remained impassive even when she started to tear up and gag, one hand inching to bat away his hand blocking her air but halting mid-way, as if suddenly remembering it wasn't her place to freely touch him. She silently begged him with her pitiful eyes.

Runt started to panic; she realized that her humiliating, gurgling pleas for air were simply entertainment for the white man in front of him, and yet, it did not cross her mind to disobey him. Perhaps, a part of her was already tamed, mastered and dominated despite his accusation of her being self-centred and shallow. She knew she could be a good girl. And she would show him! So she stayed where she was, even if her body was engulfed in fear and fighting for air.

In reality, Will did not hold the pinch for long, knowing precisely when to release the pressure to maximize the terror without causing actual injury. Only long enough to drill her helplessness and the lesson home -- that even her most fundamental need is dependent on a man.

"Up," Will finally said.

Runt gasped, a loud, ragged inhalation as soon as the toy slipped free from her mouth with a wet pop. Saliva clung in glossy strands from her lips to the silicone. Her wild tearful eyes instantly met Sir's gaze. The man had just returned from his call and had settled back into his earlier seat. His eyes were watching her red, tear-streaked face.

"I suppose I am a terrible man because I do find her most attractive when she's in tears like this," Sir commented to Will, completely indifferent to Runt's distress.

It was hard to describe how she felt hearing that. Not like she was expecting him to sympathize with her, or maybe she was. After all, one would not stand to watch another human being treated like how she was treated. Except she knew she was subhuman in their eyes. Inferior. And that realization made her cunt throb.

"I assure you, I'm just as bad then," replied Will, "I think it's the eyes; looking at you so pitifully, so needy and helpless. They're so vulnerable, and it makes me want to be crueller to them just to see them brought to their true place, on the floor, at the feet of a white man."

Runt had started swirling her tongue over the silicone dildo again as they spoke, her eyes darting between the two of them. She felt exactly as Will described: vulnerable, needy and helpless. She felt like she was no better than the fake cock she was pleasuring, just another sex toy to them.

And it should not have turned her on.

But her body was on fire with needs and wants.

Before she could stop herself, muffled whimpers escaped around the dildo in her mouth, drawing Sir and Will's attention.

"Uh-oh," Will remarked.

Sir's gaze drilled into her.

And runt had flashes of Will's teasing words. Her heart clenched at the thought of being dismissed, forgotten, and replaced by other girls.

She redoubled her efforts on the fake cock, taking it deeper, her lips and tongue working urgently as she never broke eye contact with Sir. Every suck, every moan, was a silent plea for him. She was pleading for something that she was too ashamed to say out loud. She wanted his touch, his approval; to be used and desired like the needy, vain colonial girl that she was.

"Needy slut," Sir deadpanned, causing his friend to laugh, and her face burned crimson.

Runt broke eye contact, ashamed of herself. She let her gaze fall as the bitter sting of rejection tightened in her chest, and tears welled again, blurring her vision. Her lips and tongue faltered in dejection. She felt like a cheap slut, an unwanted one.

"Aw, is the little colonial slut crying because she doesn't have a real cock in her mouth?" Will teased.

Runt took the bait, swallowed her pride and timidly nodded her head.

Will grinned. Sir looked amused, as well.