Part 5 - Obedience
Bonus kinks: Japanese rope bondage, submission, obedience, master/slave play, oral sex, whipping, consent dubiously obtained
The address was a former warehouse converted into luxury apartments. Sylar had given her the access code for the main entrance so Claire made her way up to the top floor and found the door to #8. She discreetly pulled her panties off under her dress and put them in her bag. She scratched her mound through her dress; the short trimmed pubic hair felt like bristles and the reminder of her humiliation made bile rise to her mouth.
So far in their "relationship", Claire had done a good job forgetting about Sylar when she was away from him; compartmentalizing had become a specialty of hers over the past few years. But that had changed after last night. Claire hadn't slept after crawling into her father's borrowed bed at dawn. She had spent most of the morning formulating plans for her revenge, frustrated by her complete powerlessness and humiliated by the extent of Sylar's violation.
He hadn't just raped her while she was unconscious; he had cut her pubic hair and smeared his come on her breasts and belly, then dumped her half-dressed on her father's doorstep. The picture message he had sent her the previous night said 'Her master's slave'; Claire got the message. Sylar was perhaps unable to kill, but he was still a dangerous man.
"Don't think about that," Claire told herself. "I am strong. I can do this."
She pulled her phone out of her bag to check the time. Sylar had instructed her to walk the five blocks to his apartment, so she had given herself plenty of time and was nearly twenty minutes early. Maybe she should go for a walk and come back. No, that would just delay the inevitable.
Claire wiped the sweat off her face, redid her ponytail and rang the doorbell. A couple of minutes passed before Sylar opened the door. Claire could tell that he wasn't ready; although he was dressed in a wifebeater and sweatpants, Sylar's short hair was wet and mussed, and his feet were bare. Had he been anyone else on any other day, Claire might have found the look of unguarded surprise on his even features rather sweet.
But remembering what he had done to her the previous night, Claire lowered her eyes and steeled herself for a difficult encounter. The rage was building up again and she knew that she would punch him if she looked up.
"You're early," he said.
Claire wondered if she was supposed to call him 'Master' as she had done when they played with the champagne. Except for the pain when he took her virginity, that had been kind of fun. Maybe playing along would make today like that.
"Stay there," said Sylar abruptly.
He closed the door in her face. Asshole. Claire resisted the temptation to bang on the door or turn tail and leave. Instead, she took a deep breath and stood by the door until he came back.
When he returned after several minutes, Sylar stepped aside to let Claire in and kissed her gently on the lips. Then he ruined it by squeezing her breast. The unexpected touch made Claire jump, her heart racing.
"I'm nearly done," said Sylar. "Get ready and wait for me in that corner."
He indicated a kind of alcove where the elevator shaft outside cut into the surface of the condo. There was nothing there except a couple of sturdy looking hooks that had been recently installed; Claire could still see a little pile of dust on the floor.
Sylar disappeared into the bathroom, a separate room built in the middle of the left wall. There didn't seem to be any door, but Claire wasn't interested in Sylar's bathroom habits anyway; she went into her allotted corner and stripped rapidly. She fastened her restraints, chaining her hands behind her back as he had instructed the previous weekend, and kneeled down on the bare wooden floor, thighs parted, waiting for Sylar to return. Her master's slave, ha.
With nothing else to do, Claire looked around. The converted loft was essentially an open plan rectangle. Aside from the bathroom block, the only divisions in the space were a long breakfast bar separating the kitchen from the rest of the room and a raised area housing the built-in four poster bed and closets. Thick concrete pillars dotted the living area, supporting the high ceiling. The only free-standing furniture was an old easy chair with wooden arms; Sylar had clearly only just moved in.
In the absence of any table, he was using the breakfast bar opposite her as a desk; Claire could see a couple of map books, a laptop and a wooden abacus. She guessed from the smell that Sylar had been baking cookies; the concept was incongruous given the circumstances.
The toilet flushed and Sylar came out shortly afterwards. Claire hoped that he had washed his hands and his dick. She wondered if he would let her shower too; she felt hot and sticky after her walk in the muggy air outside.
"Wow. You look incredibly hot like that," said Sylar with admiration. The abacus on the breakfast bar clicked as three beads on the top row moved to the left side.
Claire kept her eyes lowered as Sylar stopped in front of her, his bare feet a couple of inches from her knees. He flicked his fingers and she shot back a foot, her arms rising straight behind her until the chain was looped over one of the hooks. The position put awkward pressure on her shoulders. Biting back several expletives, Claire forced herself to focus on the hand that had placed her there. The long dark hairs on Sylar's arms stopped shortly above the wrist, leaving his hands looking strangely bare. His fingernails were bitten short.
"Why are you angry, Claire?" he asked. "Is it about last night? Because if so, I don't see why; you agreed to have sex with me."
Claire wondered if she could aim well enough to head butt him in the balls from where she was kneeling; not that it would achieve anything given her situation. Fortunately, he wasn't reading her mind.
"Yes, but I thought you'd do it while I was conscious," said Claire. She forced herself to speak calmly though she was raging inside. "Waking up like that… all covered in-- with no idea what had happened… And then having to talk to my Dad while I was still dirty. It was awful."
"Yeah, I know the feeling," said Sylar thoughtfully. He shrugged. "You didn't wake up and I figured you needed to sleep, so I took you home. I'll make sure you have time to clean up in future if that bothers you."
"Thanks. Just… could you do make sure I'm awake before you do stuff to me?" asked Claire, keeping her tone respectful. "I mean, I'm cooperating, right?"
Sylar looked puzzled, but nodded. "Okay, if it bothers you that much. I won't have sex with you while you're sedated," he said as if he was doing her a big favor. "It wasn't that great anyway."
"Thanks." The concession made Claire feel better; she gave him a polite smile and switched to another topic that made her genuinely pleased. "And thanks for dealing with that rapist yesterday. They say he might never get out."
"That's actually why I took you last night," said Sylar enthusiastically. "I wanted to celebrate by trying out a new fantasy. You know, Claire, I think you're right." He started to pace. "Now that I'm the most powerful man on Earth, I should put my powers to good use. Last year, I wanted to become president so I could make a difference, but fighting crime on an individual basis is even better. You tell me who the problem is and I'll fix it for you."
Claire smiled at the thought of everything Sylar could achieve under her direction. "With all the powers you have, you can do anything you want," she said. "You can save people, bring criminals to justice, solve crimes..."
"Yes," said Sylar with delight. "That's it. And all you have to do is be grateful. It's a win-win situation."
Claire wasn't entirely sure that it was worth the degradation he was putting her through, but she could cooperate with Sylar's sick games if mankind was going to benefit. It wasn't as if fighting him would produce better results.
"We'll choose our next victim later. But first, let's get back to the fun," said Sylar, now pacing with an undeniable jaunt in his step. "Let's see how much you remember about the rules of our game. Kneel up." Unsure about this command, Claire risked a puzzled look at him. "Stay kneeling, but lift your ass," he explained.
She did as instructed, lifting her hips until her thighs and body were in a straight line. The tension in her shoulders eased a little. Sylar nudged her knee with his foot, making her legs spread wider. The position opened her pussy and Claire remembered the gross photograph on her phone; her lying unconscious on a bed with her legs tied open, her puffy red sex spread wide and glistening with blood and come. She clenched her teeth and stared resolutely ahead, telling herself that she was doing this for the sake of humanity.
Sylar reached down to play with one of her nipples, gently rolling it between his fingers and teasing the tip. Claire tried to ignore the shot of pleasure that coursed through her. He had to be using a power; it was the only logical explanation.
"Now tell me the rules of the game," he ordered.
"I, um…" Claire closed her eyes, embarrassed at having to put his gross rules into words. "I'm your sex slave. I have to obey you and do stuff you like. If I'm good, I get bonus points. If I disobey or do something you don't like, I get malus points. If I get three malus points, you punish me?"
"Yes." Sylar held out his hand; she stared at the object he called over with horror. "If you get three malus points today, I will punish you with this. A little pill and this could really hurt. Now stay still."
Claire shuddered as he slid the riding crop downwards and stroked her with the soft leather tip. She stared at the far wall, controlling her reactions as little pangs of pleasure started to build up between her legs. She knew she was getting wet and hoped it wasn't possible for her to actually start dripping. It was hard to stay still.
"Five strikes per malus point," said Sylar, still teasing her nipple at the same time. "I'll decide when you actually get punished. What are the rules for your bonus points?"
Claire swallowed. "I have to be naked under my clothes. I have to get undressed when you say so. I, um, I have to kneel and be tied up. And keep my legs open. And obey you and let you do anything you like to me. And I get extra points if I do something you like without you asking for it."
"Yes," breathed Sylar. She wasn't surprised to see a hard bulge in his sweatpants. "You're a quick learner, well done. If you get ten points, you can ask me for something related to the game." He pushed the riding crop further between her legs. "Hmm, you're getting wet. Do you like being my slave, Claire?"
The crassness of the question added to the unfair rules of the game made Claire's anger flare up again, but she bit back a retort to give the reply she thought he wanted. "Yes… master, I like being your slave?"
The abacus clicked and Claire jumped in surprise as he smacked her sex hard with the crop. In the absence of pain, her body interpreted the touch as pleasure and her erogenous zones tingled with excitement. She looked up at Sylar in surprise.
"Never lie to me, Claire," he said with an ominous scowl. "I don't like being played."
She blinked. "Shit, Sylar, I thought you wanted me to play along!"
Sylar glared and smacked her with the riding crop again. Despite her arms tied horizontally behind her, Claire sat back on her heels to put some distance between her sex and the riding crop. The abacus clicked; she guessed that he was less angry about the actual lie than the fact that she genuinely didn't enjoy being treated like a slave.
"Kneel up!" Sylar smacked her thigh with the crop. The blow was hard enough to leave a red mark that faded immediately. "You don't lie, you don't swear. And I told you to stay still!"
"I thought you were only going to punish me if I got three points!" she exclaimed.
"Now you do have three points," growled Sylar. The abacus clicked again. "But I'll punish you later. There's a game I want to play first and I will be very angry if you spoil this for me. Stand up and lift your arms."
He released her hands and Claire got to her feet, struggling not to trip over her chained ankles. She was seething, her earlier mood of cooperation obliterated by the injustice of Sylar's punishment. How could she play the game if it was rigged?
Standing with her hands on her head, her face still only reached Sylar's hairy chest. He put the riding crop down and called a coil of rope into his hands. Claire recognized it as the red rope she had seen on the picture; the one he had used to tie her while she was unconscious. She wondered if he would keep his promise only to have sex with her while she was awake in future.
Sylar looped it once around her neck and tied a series of evenly spaced knots down her front, starting just below her collar bone and ending at her crotch. He moved to Claire's back and pulled the rope loosely between her legs, several inches below her sex. It felt as though he was tying more knots at the back before he fastened the rope to the loop around her neck.
"This is shibari. Japanese rope bondage," explained Sylar as he worked. "The pattern I'm using is called karada. It'll be like a net around your body. A kind of rope dress. It looked really sexy on the Internet. Hmm. That's not right." Sylar undid something and tried again. "That's better. I should get myself a tailor's dummy so I can practice."
Claire thought he should just get himself a blowup doll for all the participation he demanded of her. He came back to her front, drawing one end of the rope under her arm and through the gap between the two topmost knots. He twisted the rope over and under itself before pulling it tight. When he repeated the same procedure with the other end of the rope, Claire looked down and could just make out the red rope stretched into a diamond shape on her upper chest. Weirdo.
Sylar continued to work, his dark features entirely focused on the task of wrapping the rope around Claire's body. As he stretched each gap in the front rope, the loop between her legs moved up until it was rubbing against her crotch. Sylar finished off with a knot on the front; there were still a few feet of rope left, which he left trailing on the floor.
"What do you think?" he asked, his good mood apparently restored. "I like it."
Her hands still resting on her head, Claire looked down at herself. "I can't really see."
"There's a mirror in the bedroom. Come with me."
He took the loose end of the rope and headed for the raised area at the back of the loft. Claire assumed that she was allowed to lower her arms. She followed Sylar as best she could, pulled along by the rope he used as a leash but hampered by the chain between her ankles. The rope rubbed and tickled her skin as she walked, massaging her already stimulated sex.
Sylar levitated her over the three steps leading up to the bedroom area. There was a large wall to wall mirror in the corner by the bathroom block. Claire stared at herself with curiosity. Her body was crisscrossed with ropes, forming three diamonds down her front, with a double width of rope disappearing past her neatly trimmed pubic area. She looked as if she was wearing a large fishing net.
"You look beautiful," said Sylar breathlessly.
Their eyes met in the mirror. Sylar looked flushed and strangely casual in his simple clothes; he gave her that weird sheepish smile she'd seen before, the one he got when he was really pleased about something.
Claire looked at herself again; yes, she did look good. Not because of the weird bondage, but because she was a pretty girl with a good body. She half smiled at Sylar, her anger abating with the hope that she could use her appeal to make the game work in her favor. After all, here she was posing like a mannequin in a macramé swimsuit and he was already panting like a dog in heat.
Sylar moved behind her, still holding the rope attached to her waist. Claire watched his large hands cup her breasts, his blunt fingers tweaking the nipples and sending renewed spikes of pleasure through her body. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair; she doubted it was pleasant given her sweaty walk to get here, but she was beginning to think there was nothing that didn't turn Sylar on. He'd probably get hard even if she pissed on him.
"Oh, you're gorgeous," he murmured, kissing her hair and the side of her face.
Claire watched Sylar's full lips brush against her cheek. The bulbous tip of his nose flattened against her jaw when he kissed her just beneath the ear. His lips moved down her neck to her shoulder, and the loop between her legs tightened as his fingers slid underneath to massage her folds. Claire exhaled slowly, letting the pleasure course through her. What had Luke said -- You might as well enjoy the ride?
"Hmm. Gorgeous and kinky too," said Sylar with a chuckle. "You're really wet. You don't like being my slave, but you like some of this, right?"
Claire looked into Sylar's brown eyes in the mirror. His fingers between her legs stilled as he waited for her response, looking surprisingly vulnerable despite his control of the situation. Claire swallowed her pride and decided that now wasn't the time to lie.
"Yes, master," she said quietly, lowering her eyes demurely. "I do like some of this."
A happy smile spread on Sylar's long face when he realized she was telling the truth. "We'll discuss which parts you like best later," he said, starting to finger her again. "I have some fantasies I want to try out, but we can do yours too if you like. I guess it's destiny." He kissed her ear. "We have a connection, Claire."
Sure. You like raping me and I can't fight you. Must be destiny, she thought sarcastically. His talk about destiny worried her; she'd really thought he was over all that spending eternity together crap. But if he was intending to do this forever, she was going to have to kill him.
Claire groaned as Sylar rammed his fingers inside her as far as they would go, scissoring and curling them to poke every inch of her insides. He had to be using a power again; there was no way something that gross could be so exciting. His other hand still had a hold of the rope ends. She half wished she could kill him right now.
"If you want to come, just ask me politely," he murmured, his breath tickling her ear. "Or we can both wait until the game is finished."
Claire assumed that he wanted her to wait; besides, she did have some pride left. "I can wait, master," she said.
Sylar gave her a quick peck on the cheek and pulled his hand out of her crotch. Claire's sex throbbed with excitement as the thin rope returned to rub it. She wondered if there was anything she could think about to control her own arousal. Hiro Nakamura eating waffles or something. She wondered if Hiro knew anything about robe bondage.
"Good, let's get back to the game," said Sylar, straightening up. He wiped his wet hand on his sweatpants, leaving a shiny smear. "You're very good at distracting me from my goals, Claire, but I've decided to be more strict in future. Today's game is a test of obedience. As my slave, you must learn to do as I say, even if you don't want to or it makes no sense."
Since he paused at that point, Claire shot him a worried look and said, "Um, yes, master."
"Good. I've baked some cookies." Sylar fastened the chain between her wrists again. He let go of her rope leash. "Go to the kitchen, put the cookies on a tray and bring them to me with a large glass of milk."
Claire blinked at the weirdness of the request. Seriously, she was going to serve him cookies and milk? That was his fantasy?
Deciding not to think about it too much, Claire headed for the kitchen before the asshole had time to click the abacus. She tucked the ends of the rope into the loop around her waist so she didn't trip over it; it was bad enough that she had to hobble to the kitchen. She found that the only way to walk without shuffling her feet was to roll her hips. Yeah, she bet Sylar liked that.
Claire looked around the kitchen for a serving tray. The cupboards were mostly empty; she recognized some cups and plates from his father's house, as well as the breakfast cereal he had eaten there. After arranging the warm cookies on the plate, she hobbled over to the refrigerator. The chains on her limbs clinked and the rope harness rubbed against her skin and private parts, making the most mundane movement feel odd. She caught sight of Sylar out of the corner of her eye; he was leaning on the breakfast bar, watching her. The realization made her gut twist in instinctive shame, and her Judas pussy throb with excitement.
The refrigerator was a testimonial to Sylar's single life; half a takeout pizza, pots of fruit corner yoghurts, some eggs, a loaf of bread, a couple of cans of soda and a small bottle of milk. Thinking about him eating his takeout pizza and biting his nails all alone in this big unfurnished loft almost made Claire feel better about the situation. Poor woobie Sylar, unable to kill and picking on a defenseless girl to feel powerful again. Her mouth twitched in disgust as she thought about the unfair punishment and the obscene picture on her phone.
Sylar was sitting in the armchair when Claire left the kitchen area with the tray. She couldn't spread her chained hands wide enough to carry the tray normally, so she had to balance it carefully, leaning it beneath her breasts and using her forearms like a forklift truck. Combined with her hobbled ankles, this made the journey from the kitchen to the chair fraught with difficulty. She kept an eye on the glass of milk the whole time.
"Well done," said Sylar, looking up at her with a smirk when she stood before him. "I'll call it one point for completing the task and one for spilling nothing. Now kneel so I can eat."
She had to hand it to him; this was some sadistic test. Claire had to use all the strength in her leg muscles to lower her body to the ground without falling over. Regeneration or not, she was out of practice and nearly tipped the tray as one leg went down faster than the other. Sylar observed every movement eagerly; she wondered if he wanted her to fail. He seemed pleased when she didn't.
"That's great," he said. "Thank you."
Claire smiled politely. Did masters thank their slaves? She vaguely remembered playing a game based on 'The King And I' as a child, with Jackie as the king and Claire as a slave girl. Jackie's interpretation of slavery was that slaves only ever crawled and had to be used as footstools. Sylar evidently shared Jackie's ideas; she hoped he wouldn't make her crawl again.
Claire gritted her teeth at the thought that her friend's murderer was sitting before her, blithely eating cookies and reading his novel. Just in case her rage got the better of her, she tried to dismiss the thought and focused on the book he was reading instead. It wasn't the same as the one he had been reading the previous week. The blurb on the back cover said it was about a clockmaker who had solved the problem of determining longitude at sea. Claire's lips quirked involuntarily; she had a feeling that Sylar didn't want people to know he had once been a "guilt-stricken watchmaker" as her father had put it, but he wasn't exactly hiding it well.
Sylar looked up from his book after a few minutes.
"Would you like a cookie, Claire?" he asked, looking her over with amusement.
Claire thought he might take offence if she refused, though she didn't see how she could have a cookie while both hands were occupied with holding the tray. Sylar picked one up and held it to her lips. Oh. It hadn't occurred to her that he would simply feed her like an animal.
The plain cookie was slightly underdone, but Claire would have eaten it even if it had been inedible. She hoped it wasn't laced with ability-suppressant pills. For all her yearning for normal pain over the last few years, she was not looking forward to her 'punishment' with the riding crop. But Sylar had been eating the cookies himself, so it was unlikely that he had drugged them.
Sylar helped her to some milk. She hoped the game would end soon because regeneration or not, her arms were getting tired. He finished off the last cookie, licking the crumbs out of the corners of his mouth. He stood up and pushed the chair back a few feet.
"You must be getting tired," he said, "but I need to test something. If you perform well, I'll give you more bonus points. You can use them to buy back a malus point if you like. Stand."
Okay, good incentive to perform well. Claire stood, very careful not to knock the glass over, and waited for instructions. Sylar called the riding crop to his hand; she tried not to look alarmed.
"I guess I don't need to tell you not to drop the tray," said Sylar, walking out of sight behind her.
"Oh!" exclaimed Claire as he whipped her ass.
It didn't hurt, of course, but she could feel the blow shaking the muscles and small quantity of fat in her buttocks. It felt kind of pleasant. Sylar struck her several more times, each time hard enough to jolt her whole body and make her struggle to keep the tray balanced. He also whipped her sides, which was far worse, making her flinch as the riding crop tickled her. The tray vacillated but she managed to get it back. Given how hampered she was by the restraints on her wrists and ankles, Claire would have been quite proud of herself, except that this was a stupid fucking test.
She held out for six more blows before the tray slid off her hands. Unable to balance without spreading her legs, Claire fell with it, landing on her knees at Sylar's feet. She couldn't hear the abacus over the clatter of the fall, but she presumed she'd earned another malus point. The glass didn't break but spilled its remaining contents on the hardwood floor. Claire panicked, thinking that she would get an extra malus point if she didn't clean it up, but before she could ask for a cloth, the milk rose off the floor as one blob and poured back into the glass.
"Better than fetching a cloth," said Sylar proudly. He obviously wanted her to congratulate him.
"Yes, that's very impressive," agreed Claire sincerely.
"Now. Bonus points for making it up to me," he said with delight.
Right. Make it up to him in some kind of slave way. Claire glanced at his bare feet; yeah, that would make him feel powerful and un-woobie-like. She kissed a patch of hairless soft white skin on the side of his foot. Sylar's sharp intake of breath was audible in the silent room. Bingo.
"Sorry, master," she said, keeping her head bowed low. The words made her feel sick. "Please forgive me for dropping the tray."
Sylar didn't move or say anything, so Claire kissed his other foot, deriving some amusement from his loud breathing. Thinking about how ticklish her own feet were, she thought having them kissed was probably quite pleasant. His feet were clean and well-groomed; aside from the ignominy of having to do this at all, she could do this any time he liked if it meant earning bonus point.
After a long pause, Sylar seemed to remember that he was meant to be directing this game. He moved away to sit on the chair and spread his knees a little.
"Why don't you show me how sorry you are?"
Because I'm not fucking sorry?. Heaving a discreet sigh, Claire crawled to the chair, kneeling between Sylar's legs. It was pretty obvious what he wanted. She thought about his trip to the bathroom as she pulled down the elastic band on his sweatpants.
Sylar was wearing no underwear. His genitals were lying in an ungainly heap on his reclined hips, bulging reddish flesh and wiry dark hairs. His shaft was half hard, the flushed tip just protruding from its sheath of thick beige skin like an overcooked frankfurter. Claire looked at the prominent blue veins along the side and the fine hairs growing up the base like some kind of freaky cactus. She really didn't want to put that thing in her mouth. Sylar laughed shortly.
"God, you should see the look on your face," he said. "Claire, it's not that bad. You did this before."
Claire looked up at him. He looked embarrassed, ashamed at her disgusted reaction to his private parts and she almost felt sorry for him. He probably got a lot of pleasure from this hideous organ and it had to be demoralizing to realize that it filled his sexual partner with disgust. But that was tough shit. Elle had probably thought it looked okay; if Sylar wanted admiration, he should have chosen someone who actually liked him.
"Sorry. I'm just not used to this yet," said Claire, forcing a reassuring smile to avoid making things worse.
Sylar still looked annoyed so Claire quickly worked saliva into her mouth and grabbed the shaft. It was almost soft, a squishy beanie bag of a thing. Clearly, her attitude to the blowjob wasn't a turn on for him. But she needed to show him she was an obedient slave if she wanted to stay out of trouble.
Claire squeezed his penis tight; Sylar whimpered but said nothing. His penis hardened and she put it in her mouth. She was pleased to find that he had given it a good clean, because it tasted of nothing more than a faint trace of sweat. As she had done the previous time, Claire used her hand to rub him at the same time, hoping to reduce the time she had to do this. Even so, it took ages.
Some things like licking the tip made the entire shaft pulse in her hand, but that was tiring, so she alternated it with some sucking. She remembered her friend Sophie somehow getting her boyfriend's entire penis into her mouth and wondered how that worked, and more importantly, whether it would get Sylar off faster. Claire experimentally tried to get more in, but it made her gag so she went back to licking and sucking. He definitely liked her licking the tip, so she pulled her mouth off him and just did that for a while.
Sylar gripped the arms of the chair, his thighs tense beneath the thin material of his sweatpants and his hairy chest sweaty above the wifebeater. Except for his reclining position, he looked as if he had been running. She looked up at his face, her hand still wrapped around his penis and her mouth on the tip. Sylar was panting, his lips parted and his brown eyes wide as if he had never seen anything as amazing as Claire blowing him. Damn; he was going to want her to do this again.
Claire let his penis slip out of her mouth; there was a little depression in the smooth red skin at the tip and she slid her tongue across it, flicking rapidly as she did when she went down on Gretchen. God, she missed Gretchen. Sylar's mouth and eyes widened, and he let out a very unmanly little whimper.
"Oh, oh, God."
He didn't come yet, but he was getting close. Enjoying his lack of control, Claire continued to lick, keeping eye contact so he knew that he was at her mercy. Even though he had forced her, she had the most sensitive parts of his anatomy in her hands. She remembered the first time she had done this; she had ended up with his stuff all over her face and chest. She wondered if it would be less gross to actually swallow it. The thought made her feel sick; she decided that if he gave her a choice, she'd go for come on her face again. Given the state he'd left her in the previous day, he'd probably prefer that too.
"Keep your mouth open," he ordered in a strangled voice.
Shit. Fucking asshole. She obediently opened her mouth and shut her eyes when he finally came with a loud moan. Ugh.
Double ugh. Claire tried not to gag, puke or punch Sylar in the balls. She just stayed as she was, kneeling naked at his feet with her eyes closed and mouth half open, trying to pretend that none of this was happening; pretending it was a dream that she wasn't responsible for, like the ones where she had sex with Peter. Or indeed the ones where she had sex with Sylar.
Claire opened her mouth and stuck her tongue out. She didn't even want to think what she looked like; so much for the illusion of control. Sylar stroked her cheek.
"I must admit, Claire, I never imagined that you would be so very obedient. You're amazing."
That's because I'm not fucking stupid, she thought, opening her eyes. Sylar handed her the half empty glass of milk. Claire resisted the urge to splash it onto his face, and simply drank a large swig and swallowed. It tasted normal, with no sign of its brief spill on the floor.
"Luke enjoys doing that, you know," said Sylar casually. "You'll get used to it."
Somehow, the fact that Luke, his gay psycho sidekick, enjoyed giving head wasn't a help. The fact that Claire's friend Sophie seemed to enjoy it was far more relevant. She was a very normal girl. Still, it tasted gross; maybe Sophie dealt with it by swallowing really quickly.
Sylar stopped her drinking all the milk and handed her half a pill. Claire swore internally and took it.
"It's time for your punishment," said Sylar simply. "Come."
Claire put the glass down and hesitated. She was currently on her knees; she wondered if he wanted her to stand up and follow, or just crawl. Oh, what the hell, walking with the ankle chain was difficult anyway, and this might get her extra bonus points. He had promised to cancel a malus point if she was good.
Claire crawled after Sylar on her hands and knees, her naked breasts dangling down and the rope rubbing between her legs; it was right on her clitoris this time, sending delightful twinges of pleasure through her with every shift of her hips. It was a shame he intended to hurt her and not fuck her, because she could have been up for a bit of that by the time she got into the bedroom area.
Sylar was standing by the bed; Claire kneeled at his feet, head down so she couldn't see whatever smug expression he had on his horsey face. His toes wriggled a bit as he talked.
"Kneel on the bed, back to me."
Claire complied. The pill was starting to work and every sensation was intensified; the feel of the cotton sheet under her hands and knees, the rope rubbing her skin, even the way her scrunchie pulled her hair into the ponytail. Once she was in position, Claire was facing the large mirror on the opposite wall; she watched as Sylar used the loose ends of the rope to tie her thighs together before tying her arms behind her back. He secured her arms and thighs to the existing harness and completed the preparation by threading a last coil of rope through her mouth, using it to pull her head back like a bridle.
Claire had never felt so helpless in her whole life. She was unable to move, incapable of healing and entirely at Sylar's mercy. With her head held up by the makeshift bridle, Claire had no choice but to look at herself in the mirror. She looked weird, she thought, all trussed up on the bed with her ass above her head and every bit of flesh crisscrossed with red rope.
The rope between her legs was putting light pressure on her pussy; Claire thought she was probably wet again since her body seemed to respond to stimuli independently from her mind. This game might even have been fun with another partner. However, she didn't trust Sylar enough to relax. He was going to hurt her, and he was going to enjoy it, which meant he would hurt her again.
"You've been very good," said Sylar breathlessly; Claire surmised that binding her had aroused him again. "You can have one malus point off if you like."
The rope through her mouth only garbled Claire's enunciation slightly as she said "Yes, please."
"Okay. Fifteen strikes and it'll be over," he said.
Claire made a noise to indicate that she agreed with that, though every shred of self-respect in her body bristled at the thought of being punished just because of his dumb game. She promised herself that some day she would whip him and make him crawl. The fantasy was made only slightly less satisfying by her suspicion that he might actually enjoy that.
Claire shrieked as Sylar struck the first blow across her exposed ass. Son of a bitch, that hurt. Claire decided that she was most definitely not a masochist, whatever Sylar might think. She tried instinctively to move away as he continued to whip her but the only parts of her body in contact with the bed were her chest and her bound knees. The best she could have done was to roll onto her back, turtle-like, and even in her state of growing panic, Claire didn't think that would help much.
Mentally counting the blows didn't help either; it just hurt too much. Claire's eyes were clouded with tears and her ass felt as though it was red raw by the time she reached 8. She found it hard not to beg him to stop, but she knew that would give him too much satisfaction; she still had some pride left. Looking at the mirror, Claire could see Sylar intent on his task, dark eyes lowered to watch her ass as he struck the next blow. Claire sobbed but swore she would make him pay.
"There, all done," said Sylar, throwing away the riding crop after what felt like an eternity. "You have been a very good slave today. Since you live so close, I want you to come here every day. If you're good, I'll mostly stick to stuff you like."
Every day? Claire thought there was no way she could withstand this kind of treatment and still hide it from her father, but she didn't dare protest while she was so vulnerable. Sylar kneeled down, disappearing behind her in the mirror. Claire whimpered when he kissed her ass cheeks; she was so sore that the light touch made her shiver. She felt him gently rubbing something cold onto her skin. Sylar was being very careful and the sensation of the cold substance on her burning skin was surprisingly stimulating. She could feel arousal starting to build again.
Sylar parted the two coils of rope between her legs, placing them on either side of her outer lips so that her external genitalia was compressed. The sensation was strange and made her sex throb. Sylar licked her a few times, bringing her close but stopping at the last minute. He replaced his tongue with his fingers; they slid easily between her folds, a testament to how wet she was again.
"God, I want to fuck you right now," he murmured.
Despite her resolution to play the good little slave, Claire whimpered. She couldn't bear the idea of him tearing into her while her ass was still so sore. Sylar kissed her bound sex one last time and wriggled two fingers inside her. The sensation felt less pleasant with her power disabled and her opening narrowed by the ropes. Claire tensed and shook her head, saying "no" through her gag as Sylar stood up again and pushed his pants down.
"Don't worry, I won't be long," said Sylar breathlessly. "Consider this part of your punishment."
Sylar looked kind of out of it, with the weird attentive expression Claire had seen when he took her power. She closed her eyes and bit down on the rope in her mouth as he pushed his way inside her.
"Oh, god, Claire, that feels incredible."
Bully for him. For Claire, it just felt painful. Everything was hurting now; her arms and legs, her neck, her raw ass and now the entrance to her vagina. She hated Sylar for putting her through this and she hated everyone who had ever let this bastard get away with his crimes.
At least he kept his promise; Claire watched his head roll back as he came with a groan after only a few thrusts. She closed her eyes, letting the tears roll down freely. Her sex throbbed uncomfortably along with the pain in the rest of her body; the sensation was so intense that it almost felt like arousal. Claire could feel the throbbing in her clitoris, little bursts of pleasure breaking through as his erection deflated and the pain eased.
The bursts intensified, making Claire hyper aware of the bed sheet against her nipples and the rope compressing her sex. She began to pant as the arousal increased, taking over her body as if enhanced by the pain, making her want to irrationally grind her sore ass against the dick that had just ripped her apart. Claire bit the rope again and whimpered.
She opened her eyes and saw Sylar concentrating on her, a smirk on his lips; even the knowledge that he was using a power to force sexual arousal on her wasn't enough to make it go away. Claire glared at him with hatred as the desire overwhelmed her body. She tried to fight but there was nothing she could do. She closed her eyes to block Sylar out and gave in, writhing involuntarily like a bitch in heat.
"Ask for it," he ordered.
God, hadn't he done enough already? Claire sobbed as the arousal remained but the stimulation on her sex subsided. She tried to fight it, thinking about unsexy things like Jackie's dead body and having her skull split open. But her desire-addled mind kept coming back to the painful throbbing in her sex and Claire wriggled and whimpered in spite of herself. She had to end this.
"Please-master-I-want-to-come," she said rapidly, enunciating with difficult around the rope in her mouth.
Sylar's eyes narrowed with satisfaction. "Well done.
Claire screamed as an intense orgasm shook her body. The involuntary movement strained her bonds, making the rope bite into her flesh. She groaned several times more, sobbing as the aftershocks subsided.
"Shit, I'm exhausted." Sylar sat heavily on the bed. He wiped her face with a towel and grinned at her. "That looked pretty intense. Did you like it?"
"No," said Claire honestly, her head still held up by the rope gag.
Sylar looked… disappointed. As if he'd given her a present and she'd hated it. "I must fix your virginity," he said thoughtfully. "It's kind of a turn on, but I guess it makes it harder for you. How do you change your earrings?"
Despite her resolution to be 'good', Claire turned her head towards him to give him her best 'what the fuck' look. Not just about the earrings, but more generally the idea that not being a physical virgin would make being bound, whipped and then fucked when she said "no" any more enjoyable.
"You wear different earrings every time I see you," he explained, waving his hand to loosen her bonds. "I'm guessing you don't use a piercing gun every time, so how do you change them? Do the holes stay there when you take your earrings out?"
"Yes," said Claire, resting her head on the bed as the rope fell out of her mouth.
Sylar didn't comment, though the weird thoughtful look returned; Claire wasn't sure she liked the idea of Sylar trying to "fix" her virginity again. But for now, she was more interested in the fact that Sylar was untying her. She flexed her neck and arms when he released them. He told her to sit up once her thighs were free, so he could unravel the rest of the rope tied around her body. There were light rope burns in places; Sylar used an organic cream to treat a couple of places where her skin was grazed.
"I don't think I like hurting you all that much," he said conversationally as he continued to direct the rope off her body. "It's more fun when you have your ability."
Claire rolled her eyes. "Yeah, for me too. Um, master," she added.
Sylar smiled, that genuine, toothy smile that made his laugh lines appear. "It's okay, we can stop playing now."
Claire blinked. This was a game that could stop? That was a new idea. She was tempted to disobey Sylar when he asked her to lie on her front, just to see if the abacus would come back into play. But she realized that he intended to put some more of the soothing cream on her ass, so she complied. Game or no game, she was already violated and in pain; she might as well let him do something useful now.
The cream on her bottom turned into a full body massage, followed by what felt like a sponge bath between her legs. Exhausted by the virtually sleepless night and the strange game, Claire closed her eyes. She really wished Sylar would cut the domination crap and be like this more often.
"You still have a couple of hours before your Dad gets home," said Sylar, stroking her head. "Why don't you get some sleep and I'll fly you back when it's time? You can text me later if you have someone you want me to take down."
"Hmm," said Claire drowsily, her eyes tight shut and her mind drifting off already. "Sylar, why can't you be nice to me?"
"Because you wouldn't respect me if I was nice," said Sylar without hesitation.
"I might like you better, though," murmured Claire, letting herself doze off.
There was a long pause and Claire thought he wasn't going to answer. But finally, she heard him speak just as sleep took over her body.
"Nah," he said quietly. "Respect will do."