I walked into my house, home from school. I stopped at the front door, sniffing. My nose immediately recognized the scent of Heather.
Heather was an older woman, a Domme friend of my Daddy/Dom. I hadn’t seen her in a few months and wondered where she had been.
Heather was of Scottish descent. Her hair was the deep red of some Scots. Her bosom was full and her nipples were always taut and swollen. She had little circles of steel through each one and I remembered how stranger the steel had felt in my mouth when I first suckled upon her breasts.
She always wore long skirts, nothing on underneath, ready to bare her cunt for me to kneel for and lick to a hot climax.
“I brought you a present, my wee lassie” Heather was full of joy at seeing me.
I remember being excited, clapping my hands. “What did you bring me?”
“Ahhh, too much, ye know I always bring you too much,” I remember Heather shaking her head in pretend disgust at herself. “Mayhap I should save some for your birthday or Christmas?” “NO!” was the shrieked reply, and she took my hand, leading me to my bedroom.
My bedroom was still one for a young girl. Colors, beautiful colors. Unicorns painted on the walls and angels looking down from above. I knew this girl was truly loved. I loved it this way, reminding me of my childhood.
We looked through all the packages, opening dolls and teddy bears to guard me and sit on my dresser. Heather had brought me shorts and summer tops. Suddenly I remember reaching for a long, square box and felt Heather’s hand go over mine to still it for a second.
I looked up into Heather’s eyes and watched the woman change. Watched the woman become that other person that she kept deep inside. “Open this carefully, me darlin’. These are for a mature knowing woman. Decide if you are that woman before you put them on.”
Nodding, but confused, I opened the box. Inside was crisp white paper, surrounding a flash of sparkling red. Slowly I peeled back the paper and gasped. There, inside, was the most beautiful, most sexy pair of high heeled stiletto shoes I had ever seen. The pumps shone with flecks of red crystal and the strap was dainty where it would wrap around my ankle. They glistened almost like a snakeskin. I picked one up out of the box and rubbed it against my face.
The woman watching reached under my chin and lifted my face. Heather later told me she could see in my eyes the same thing that was in her own. Unbridled lust. “Remember sweet one, the moment you put those on your feet, your fate is sealed. You will be a woman with all the woman’s wants and needs. Remember, as strong as you are, I am stronger.”
I stared into the eyes of the beautiful woman and then, slowly, nodded. Heather rose up from the bed and went to the door. She turned and looked at me, sitting, thinking. “I will leave you alone for a bit sweet one, and you can decide.” She left the room and closed the door.
Heather hummed a song as she moved around the kitchen. She was dressed rather provocatively, long skirt, halter top, and nylons. On her feet were shoes to match the ones in my room, only black. 4″ heels. Deep black, feet of a whore.
She heard a nervous little giggle and she turned, staring. I stood in front of her. I was dressed much like herself. A long little skirt, nothing under. A top, underneath a heaving chest, big nipples pointed as to ask for a deep sucking. My legs were bare, but on my feet were the red stiletto-heeled shoes, pitching my hips forward and causing me to walk like I desperately needed to be fucked.
Heather walked to me and gathered me into her arms, dropping her head to my face and kissing me deeply. I remember welcoming the kiss and returning it. Our tongues pushed against each other and danced. The kiss deepened and we pulled apart only when my knees got weak and I was ready to collapse from the passion.
Heather’s hand went to where my nipples were hard and pointed out, clearly showing through my shirt. Her small female hand cupped my breast and her thumb rose to stroke my nipple, her lust-filled mind hearing my groans. “Tonight baby, tonight you are mine” she hoarsely whispered and I nodded.
We went to the mall, dressed like matching sluts.
It made us feel powerful to have men follow us, men lust after us.
I was giggling about the man-mess on the side of the car. One man had followed us through the mall and then out to the parking lot. Heather had parked in a back corner and she and I had walked quickly, giggling at him following us. We had gotten into the car and Heather had locked the doors, but then we sat in the car waiting. The man walked up to the car and looked inside. Heather had smiled at him and slowly reached over to me, sitting in the seat beside her. I spread my legs and Heather pulled up my skirt until my pussy was visible. We could hear the man groan through the sealed window of the car.
Heather kept a smile on her sexy lips as she reached to me, pulling my legs wider open. She reached touched my bare pussy lips and we heard the man moan again. Heathers fingers parted my lips, and the shine from the lap post glistened against the wetness between my legs.
Heather slid one finger inside, then two. Movement outside the car made her turn her head and she realized the man had opened his fly and was rubbing his hard cock, his fist wrapped around the shaft.
Making sure the man could see clearly, Heather pulled me into her arms, kissing me deeply while gently sliding her fingers in and out of my pussy. Moving back, Heather pulled up my shirt and exposed my big puckery pink nipples to the man’s gaze, and that is when we heard it.
The moan became a groan.
The groan became a sharp, cut off exclamation of absolute pleasure as the man swiftly rubbed his cock in his hand and ejaculated against the side of the car.
As his consciousness returned to him, he looked around carefully to make sure no one had seen him masturbate as he watched the 2 sluts in the car. We were were smiling and giggling as he quickly shoved his cock back in his pants and hurried away.
“Go into your Daddy/Dom’s bedroom girl. It is time. I hope you are sure about this” Heather looked deep into my eyes. I hoped I looked sexy. I was dressed as a whore. Nipples pointing. Legs spread. Red slut shoes on my feet.
Without speaking I turned and went down the hallway and through the door at the end, closing it quietly. Heather went into the washroom and primped, fixing her hair. Standing in front of a full length mirror, she slowly disrobed.
Watching herself as her clothing dropped to the floor. Her nipples were so hard and she touched them gently. Her hands slid down her belly to the bare cunt she knew would be pleasured shortly. A moan escaped her lips. It was time.
She walked to the bedroom door, the silence in the apartment overwhelming. Her walk was slut-like. Long strides, naked. Wearing only her own pair of slut shoes. High stilettos. Heather could hear my deep breathing as she stood at the door, looking in. The bed was king size and was the focal point of the room. It was covered with a silk spread, golden in colour. There were pillows there, many strewn about like they had been thrown into the bed, all soft golden to match the spread. It had both a head board and a foot board, 4 posts for the pleasure of the owner.
The only light was the gentle moon glow from the window.
I lay in the middle of the bed. I was naked, as ordered. My chest was moving up and down, deep breathing. My long hair was spread across the bed, the blonde glistening against the gold. My nipples had hardened from laying on the cool silk and from what I knew was about to happen. Heather’s eyes wandered down my body. The body she knew so well, but had only seen when the girl was pleasuring Daddy/Dom. now, the body that was about to become hers.
My arms were spread wide. My head was still, staring up to the ceiling of the room. I could see myself in the mirrors above. My legs were also spread and my sex was very visible. I had the cunt lips of a whore. My cuntal lips looked swollen and battered as if I had been well used in my life, and of course I had. My clit is prominent, already swollen and poking out from the folds. My mons was bare. My feet were still encased in the shiny red slut shoes.
Heather walked to the dresser beside the bed and picked up the leather laces there. I remember reaching my hands out, and laid still while they were tied to the posts of the bed, my arms spread wide. Heather pulled my body down, so that my feet were almost touching the foot board.
Heather crawled to the bottom of the bed and sat, her back against the foot board. The wood was cold and her nipples showed it. She spread her legs wide, so that they were on either side of my body.
I remember staring at her.
I saw a beautiful red head. Full breasted. Dark pointed nipples. Flat belly. Rounded womanly hips. Bare cunt. Prominent clit. Sitting spread legged, her back resting against the foot board.
Heather saw a me. Dark pointed nipples on my full breasts. Bare cunt. Prominent clit. Laying on the middle of a large bed, hands tied to the top.
Heather smiled at me. She didn’t ask if I was ready for what was to happen. She, at this point, didn’t care. I had chosen. It was too late to turn back now.
I remember smiling back at her. I was scared, any person is scared of the unknown.
Slowly Heather reached for my left foot, still encased in the scarlet shoe. She raised the my foot and brought it towards her face. She placed the bottom of the shoe on her forehead, which put the sharp point of the stiletto right at her mouth. As I watched, her tongue came out to lick. She licked again. Soft flicking tongue reaching out and caressing the end of the leather point. Suddenly she pulled the shoe just a bit closer and slid the tip of the point into her mouth, sucking as if she was pleasuring a man. Deeper and deeper she slid it, until the entire 4″ of the heel was firmly encased in her sucking, pleasure-seeking mouth.
She drew in deeply, sliding down a bit in the bed. She was still sitting, but her legs were spread like a whore.
One finger was caressing her clit as the other handheld my foot, pumping the heel in and out of her mouth. I watched the woman, I remember being absolutely fascinated. Suddenly Heather pulled the heel from her mouth. It shone in the moon light, covered in spit. Heather lowered the shoe and pulled me towards her. She pressed the bottom of the shoe between her legs and with their eyes never moving from mine, she slid the pointed heel into her wet pulsing cunt.
"Fuck me baby. Fuck my cunt with your slut foot."
I did as I was told, the older woman guiding my leg in a motion as old as time. In and out, at first gently.. then moving faster until the heel of my red sparkling slut shoe was ramming in and out of her wet hole. Heather began to grunt. Her eyes were closed now, head thrown back. Her entire soul was centered on the core of her being. The sharp stiletto heel of the slut shoes fucking her into an intense orgasm. She was going to cum and cum hard.
“Yes baby, yesssssssssssssssssssssssssssss FUCK MY CUNT YOU SLUT! FUCK MY HOT WET HOLE BITCH”
It hit her then, beginning deep inside. Pure pleasure. Spreading out to her body, her nipples, her tummy.
Heather’s body thrashed on the bed, but her hands held the shoe firmly in her slippery pussy passage.
I watched as the orgasm shook her, enjoying seeing her pleasure. I waited quietly for the woman to come back to this world. It would then be my turn.
Heather gave a deep sigh of contentment. So good. Such a good cum. It was not only the feel of the heel deep inside her cunt, but the knowledge of what was about to happen. She licked her lips and opened her eyes. She let the heel slip out of her cunt and she laid there a second, letting her breathing return to normal.
Heather got up on her knees and reached for me. She undid the strap and slid the shoe from my foot. She held the shoe in her hand as she crawled up in the bed and laid beside me.
She placed the shoe on my heaving tummy and gathered me into her arms. Kiss after kiss was rained down on my face, followed by licks of my cheeks and lips. She reached down and took the slut shoe in her one hand and brought the shoe to my face. I remember laying quietly as Heather traced my face with the heel, slightly scratching the surface of my skin, but not hurting me.
She ran the heel over my eyes, around and down my upturned nose, across my cheeks and then brushed it gently across my full lips.
“Suck it baby girl. Suck my cum off of this slut shoe”. I opened my mouth, accepting the heel in without question. “Does it taste good slut? Do you like the taste of woman cum?” She smiled at me and I kept trying to suck it further into my mouth. “You suck cock so good, don’t you baby girl? You have learned, this heel is just a little tiny cock, from what your mouth is used to, isn’t it slut? You are a cum whore usually, aren’t you, you little bitch?” I nodded. The woman was speaking the truth, we both knew it.
“Get it all wet baby, you know where it is to go next, don’t you?” I nodded. I knew. My tongue worked all the way around, gathering spit from my mouth and depositing it onto the heel. My mouth opened and Heather pulled the pump out. “Good girl, now spread your legs baby.”
Heather kneeled up on the bed and spread her legs. She moved one leg over me, so that she was straddling my body, facing my feet. As she kneeled high above me, she watched my legs slowly start to part. “Good girl, do as you are told”.
The shoe was in her right hand. She moved back so that she was sitting astride my face below her. She didn’t lower herself, instead she bent over me, and rested the shoe on my nipple that was now pointing so hard. She began to circle the heel of the shoe around my nipple, watching it plump up even more.
“That’s it slutty girl, close your eyes. Feel the heel baby, enjoy its caressing of your skin”. She moved to the other nipple and rubbed the heel across it as well, watching it grow to join the other.
As she began to settle her wet bare cunt down onto my face, her hand began to push the heel into my soft skin. Heather heard me whimper under her, but I didn’t move.
Heather’s pussy was dripping cum from her orgasm and she slowly dropped her cunt down, feeling my soft lips. With her hand, she began to push the heel harder. Still circling the nipple. Harder, harder. The skin was now red under where the heel had been. As she circled both nipples, back and forth, the skin broke in places, and tiny drops of blood appeared.
Heather felt me squirm under her weight and she settled her cunt firmly on my face, grinding her clit into my sucking mouth. The heel was then dragged across my belly, leaving a red welt raised on the soft skin. The shoe was now at my cunt, legs spread.
Heather did to me, just as she had done to herself. As she reached my mons, she caressed it with the sharp heel of the shoe, then slid the heel up and down my parted lips. Finding my hole, she thrust the heel into me and heard my sharp cry.
“STOP whimpering, you slut. You fucking whore. TAKE THE HELL BITCH, take it all” she sharply said as the thrusting began in earnest. In, pull out. Every push in, the heel scratched the sides of my cunt. Every draw out she took a deep breath, waiting for it to go back in, and it did.
The woman ground her cunt into my mouth and furiously fucked me with the heel of the sparkly red shoe. Wetness glistened on the sides of my legs, mixed with a small amount of blood leaking from my pretty little cunt hole.
“Are you ready bitch? I am ready, it is time. It is time for you to become the true slut that you were born to be. NOW SLUT, NOW”
As Heather screamed the words out to me, she pulled the heel from my pussy and drove the sharp leather stiletto into my sweet tight ass hole. I thrust up under her as I tried to get away from the pain. My movement drove Heather wild with lust. She began to rape me in 2 ways. Her bare cunt was driven into my mouth and her hand began to pound the sharp heel into my ass hole.
She used me for her own lust, as is her due.
Grinding her cunt and down onto my face and driving the heel into my soft bum was erotic to this Domme. She had waited so long for this. She was going to cum so hard on my face.
“Take it BITCH. You are now OPEN. OPEN as a slut can be. Fuck the shoe bitch. Take the heel into your tight little asshole. You are a fucking whore. Take it. Take it.”
Heather’s screams increased, her lust came to a boiling point. “YES BITCH!! Worship the shoe. FUCK THE SHOE.
TAKE THE SHOE. FUCKKKKKKKKKKK!!! I am going to cum all over your little cunt face. Drink my cum BITCH. DRINK IT
I remember how loud .. The scream was echoing off the walls in the bedroom. The woman collapsed onto me. I rolled into a fetal position, the heel of the glistening red shoe still firmly embedded in my ass hole. The woman was exhausted, her pussy cum running down her legs.
Heather turned around and gathered me into her arms. She kissed my face, over and over then
licked her cum off my face. “Such a good girl. Such a good girl. Who loves you baby? Tell me who loves you?”
She was tied to the bed. Legs spread, fastened to a wooden post by a small length of chain attached to a black leather buckle around her ankle. She was sitting up slightly her wrists attached to her thighs by another set of black leather bracelets that connected her hands to her thighs, allowing her to only touch her pelvis and not being able to reach her pussy. Her small tuft of fur leading to her clit and opening that was already very moist. She had shoulder-length brownish black hair that fell in curls around her shoulder and neck. Round dark eyes with a narrow nose and full lips that were very moist and soft. Her breasts we round and hung slightly, pink nipples that were hardening, her breast heaved and she was getting excited, awaiting excitedly for what was going to happen. Her lightly tanned body was excited, her hips writhing slowly, she had curvy hips that gave way to slender legs, capped with toes that were washed in bright pink toenail polish.
Standing next to the bed beside her was Georgia, wearing a black leather bra, panties, and black high heels. Her left hand was on her hip, her right leg slightly cocked, and in her right hand lightly tapping her leg was a black leather riding crop. She looked at Monique contemplatively, studying her body, looking at the swell of her stomach the patch of black hair that adorned her pussy. Monique’s nipples were hard and she was looking into Georgia’s eyes.
Georgia brought the end of the crop lightly onto the erect nipple, lightly tapping and sending Monique into a low moan and oohing. Monique arched her back jutting her breasts forward to enjoy the crop on her nipples. Georgia noticed this and teased the nipples mercilessly. Lightly touching them, barely touching the round pink flesh that protruded from her. Georgia slapped the nipples with her riding crop, Monique loudly exclaimed her delight, moving her hips and thrusting her pussy forward as if she was fucking an unseen cock.
Noticing her pussy swelling Georgia commanded “Don’t cum yet sweetness, I have a treat for you”
Monique moaned deeply, she was burning inside, wanting to let go, break through the wall that was holding her back. However, she didn’t want Georgia to stop either. The leather swatting her erect nipples was feeding her need to feel alive, feel every bit of everything around her. Being restrained only heightened her senses, she writhed against the bonds more, trying to exert some pressure on the sensation she felt between her legs.
“Trying to struggle are we” Georgia stated. A twisted grin on her face, she was running the crop in circles around the firm breasts and nipples. Georgia led the crop down her stomach to her belly button in between her thighs and along her legs. Monique squirmed and cooed.
“You know if you struggle you will only make this take longer”
Slap went the crop on Monique’s clit, a squeal emanated from Monique. Monique felt the warmth meeting the leather and wanted more. Monique wanted her pussy licked now, she wanted to feel naked skin against hers, she wanted Georgia to drape her nipples on her tongue.
Georgia continued “In fact, you have been a disobedient girl, you were flirting without me yesterday” Georgia continued to caress Monique’s nipples with the end of the riding crop, stiff, erect, and aching for touch. The firm round breasts heaved with Monique’s breathing, her dark eyes were fixed on Georgia, hungrily looking at her, Monique kept licking her lips, and turning her hips to feel something on her clit.
Monique saw Georgia turn and leave the room, Monique moaned, groaned, and writhed against the bonds, feeling the silk sheets beneath her, her pussy wet, dripping down to her ass. Monique heard some jingling of chains and could hear that Georgia was coming back to her. This excited Monique, she wanted to feel the crop, she wanted to feel the flog, the leather slapping against her body, the sensation of ecstasy that Georgia provided her. However, Georgia had a surprise for Monique.
Georgia entered the room leading a female by a chain that was attached to a collar around the neck. The female was bound behind the back, blindfolded and with a gag in her mouth. Her tits were supported by a black leather corset, large round breasts that bounced ever so slightly when she walked. She had light brown hair that was attached with a clip above her shoulders, just to make sure it didnt get in the way. Around her hips was a black leather thong, accentuating the long curvy hips. Attached to the thong was a large black strap on dildo, slightly curved it jutted out friendly in front of Georgia.
Her name was Constance, Georgia met her last week at the bookstore. She was younger than Georgia, not very experienced. As they talked, Georgia could tell there was a desire that was not fulfilled, a desire to experience pleasure, to have her body and mind pushed to the limits of pleasure. Georgia and Constance started talking about the health food-related books that they were browsing. Georgia commented favorably on Constance figure, Constance was wearing tight jeans that showed off her belly button ring, spiked heels, and a T-shirt that was two sizes too small, Georgia also noticed as they were talking that Constance nipples were erect, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Georgia saw the delicious opportunity to explore, to uncover this young woman’s desires and never hesitated. As they sat down for latte’s together Constance told Georgia about herself, her job(she hated it), her ex-boyfriend (jerk), and how she came to live in this town. After a while the conversation turned to sex, they began looking around at the people in the bookstore, how they thought the older guy in the fiction section looked like he had a hard-on, the two girls in the photography section giggling over the semi-nude pictures.
As they both took a sip from their latte’s, a comfortable silence come over them. Constance then said, “You know what my secret fantasy is ?”
Georgia looked at Constance and asked what it would be.
“Being tied up” Constance stated matter of factly, as a sheepish grinned crossed her lips.
Georgia smiled and replied “Just being tied up, or being tied up and having sex ?”
Constance paused for a second and stated “Tied up and having sex”
Georgia then described to her that she enjoyed that experience too, but said she found something deeper behind it all. She found a connectedness, and bond that forms between two persons, or three, when someone has to trust someone else completely and totally. Georgia related her own awakening to this realization, Georgia spoke of her first time being bound, letting someone else dominate and control her. Giving up control of herself and her physical safety to someone else. Constance was riveted, never before had she met someone such as Georgia, who had the answers to all her questions. They ended up talking for the rest of the day, then making out in Georgias car in the bookstore parking lot. After caressing her nipples and making her cum with her fingers Georgia told Constance to be at her place at 6pm tomorrow night. Excitedly Constance said “Yes mam”.
Constance couldn’t see anything, she could just feel. Her heart was racing, her body was almost quivering, she was excited. Blindfolded she had absolute trust in Georgia. She felt a closeness to her that she had never felt in life for anyone, she felt vulnerable and secure at the same time. Georgia’s smooth hands tingling her body, lightly skimming her round nipples, up her neck, and caressing her chin. Standing there with the gag in her mouth she was breathing slightly heavy, the anticipation of what was next was moistening her. She could feel the strap on dildo pressing her clit, exciting her more.
Georgia then went to the bed where Monique was squirming. Georgia unhooked her ankle straps and lifted Monique up so she was standing beside the bed. Monique’s hands still bound to her thighs, she was slightly stooped. Georgia then led Monique to the raised portion at the end of the bed and told Monique to rest against the soft leather on her stomach. As she did that, Georgia reattached her ankles to the two o rings on the underside of each bed post. Now Monique was bent over, hands to the sides securely attached to her thighs.
Georgia looked lovingly at Moniques ass, two round, supple pieces of flesh. She caressed them softly, squeezing each cheek gently. Georgia then ran a finger inside Moniques wetness.
“Ooh” Monique breathed “Please can I have more than just one finger, please, please”
“Quiet” Georgia cooed, “You will get your chance to cum baby”
Georgia then turned to Constance, she pulled the chain and led Constance to Monique. She guided Constance, and the strap on she was wearing up to Moniques ass. She was rubbing and stroking Monique, spreading her pussy, feeling her moisten and tighten around her finger. She guided the dildo into Monique. Monique groaned a long moan of pleasure, short wispy breathes belied her excitement and arousal. Georgia eased Constance into Monique filling her up with the dildo.
“Dont move baby” Georgia commanded Constance.
Georgia then crawled on the bed facing Monique, she grabbed the hanging nipples and lightly squeezed them.
Monique was moaning louder and more excitedly “Yes, yes, god it feels so fucking good” she gasped.
“Now Constance baby, slide it in slow” Georgia instructed her, “Slow, let the head stay there, allow her to really feel it” At this suggestion, Monique moaned and wiggled her ass to feel the firmness of the toy. She tried to lean into the strap on, but Georgia had her nipples firmly and wasn’t letting her move.
While Georgia was playing with Moniques nipples, Constance was sliding in and out of Monique’s wet pussy. Hesitant initially, Constance was getting quite wet herself, feeling the dildo against her clit, she increased her rhythm while maintaining her balance. Not being able to touch the body in front of her was creating more excitement than she thought possible. Constance began slamming into her, deeper with each thrust gyrating against Monique pushing her back and forth, swallowing the strap on. Georgia was playing with Moniques nipples, telling her what a gorgeous woman she was, how her body was similar to the Greek goddesses she was reading about all the time.
Monique was in ecstasy, her body shuddered, her moist, wet pussy was dripping down her leg, satiating the dildo, moaning, she begged for Constance to fuck her harder. She could feel the balloon filling, expanding, winding up like engines on a Boeing 747, takeoff was imminent. Taxiing down the runway, Constance too was getting ready to take off, she felt the floodgates getting ready to burst. In unison both Monique and Constance let loose a river of orgasm, both shaking, Constance knees buckling out from under her, Monique body, stretched and tight as a rubber band pulled to its extremes, released herself and became limp at the end of the bed. Constance stood back, breathing heavy, she exclaimed through her gag the muffled sounds “Oh god”.
Georgia got off the bed, walked over behind Constance and kissed her neck, rubbed her shoulders and leaned against her.
” You were excellent baby, just beautiful” Georgia then released the bonds that were holding her hands behind her, removed the gag, and a blindfold. She then turned Constance around, wrapped her arms around her, hands slid from lower back to her ass, cupping each cheek, lifted her ass up and said “Were just getting started, my baby”
I walk in the house, intending on finding My Girl. It’s been a long day, and my back is killing me, and I’m looking to unwind.
I had called her earlier that afternoon on my way home for her instructions. I smile slightly as I see her open the bedroom door, dressed as I asked her to. Her black collar around her neck, her curly redhead hair down, falling over her shoulders and back, wearing a white gingham dress and barefoot.
She gives me a radiant smile, and I walk up to her as she kisses my cheek. “Did you have a good day Mistress?” She asks softly, lowering her eyes and taking off my coat.
“It was fine, very long. Prepare the bath for us, I’ll fix dinner for us afterward. Did you thaw the chicken?”
“Yes Mistress, just like you asked me to. What else are we having, if I may ask?”
I smirk. “Besides the chicken, mashed potatoes, carrots, and…peas.”
She makes a face but quickly hides it as she turns to prepare the bath. I know she detests peas, but they are a favorite of mine, and I’m not about to do without them since she doesn’t like them. I can feed her the carrots anyway. I watch her prepare the bath, and I stand and wait for her to prepare it all.
She turns to me, watching me expectantly. I give her a slight nod, and she starts to unbutton her dress. The thin fabric slides easily away, revealing her white bra and knickers. She smiles coyly at me as she folds her dress carefully, setting it on the counter, then sliding her underwear down her legs.
I’m getting rather impatient now since I know she’s teasing me, and I turn her around forcefully by her shoulders and unclasp her bra. She sighs as I drop it to the floor at our feet. She’s a neat freak, but I like pushing her buttons. She turns around and meets my eyes as she starts to undress me.
She starts off by unbuttoning my shirt, then she kneels down at my feet to take off my shoes. I smile slightly, seeing her there, and she looks up at me, her eyes lighting as she sees my smile.
She stands again, setting everything properly on the counter, the room is filling with steam now, and the bath is getting full. I motion for her to get in, and I pull off the rest of my clothing quickly and join her.
The water is perfectly warm, just how I like it. I pull her closer and she starts to wash me. I sigh as I start to relax and unwind after the long day. Soon enough, it is her turn, and I wash her long auburn curls first, then sliding the soap over her shoulders and breasts.
She sighs in contentment as I wash the rest of her, closing her eyes as she leans into me. “Thank you, Mistress.” I run a hand over her cheek as I tighten my grip around her waist. “Thank you, baby.”
We get out of the bath and I towel her dry. I pull the white gingham dress on over her, forgoing the bra and panties. She giggles as I slap her ass. “I think you forgot something Mistress.”
I smirk. “Did I? Why, I don’t think I did…go set the table.”
She leaves the bathroom, and I grab my black dressing robe, throwing it on and going to the kitchen. I prepare dinner, and she comes in the kitchen. “I’m done, Mistress.”
I smile. “Go to your place at the table and wait for me.” She nods and leaves. I take my time finishing everything, bringing out the food to see her kneeling by my chair at the head of the table.
I sit down, and I prepare our plate. I give her a quick nod, and she settles in my lap. I put a bit of chicken on my fork and give it to her, watching as it is taken into her mouth. She chews and swallows, smiling at me. “Thank you, Mistress. It tastes good.”
I smile back, taking a bite myself. We continue on this way until we’ve had our fill. Afterward, we go into the kitchen, and I watch her clean these dishes. I can’t help myself but hold her tightly from behind, kissing up and down her neck as she washes the dishes. She shivers in my arms as I tighten my hold on her, pressing her against the counter. “Mistress?” She whispers.
I breathe into her hair deeply, sliding my hands up and down her sides. “How was your day today?”
I feel her swallow hard as I slide my hands down to her things, lifting her skirt slowly. “F-fine. I had some work to do in the greenhouse…” She trails off as I slide the skirt up to her hips.
“Yes?” I say, biting her neck teasingly.
“A-and I talked with my A-aunts today…” Her breath hitches as I pinch her thigh. “Mistress…do you wish for me to…to finish the dishes?”
I pull her hands away from the soapy water, toweling them dry. She meets my eyes with a smile. I put her skirt back down, patting her ass and motioning towards the bedroom. She giggles, running towards it. I follow her leisurely, pleased to see she’s already kneeling by the side of the bed.
I go over to the closet. “Get undressed.” She takes off her dress as I select a few things for play. She is already naked and kneeling once more by the time I return, and I admire her pale skin and gorgeous breasts.
“Get on the bed.” She sits on the edge quickly, eyes lighting up as she sees the toys in my hand. I smile and set them on the bedside table. I pull the tie from my dressing robe completely, letting it fall open, and I see her eyeing the tie with a smile. I move towards her, finally kissing her on the lips. She sighs as she relaxes in my arms. I put more pressure against her lips, sliding my hands up and down her back.
Soon, she’s shuddering and gasping as I kiss and nibble up and down her neck. Her legs have fallen open slightly, and I know she’s wet.
“What do you want darling” I whisper into her ear, making her pant and close her eyes.
“Touch me. Please. I’m so wet for you.” She gasps.
I just smile, pushing her to lie on the bed fully, using my robe tie to tie her wrists together to the headboard. I clip her leash onto her collar, and she smiles beautifully up at me. I kiss her gently, then pull off the rest of my robe.
I get on top of her, savoring how warm her skin is against mine, I feel her arch up into me just slightly, tilting her head back with a slight whine. “You want me to touch you, darling? Where do you want me to touch you?” I tease her by sliding my fingers up and down her arms and chest, in between her breasts. “Here?” She bites her lip, looking at me imploringly. Her breath hitches as my fingers go lower, sliding over her smooth shaved skin down below. “Here?” I whisper, delighted at seeing her nod needing, her legs just spreading a bit farther, exposing her sex.
“Please Mistress…please touch me.” She begs, and I start to trace my finger lightly around her folds. She shifts her hips with a groan, and I slap her thigh. “Now, now, don’t be impatient,” I say sternly. “Or I won’t touch you at all if you’re a bad girl.”
She nods, inhaling sharply as I slide a finger into her. I close my eyes for a moment, concentration on the feel of the warm wetness that surrounds it, trembling slightly as I lick my lips. She groans as I slip my digit into her channel. I move in and out slowly, teasingly, watching her face as it slowly starts to flush. I add another finger, moving a bit harder, putting a bit of force into it.
“Please…harder…faster, Mistress.” She groans, tugging slightly at the tie around her wrists. Her breasts are heaving now, and I take one of her nipples into my mouth as I start to move into her roughly. “Yes! Yes…fuck me, Mistress! I want you…I need you so bad…” She cries out, fucking herself against my fingers, moving her hips. I add another finger, making her inhale slightly, pausing the movement in her hips. I bite down hard on her nipple, making her cry out, moving her hips faster. I start to bite the skin around her breasts, down her stomach, leaving red teeth marks behind.
I move back up to pull on the leash, making her sit up slightly, harshly kissing her. She whimpers as I slip my tongue between her lips, our tounges meet, sliding against each other. I fuck her harder as I pull away, adding a fourth finger. I lick my lips as I press my thumb into her other hole, and she stiffens and gasps, eyes wide. I lean over and grab the vibrator, thrusting it into her ass, making her eyes roll to the back of her head as I turn it on. “Fuck!”
I move my fingers and the vibrator at the same time, she’s begging to cum now, but I wont let her, not until I know she’s at the edge. I’m close myself, but I’ve got plans for that later. I take my hand off the vibrator, leaving it there for now as I grab the leash once more, snapping it against her thighs, leaving a pink mark in its wake. Her legs convulse as she cries out. “Yes! Hurt me please!”
“Yes darling, you’re a little pain slut, aren’t you?” I growl, enjoying the satisfying snap as I strike her skin once more, crisscrossing the other mark. She arches her back, I go back to two fingers as I pump in and out of her, making her move up and down from the pressure, watching her breasts bounce and her arms tugging at the tie around her wrists, knowing she wants to touch me too…
“Please…please let me cum…” She begs finally, tears slipping out of her eyes. I kiss them away, licking my lips at the saltiness, then kissing her cheek. “You may cum.” I whisper into her ear, my lips tracing her earlobe.
And she does. Her cum shoots out onto my thighs as she cries out, making me groan and rub against her, reveling in her wetness, taking my fingers out of her and rubbing my own wet sex against her thigh. “Such a good girl, My Girl…” I whisper, moving my hands quickly to untie her wrists and turn off the vibrator, taking it out.
I pull her close, kissing her heavily as I am still rubbing against her, flipping us over so that she’s on top of me. “Get down there,” I growled, yanking her by the hair. She moves down, getting in between my legs, still trembling from her own orgasm. I set myself up on some pillows as I watch her start to lick my hips, stomach, and thighs, cleaning her cum from me. I twine her hair around my hands, my fingers running through her scalp as I pull her down to meet my sex. I groan as she works her tongue inside me, and I push her head a little harder. Her fingers tighten their grip on my thighs as our eyes meet. I smirk, tugging slightly on her hair.
She works me over quickly, I couldn’t last too much longer, and I cum into her mouth and face. I pull her up quickly to kiss her hard, tasting ourselves on each other’s tongues. She sighs as I wrap my arms around her tightly when we catch our breath. Our eyes meet, and I kiss her forehead, her cheekbones, her eyelids, and finally her lips gently. “I love you, My Girl,” I whisper, holding her tight.
Tears are still in her eyes as she holds me just as tightly back. “I love you, Mistress.”
I had been talking with Josh for several months and we recently completed plans for his wife Charlie to fly to Baltimore to spend a week as my sex slave. Charlie is still new to the kink lifestyle and extremely shy. This was a very big step for her to fly to an unknown place and put her mind and body into the hands of a complete stranger. Her flight arrived and when my eyes saw her coming up the ramp, my heart skipped a beat. She dressed exactly as I had requested in a tight White croched top with a plunging neckline and a matching mini skirt. She even wore the White 8 inch heels. I could clearly see her gorgeous stiff nipples poking through the holes in the croched top. She recognized me from my photo and walked right up to me. She gave me a quick hug and a little peck on the cheek. “Not good enough slut” I barked at her. I grabbed her and pulled her tightly to me and planted both hands on her perfect ass and squeezed and massaged her butt cheeks. I could feel she had also followed my instruction not to wear anything under her clothes. She was definitely braless and pantiless! I groped her all over right there in the middle of the airport. I squeezed and massaged her perfect big tit’s and ran my hand up the front of her short skirt to discover she had shaved her pussy bare also as requested. We retrieved her bags and made small talk en route to the airport hotel where I had booked her a room for the week. Once in the room, I set up my video camera to record all the events for Josh to view later. I kissed and made out with Charlie for over an hour before we uttered another word. I ordered her to strip and she was naked before me in seconds. I gazed upon the body of a true goddess for sure. Her tit’s were perfect 36b’s and her pussy was an absolutely perfect specimen. I lay Charlie on the king-sized bed and kissed her some more, slowly working my way to her neck and ears which I love to kiss and nibble on. I intended to lick, kiss, suck, and nibble every inch of this sex goddess! I massaged her boobs and pinched her nipples eventually replacing my hands with my lips. I licked, sucked, and nibbled her breasts for nearly an hour, paying equal attention to both. I kissed and licked my way down her flat, soft belly and took in the sweet aroma of her pussy as it grew hotter and wetter by the second! When I reached her thighs I kissed and teased all around her pussy until this shy young girl finally screamed “please eat my pussy sir” I need it now”! I ate Charlie’s sweet, hot pussy until she had cum in my mouth and all over my face three times. I then ordered, ” Charlie, get on your knees and suck your new master’s big thick cock now”. She hesitated and looked at the floor hiding her face in her hands. I pulled her onto my lap face down and began swatting her sweet ass hard ten times. She was crying, but through her tears, she said” I promise to be a good girl and suck master’s cock now”. with that she slid to the floor and took my hard cock in her hand. She slowly guided me to her lips and kissed my cock on the head. She then slid her mouth slowly down my shaft and back up again. I grabbed her hair on both sides and forcefully pulled her down on my cock until she was choking and gagging. I let her up for air and then forced her back down again. I started to slide my cock in and out of her mouth until I was brutally face fucking Charlie until I finally shot my load straight down her throat.
After I had touched, kissed, licked, caressed every inch of Charlie’s heavenly body and eaten the sweetest, juiciest pussy I have ever had it was time to continue her slave training. I took Charlie into the bathroom where we took turns washing each other’s bodies, paying close attention to the good parts. I turned off the water and had Charlie lay in the tub as I spread shaving cream all over her ass and pussy. I took my time and slowly shaved my new slave stroke by stroke until she was smooth all over like a newborn baby! “From now on you will keep yourself clean-shaven for your master, do you understand slut? ” “yes Master, I will keep myself completely shaved for you, Sir”. “Now understand my pet, from now on this pussy is mine, it does not belong to you and it does not belong to your sissy husband”. “Yes Master, from this moment this pussy belongs to you and only you”. “Now to make that official slave, get dressed in that tight Blue silk dress I saw in your bag, and no bra or panties are to be worn with it.” The dress fit every luscious curve of Charlie’s hot body like a second skin. We left the room and walked a few blocks to my favorite tattoo parlor. I introduced Charlie to Amber, the owner of the place. “I want this tattooed right above her pussy with cherries on either side just like all the others I told Amber as I handed her a folded piece of paper. Amber had Charlie take off her dress, and when she saw her body, Amber whistled and said” very, very nice Tim!” “get up on the table and lie flat on your back honey” she instructed Charlie. Amber got to work and was done in about an hour. In Black letters with Red cherries on both ends, the inscription just above Charlie’s pussy read ” PROPERTY OF MASTER TIM”. Amber looked at me and asked, “may I Sir”? “Yes you may my pet”. With that Amber lowered her face to Charlie’s pussy and began to lick and kiss her way all around Charlie’s pussy. Charlie moaned and pinched her own nipples as Amber touched the tip of her tongue to Charlie’s clitoris! “Thank you Master Tim” Charlie said breathlessly as Amber feasted on her sex. “i have dreamed for so long of making love to another woman and you have made my dream come true”, “I am so thankful Sir”, I would do anything to please you Master Tim”, “I will hold you to that, I said” “Now get naked so Charlie can have her first taste of another woman”, I ordered to Amber. Amber stripped off her t-shirt and her shorts along with her pretty Pink lace g-string. She climbed onto the table with Charlie facing Charlie’s feet and placed her clean-shaven pussy above Charlie’s mouth. As Charlie looked up, she noticed the same tatoo that now decorated her pussy was also tattooed on Amber’s pussy. Amber lowered her pussy to Charlie’s face and felt Charlie’s lips softly and tentatively touch her wet pussy! Charlie then became like a woman possessed and licked, sucked and nibbled Amber’s pussy like it was her last meal. Amber was likewise doing the same to Charlie’s freshly shaved and tattooed pussy. Before long both girls screamed and shuddered as they came all over one another’s faces. I took Charlie back to the room after she and Amber kissed each other goodbye and tasted themselves on each other’s lips. I gave Charlie a nice bubble bath and let her fall asleep in my arms naked. It had been a long and rewarding day for my new slave.
A pleasant surprise awoke me this morning, My newest slave Charlie woke me by sucking my cock and is now bobbing her head up and down my 7inch shaft. I pulled her off my cock and lay her on the bed. I have already cum in your beautiful mouth my pet, now I want to cum inside my new pussy. I lay Charlie on the bed and started kissing the sweet lips that had just been sucking my cock. This girl could kiss too, she shoved her tongue into my mouth and French kissed me like I never had been French kissed before. I broke away and kissed her soft neck and nibbled on her ear lobes.I sucked on her neck until I left three large hickies on her soft skin. I felt her big breasts and nibbled and sucked her nipples as I slide one, two, then three fingers into her wet pussy. I climbed on top of her and slid the head of my cock up and down her slit. Once lined up with her hole, I plunged my entire seven inches deeply into her in one quick thrust. Charlie’s pussy was super tight, but with the wetness of her arousal I slid in. to her hard and fast. Her pussy gripped my cock like a clenched fist. I pumped in and out of Charlie faster and faster until I felt her pussy pulse, constantly gripping and releasing my cock. I felt my orgasm reach the breaking point and I pumped and pumped at least a cup of cum deep inside her. I rolled off Charlie and immediately had her clean our combined juices off of my cock with her mouth. We rested and it was actually Charlie who rolled atop of me and placed a leg on either side of me and lowered her soarked pussy down on my newly hard cock. She rode me like a bull rider moving up and down so fast she was like a blur. Suddenly the door to our room opened and a sixty-some-year-old Latino woman in a maid uniform stood and stared at the bed and at Charlie and me with her mouth wide open. She stammered an apology and stated that the please clean room sign was facing outward on the door so she assumed we were out and wanted the room cleaned. She started to back toward the door apologizing the whole time. Please don’t go I pleaded, “please, please join us” This young lady is my new sex slave and she absolutely loves to eat pussy”. The woman hesitated and slowly walked toward the bed where Charlie now lay beside me. She looked at the tattoo above Charlie’s pussy and then at my still cock and her hands went to the buttons of her blouse and hypnotically began to unbutton them. “Help the lady Charlie” I ordered. Charlie climbed out of the bed and went to the maid. The maid who I later learned was named Esmerelda placed her hands on both sides of Charlie’s head and pulled her down to kiss her passionately on the lips. Charlie moaned softly and kissed Esmerelda back with true passion. I got up and went behind Esmerelda and kissed her neck from behind as I felt Charlie unbuttoning her skirt. Esmeralda’s skirt and granny panties slid to the floor leaving her in a Black garter belt and Black silk stockings. Esmeralda and Charlie stumbled backward onto the bed and were soon maneuvering into a hot 69 position. I pulled Esmerelda up until she was kneeling over Charlie’s head and still feasting on her pussy. I slid my cock into the older woman and fucked her slowly as I felt Charlie’s lips and tongue on both of us from below. I did not last too long and was soon filling Esmeralda with my load. I backed off and sat in a chair to watch Esmerelda and Charlie eat each other and suck my cum from each other’s pussy. Esmeralda dressed quickly saying she had to get back to her work and promised to clean our room first the rest of the week.
After our threesome with the hotel maid, I took Charlie into the shower once again. This is fast becoming one of my favorite things to do with Charlie. Soaping up her big, gorgeous tit’s and rubbing a soapy sponge all over her gorgeous body keeps me hard as a rock. Charlie has become a willing and eager slave in a very short time. I close my eyes and picture Heaven as Charlie drops to her knees and swallows my entire cock until her nose touches my pubes. She quickly brings me to the brink of orgasm, but I must stop here as I do not want to cum just yet. I have Charlie sit on the edge of the tub and lather her pussy with shaving cream. Shaving Charlie is so much more pleasure as opposed to a chore. Seeing the water cascading over her smooth and silky pubic mound is as glorious as watching the falls at Niagara! I towel her nice and dry and lead Charlie to the bed where I must eat her for a bit as she is as irresistible as a fine wine or juicy steak. Her pussy smells like spring rain and tastes like sweet honey. I stop abruptly and tell Charlie it is time to get dressed for a day of sightseeing. I give her an almost transparent White form-fitting dress made of fine silk that I bought in anticipation of her arrival in Baltimore. “No bra and no panties” I remind her. As the dress is pulled tight over her exquisite body, I can clearly make out her large stiff nipples and big breasts under it. It stops about one inch below the bottom of her ass, which it frames perfectly!
We leave and enter the elevator and descend to the lobby. I can feel the eyes of every man we pass as they are drawn to the glorious sight of Charlie in the tight, transparent dress. Even the girl at the front desk, a beautiful Black young lady stops and stares. Charlie remarks how pretty the desk clerk is. “Wait here just I minute my pet,” I say to Charlie as I stroll over to the desk.”Don’t say anything”,I tell her, just listen and tell me yes or no when I am done”. “My pet over there would like to have you for lunch, and I do mean have You for lunch if you get my drift”? If you agree, say yes, come to room 313 at 1 PM. “Yes, yes, and yes she say’s” “my name is Keisha, and I would love to!”
We continue to the harbor and have a lovely day touring the aquarium, the science center, Fort McHenry,and the shops at harbor place. We return to our room shortly before one and soon after there is a soft knock on the door. I open the door to find Keisha standing there shyly looking down at the floor.”Hi”, she says very softly. I invite her in and introduce her to Charlie.”I’ve never done anything like this before” Keisha admits. “I have never even been attracted to a woman or had sex with another girl before, but your girlfriend is so beautiful I could not say no to her request”. At that point, Charlie approached Keisha and gently touched her on the cheek and said” up until yesterday,I had never been with a woman before, and now you will be my third in less than two days” . “When I saw you this morning and the way you stared at me, undressing me with your eyes and your dark, exotic, smooth skin I just knew I wanted to get to know you intimately”. With that, Charlie put her hands ao both sides of Keisha’s head and pulled her in for a long sensual kiss. Charlie’s hands began sliding all over Keisha’s petite body, feeling every soft curve and stopped to feel her small, perfectly rouns boobs, and finally gripping both of her small round butt cheeks. Charlie continued by unbuttoning Keisha’s blouse and skirt and quickly sliding them off. Under her clothes, Keisha wore a baby Blue bra and matching thong. Charles unhooked Keisha’s bra and licked her lips when she saw her small, perfect breasts with big puffy nipples. Charlie lowered her lips and took one of Keisha’s nipples in her mouth and gently licked and sucked as a guttural moan escaped her throat. She paid equal attention to the other breast and then grabbed Keisha’s panties gently sliding down her smooth, silky less until Keisha stepped out of them. Keisha still wore her spiked high heels and as she stood there I remarked how absolutely hot she looked. Charlie dropped to her knees and buried her face in Keisha’s pussy eating her like a hungry lioness. Charlie then bent Keisha over at the edge of the bed and spread her tiny ass cheeks as she buried her face in Keisha’s crack. Her tongue shot out and went right into Keisha’s asshole. Charlie licked and tongue fucked Keisha until the young girl shuddered and came hard. THe girls climbed onto the bed and were quickly locked into a hot, sweaty 69. They licked, sucked, nibbled one another until both came 3 times. After a brief rest both girls teamed up to give me a mind-blowing blow job and Keisha ate my ass as I shoved my thick cock into Charlie from behind, I pumped my load deep into Charle’s bowels and sat back and watched as Keisha licked it from her as soon as I pulled out.
As we lay there in the afterglow of mind-blowing sex, we learned this was Keish’s
18th birthday. Her gift to herself was coming to our room to let loose with my gorgeous pet. Keisha said “there is one other thing I would like for my birthday”.
“What is it, I asked?” “technically I am still a virgin and I would love for you to take my cherry Sir” ” I said,” I am honored and more than happy to grant your wish, but you must agree to call me Master and become my property from this day forward”. “I agree and understand what that entails Sir” With that I told her she would need to sign a legally binding agreement and submit to getting a tattoo exactly like Charlie’s to prove her love and devotion to me.”Yes Master” Keisha replied, please take my pussy now Sir, and please allow me to eat Mistress Charlie’s pussy while you take my virginity.” I kissed Keisha hotly and let my hands explore the small, soft, sexy body my pet had already experienced. I applied some lube to Keisha’s tiny, tight pussy and slowly slid my big cock head inside the tiny young girl. I slowly and gently slid inch after inch into her hot pussy as she buried her face between Charlie’s thighs. Both girls moaned and screamed as they came. I followed soon after, pumping Keisha full of cum for the very first time! We all showered and kissed goodbye after exchanging contact information with Keisha and making arrangements for dinner and her tattoo session later that evening. After Keisha left,I bent Charlie over the bed and fucked her long and hard from behind as I tightly squeezed her big tit’s in both hands! After I came, I fell asleep with Charlie spooning me and my cock nestled against her soft ass!
We wake at 6pm and as has become our custom we immediately get into a 69 position and I once again feast on Charlie’s delicious pussy as she greedily sucks my cock. After we both cum, we shower and dress for the evening. I have another gift for Charlie in the form of a Navy Blue Satin dress with ruffles top to bottom and a neckline that goes all the way to her belly button. The hem of the dress is two inches below her pussy. Charlie slips into the dress and applies her makeup and perfume. We meet Esmerelda and Keisha in the lobby and head off to the tattoo parlor. Once in the shop, Amber immediately has all three girls strip after locking the front door. Before long, Esmerelda and Keisha are branded with my Property Of Master Tim tatoo. I have a special surprise for Charlie tonight. I tell her to climb up on the table and tell her that Amber also does piercings and she is now going to get her nipples and her clit pierced. Amber rubs and licks Charlie’s nipples to get them nice and hard and before long she sports three new piercings. Amber inserted beautiful Amber colored earrings in all three of Charlie’s new holes and Esmerelda and Keisha share my cock. I decided to also have both of my nipples pierced also on a whim. As Amber worked on me, Charlie and I made out with some hot French kissing as we watched Esmerelda and Keisha do the same.
We all dressed and took a walk around the city. We ended up at Keisha’s home as it was only a few blocks from the tattoo parlor. Although my cock is fairly large,I still wanted to see Charlie experience a true monster cock. During our partying and erotic conversation at Keisha’s place, Keisha mentioned that she had an ex-boyfriend who was extremely well endowed. They had petted and played a bit, but she would not let him fuck her as she did not want to chance to become a teen mother. I asked Keisha if she would call him and see if he would like to join our little party. Keisha dialed the phone and invited her ex Tyrone to come party with her and her new friends. Tyrone gladly accepted and was soon knocking on the door. Tyrone and Keisha kissed and hugged and he rab his hands all over her petite body. I explained to Tyrone that all three ladies present were my slaves and did whatever I instructed them to. “Damn man, you gotta teach me how to do that,I would love to have three sexy bitches who do whatever I want whenever I want”. I agreed and told the three ladies to strip and they immediately followed my order. Tyrone was in awe as he saw the matching tattoos that all three ladies displayed. Some ladies enjoy being told what to do and achieve great satisfaction form being ordered around and sexually used I explained. “Ladies, please welcome our new guest properly” I ordered. All three ladies stripped Tyrone and Keisha began kissing him hotly as Charlie and Esmerelda dropped to their knees and played with his cock. I watched as Tyrone’s dick grew from about three inches soft to an eye-popping twelve inches long and a girth of around three inches. Keisha whispered hotly in his ear” remember that tight little pussy you wanted so badly, well Master Tim has given me permission to fuck you tonight as I am now on the pill.” I broke in and said” Tyrone my friend, you can fuck all of my slaves tonight, but please take Charlie first, She has never had a cock like yours and is eager to have the experience.” Hell yeah” Tyrone said. Charlie was already soaking wet from sucking Tyrone’s monster cock and he easily slipped it’s head into her as he bent her over on the bed doggy style. Charlie moaned loudly as Tyrone slowly slid inch after inch of his massive cock slowly into her pussy. Charlie’s pussy stretched wider than it ever had to accommodate this huge Black cock. Esmerelda sat at Charlie’s head and guided Charlie’s face toward her pussy. Charlie was now impaled on a huge Black cock and was eating a hot wet pussy at the same time. I had Keisha sit on my lap with her back to me as I eased my 8 inch cock into her tight little Black pussy. Charlie began moaning louder and louder as Tyrone finally bottomed out with his entire twelve inches buried in her pussy. I had Keisha lay on her back on the bed and she slid under Tyrone and began licking Charlie’s pussy and Tyrone’s cock as he started sliding it faster and faster in and out of Charlie. Esmerelda screamed as Tyrone’s tongue pushed her over the edge and she came violently. I began fucking Keisha missionary style as she recovered and got up to come behind me and began eating my asshole. I came hard shooting shot after shot of my cum into Keisha as she continued to lick Charlie and Tyrone. Charlie was screaming ” Fuck Me!, Fuck Me, Yes, yes,yes, fuck me with that big Black dick, Fuck me harder, fuck me harder, I love your huge Black dick in my pussy, Tyrone, Oh Fuck, I’m gonna cum,Oh Yes. Oh Yes, Oh Shit Yes! Tyrone stiffened and came hard shooting shot after shot of his Black seen into Charlie’s convulsing pussy. Tyrone pulled out with an audible Pop noise and Keisha greedily licked his long thick cock clean and caught the cum that had begun running out of Charlie’s pussy like a river. We all collapsed in a heap and rested for a while as we gently caressed each other.
My gorgeous and sexy new slave awoke me again with an amazing blow job today. Charlie asked if we could take it easy today due to her pussy still being very sore from Tyrone’s huge Black cock last night. I agreed and told her I would take her shopping today for some sexy lingerie and dresses. Charlie’s face light up when she heard this. A moment later there was a light knock on the door and Esmerelda let herself in with her passkey. She was dressed in a sexy French maid outfit and carrying a feather duster in one hand and a flogger in the other. I told Esmerelda Charlie was too sore to play today and she said: “That is ok Master TIm, perhaps I can take care of your needs and please you in new way’s today”. With that, she stripped me naked and had me lay face down on the bed. She produced four restraints from her cart just inside the door and went to work attaching them to each of my limbs and then to the four corners of the bed. Things were quiet for a few minutes and suddenly I felt a sharp sting on my bare ass, then another and another as Esmerelda turned the tables and gave her Master an exquisite flogging. I also felt the sting of her flogger on my upper thighs and back. With each swat, my cock got harder and jerked beneath me. She then removed her panties and straddled me on the bed. She lowered her pussy until it touched my sore back and began grinding it against the welts on my back. Harder and harder she rubbed herself back and forth wetting my back with her juices until I felt her pussy spasm over and over as she came all over my back. Esmerelda released me from my restraints and immediately flipped me over and swallowed my cock in one swift movement. She licked, sucked, and nibbled my cock until I exploded in her mouth. She climbed up and kissed me with my cum still in her mouth and shared my load with me. Next, she straddled my waist and slowly lowered herself until my cock was buried inside her completely. The sixty-three-year-old maid rode me harder and faster than most women I had been with who were one third her age. She quicked her pace almost to a blur and we came together. Charlie not wanting to be left out crawled between Esmerelda’s spread thighs and licked her clean inside and out and then licked my cock clean of our combined juices. We all showered together in the huge shower stall in our bathroom. Esmerelda dressed in her regular maid uniform and kissed both Charlie and I goodbye with a hot French kiss. Charlie dressed in a tight Black leather mini skirt, fishnet pantyhose, and a transparent Black blouse and I slipped on my trousers without bothering with underwear and a button-down shirt, We went out on the town stopping at Victoria’s Secret, Macy’s, and Nordstrom’s where I dropped a thousand dollars on new bras and panties along with several garter belts, stockings, and body suits for Charlie and several pairs of gorgeous panties for myself. I also spent eighteen hundred dollars on six new dresses for Charlie in various styles. The dresses were all very, very short, and hugged Charlie’s hot body like a second skin. We returned to the hotel room and modeled our new things for each other and snapped hundreds of photos to upload to Fetlife and sent some to her husband back in London. Charlie ended with a super short and super tight White Satin dress on. I had her kneel on the bed and pulled her big tit’s out of her dress and hiked the hem above her perfect ass. I reached for some KY Jelly and spread a generous amount on her asshole and my cock. “today I finally take your ass my pet”. I said as I slowly eased my cock into her very tight little asshole. After allowing her to get sed to me being where no cock had ever been before, I started slowly sliding in and out of her ass lovingly as I grabbed her big tit’s and pinched her long hard nipples as I gradually increased my pace until I deposited the first load of cum ever into Charle’s virgin ass. After cleaning up, we dressed for dinner and Charlie took my breath away when I saw her in the Red latex mini skirt and matching red latex corset.
We had a romantic candlelight dinner and returned to our room where we stripped and went to bed spooning each other as I stroked Charlie’s sexy body all over.
I woke on the morning of day seven to a warm, wet mouth on my cock. I first thought Charlie was waking me in her usual way, but got quite a surprise when I opened my eyes. Keisha was nude and stretched between my legs devouring my shaved cock and balls. Her thin Black body and her small firm titties were a very welcome sight. Next to Keisha, I saw Esmerelda face first in Charlie’s pussy making her moan and thrash around. Keisha soon had me cumming in her talented mouth and Charlie soon screamed “I’m cumming”,Oh God Yes!,Eat me baby, eat me” I lay there and rested as I watched Esmerelda and Keisha lick, kiss,and caress Charlie from head to toe. Keisha straddled Charlie’s head and lowered her sweet, young, Black pussy onto Charlie’s mouth. Charlie stuck out her tongue and licked the wetness from Keisha’s dripping pussy. Esmeralda busied herself with sucking on one then the other of Charlie’s big perfect breasts. I was hard again in no time and slid between Charlie’s spread legs as I ran my hard cock up and down her slit. I found my target and plunged balls deep into Charlie’s hot pussy. Charlie was in heaven as the three of us sent pleasure to every part of her body all at once. Keisha grabbed her own boobs and squeezed and massaged them as Charlie’s lips and tongue pushed her over the edge and she came all over Charlie’s face. Before long a familiar feeling began deep in my balls and erupted out the end of my cock as I pumped my cum deep into Charlie’s spasming pussy as she came with me.
The ladies dressed and kissed Charlie Good Bye. “We wanted to give you a proper send off knowing you will be leaving for London today girlfriend,” Keisha said. I spent the next two hours taking photos of Charlie in all the lingerie, dresses, blouses, and skirts I had bought her. Now I had plenty to keep me busy in-between visits from Charlie. I dropped her at the airport at noon and returned to my car to weep alone. I would however soon be talking to Josh about setting up regular visits every two months where Charlie would be returning to spend a week with her Master. I also began thinking about arranging a little trip for Josh to visit himself due to the subtle hints he had been giving me during our frequent emails during Charlie’s visit. I have been around and lived the lifestyle long enough to know that Josh was curious about M/M sex and I intended to be his teacher and also his Master in time.
She wore nothing but sheer white crotchless panties. She knew they contrasted beautifully to her golden skin. The girl was tightly bound face up on the bed– her arms were pinned to the sides of the bed with leather cuffs, and her legs were cuffed to the corners of the posts. She wore a white-feathered mask over her eyes. Her Mistress had told her that she would be tested this night, and her nipples were already swollen and hard with anticipation.
The Lady returned. The girl could hear her opening and closing the door. The Lady had brought someone with her. She strained to hear their muted voices as they whispered back and forth. A soft gentle music began to play and the girl felt someone’s hands on her. Warm and scented they began to glide down her chest. They circled around her breasts, down her stomach, and across the tops of her thighs. They removed her panties. The girl couldn’t tell if they belonged to the Lady or the other. As the hands continued to massage her, she decided that she didn’t care whose hands they were. The hands continued to massage lower and lower all the way down to her feet. They released tension and stress the girl hadn’t realized she’s been holding. As the hands moved up, they worked out knots in her calves. The warm oiled fingers moved back up to her torso. Unexpectedly, her nipples were pinched hard. They were plucked until the peaks were stiff and standing proudly!
The girl bit her lips and moaned as she had been told not to cry out loud or cum until she was given permission. The hands retreated from her breasts, massaging her as they had before. Over her stomach and down her thighs the hands oiled her, leaving a warm and scented trail. The hands moved closer to the open vee of her legs and the girl lifted her hips in invitation. A single oiled finger moved down the cleft of her mound. Again the girl lifted her hips but the finger moved away. The girl groaned in her frustration.
Something cold and wet touched her lips, a sliver of ice. As the ice slipped into her mouth a warm wet tongue followed it. The girl tasted and knew it belonged to the Lady. Their tongues dueled for a few moments, then the Lady’s tongue moved lower to the girl’s jaw and then her neck. The Lady nibbled and sucked the girl’s neck raising goosebumps. As the Lady nipped her, the girl once again felt hands on her breasts. They circled her nipples and tweaked them. The girl arched up hoping they would pull her nipples harder. They were pinched and pulled severely and the girl loved the pain it caused. Just as the girl was beginning to truly luxuriate in the pain, everything stopped. The hands moved away, the Lady left her neck, and the music stopped. The girl almost wept.
The girl was moved. She was rolled onto her stomach, her knees were drawn up and her hands were pulled forward. She has bound to the bed again. The music came on, this time it was harsher. Cymbals thundered and drums thrummed a primal beat. The girl squealed as she felt a tongue on her pussy. It moved from the base up to the top of her clit. As soon as it reached the tip, she felt the first whiplash. She didn’t know whether to groan because of the sting or moan due to the tongue. She tried to arch up into the sting of the whip, but she was bound too tightly. She could only wait. The lips had moved up to her nipples. They were sucked and nibbled almost too gently. It frustrated her. The whip came again, and she tried to move in such away so that it would last longer. She truly loved the feeling of the lashes on her back. She loved hearing the crack it made as it was lowered to her. She also remembered what the Lady had said about being tested. She reveled in proving her worth. The 3rd.the 4th…. the 5th lash fell…she wanted it to continue as every time the whip came down, either her pussy was fondled or her nipples were tormented. She wallowed in the sensations. The smell of the leather tips, the sting that they produced, the hands-on her pussy, the lips on her nipples. all combined into a frenzy of sexual heat. She wanted, needed the release of cumming. She knew that the Lady knew of her heat, she always did.. She began moaning. she was supposed to be quiet, but the yearning was too strong. The girl began to beg. she needed to cum..she needed to tell the Lady how good, how hot she made the girl feel. The Lady had told her that she couldn’t cum until she had permission. She needed to hear the words. the words that would make everything all right. The girl moaned louder trying to move..to jam her poor hot pussy against the fingers that slammed in and out of her. She squealed as the lips moved away from her nipples. but emitted a low deep cry as the fingers were replaced with a hot hard object. The girl wasn’t sure what it was that probed her so deeply but she didn’t care. All she knew, as she slammed her dripping wet pussy up and down on it. It filled the empty space that was so in need. The girl felt hands on her hips…aahhh it was the other that the Lady had brought. It was a man’s cock exploring her hot little cunny. She tried to slam herself back against the cock, but she was cuffed to the bed and couldn’t move enough. The hands that had held her hips just a moment earlier moved to cover her breasts. Finally, the Lady said she had her consent to cum. Luxuriating in her helplessness she was pumped and ground into a screaming orgasm. She arched her back as much as she could and felt the throbbing and clenching in her pussy. As she came, the hands moved again and pulled and pinched her nipples, further inflaming her. They brought her to a peak she’d never felt before. Quivering and shaking the girl collapsed as much as her bonds would allow. The hard cock withdrew from her. Her bonds were released. She was cuddled tenderly until she came back down to earth.
Once again, ice passed her lips. Warm and tangy, the same tongue followed the ice. The girl was loved and petted. The Lady was obviously not upset that the girl had not been quite as she had been told; she felt the happiness of the Lady. The girl realized that she was sandwiched between the Lady and the other. The cock was throbbing against her ass. The girl hoped that the test was not over yet, she still felt the need to prove her worth. She recognized that it wasn’t when the Lady told the other to move the girl back to her first position.
She was bound back to the bed, face-up, with her arms and legs cuffed firmly again. A weight was put on her chest. She recognized it….it was the other. He seated himself on her breasts facing her. She felt the hardness of his cock against her lips. He brushed it back and forth teasing her with the smell of it. The girl licked as much of it as she could reach. Up and down, she tasted him. She opened her mouth hoping he would give it all to her; he did. Sliding most of his cock inside her mouth, she tongued down the entire shaft. She delighted in hearing his moan as she sucked back up to the tip. As he fed her his cock, she felt her cleft being touched again. Her lips were spread wide and she could feel fingers being inserted. Her juices began to run again. She lifted her hips as the fingers slid in and out of her cunny. Between sucking the rock hard cock and having her pussy toyed with she got hotter and hotter. She began to make gurgling noises, all that she was capable of, with the cock in her mouth. The other moved and withdrew his cock from her straining mouth. He poured oil over her tits and shoving them together, started to fuck them. Squeezing her tits tightly, he ground his hard cock through the space that was left. The girl was downcast that he had not cum in her mouth, but the fingers moving in and out of her pussy canceled some of those feelings. As the fingers jammed in and out, her pussy started to throb. Once again, she needed her release. She moaned and bucked her hips, inviting the invasion of the others. Again, she begged the Lady to cum. This time the Lady wouldn’t give permission. The girl was shaking, needing to have an orgasm. Just as the girl thought she could no longer stand the pleasure, the other moved and slammed his cock into her. The Lady gave her the words she was so desperate to hear. Cumming hard, the girl screamed her fulfillment. One last time the cock slammed into her. One last time the other jerked and came. The man pumped her until she was spent. Again, the girl was loved and petted until she came back to earth. When she was capable of thought, she hoped she had pleased her Lady. The Lady speaking softly and tenderly assured her, she had
Like most FemDommes, I really enjoy degrading men. I love putting them in their place. I like to see them tortured. I enjoy most when my dominant side is able to interact with people from the perspective of a female supremacist and at my core, I have no problem espousing that men are only good for manual labor and procreation… and soon only the former.
And yet I am a lesbian. Not a hardcore militant lesbian, but just a girl that likes girls… exclusively. In fact, I find men physically repulse me. I’ve tried to play with a few and I find myself wanting to use toys with the longest reach and really don’t enjoy the experience. So I made the decision it’s girls only for play and for sex.
I love flaunting my superiority over men and even receive an additional sadistic thrill with the fact that nothing about them could ever interest me. Being able to say “you have nothing to offer me” to a horny and excited guy is quite fulfilling. Even more, I love going on webcam and allowing these salivating dogs to lust after me, knowing in my mind that they want what they will never have.
It really feels to me like conflicting desires. If I enjoy toying with and abusing men so much, would it not make sense that I’d want to get one alone and continue his suffering for my amusement?
Possibly your perspective (enjoy flaunting your superiority over men) yet dislike of close – intimate contact can be explained by your age (young). __BUT__, then I have NO excuse for feeling the same way since I am almost twice your age. LOL
So, I’m going to speak about – for myself. Please do let me know if what I say resonates with – fits your situation.
Permit me to first point out I can think of a few, very few, males I know who don’t ‘fit’ in my neatly packaged perspective i.e. they are the exception(s). Most are either so FULL of themselves or tend to only think with their lower head OR worse STILL guilty of BOTH!
No, just because you know you are superior and enjoy letting males know that, and you’re not wanting more intimate contact, is NOT a conflict. It is two aspects of who you are. To/for many, it may sound like a dichotomy, but for me, it’s the nature of the matter.
Based on your profile and pictures you are a ‘gas’. Of course, the fact that you like gas masks HELPS ‘n seeing several poses makes me say, ‘Daymn’ why do so many of the neat (in behavior – attitude) Lesbians live SO far away.
You’re more than entitled to your opinions, likes, dislikes, etc. More power to you. Personally, I find your opinion of yourself no less over-inflated than those of the men you disdain. If it makes any difference, as a guy, a woman has to make me feel she’s superior, and all the posturing and boasting in the world isn’t convincing.
The first pro-domme I went to is a lesbian, and I’d try to walk on hot coals for her to this day if she asked. Her voice is quiet, her manner cheerful, and there’s no mistaking her authority. I have no idea how she feels toward men deep down inside, but she’ll show some genuine compassion toward us when appropriate – I’ve received it. She wins respect and adoration without demanding them.
If you like to taunt men on webcams, those are the kind of guys you’ll probably encounter and base a lot of opinions on – one’s who jerk off to webcams. They won’t give you a great impression – lol. I’m sure it’s an ego rush and fun to taunt them. There are other types of men who are drawn to women who can whisper their dominance, or simply project it. Just a different pov.
over 11 years ago Reply more
I personally love men and do not think that most dominant women hold them in disdain or as somehow less worthy than women.
On the contrary, I want a man who has strong personal power and will willingly hand over the authority to use that power to me. If he saw himself as has been described above, he would not hold any interest for me.
In the first place, I find it hard to see any woman as superior who gets off on flaunting herself for the edification of wankers. Who is in control in this situation. The male is there to jack off and she is just there to help him do it.
Secondly, I find it hard to listen to anyone with respect who is the flip side of the paternalistic ego inflated male that so many women call sexist and chauvinistic. The attitude is no different the gonads are the only change. I find both attitudes pathetic to the extreme as it is not the sex of the person that makes them superior it is the actions and the character.
Third, I used to work in female maximum state prison. That will teach you very very quickly that there is nothing superior about the female gender. Women many times can be more vicious and backstabbing than men under the best of circumstances.
SO is it an oxymoron? No, it is just the same old hot air just from different sex. Now you want to talk about oxymorons? How about responsible government, or military intelligence, or fast food. Those are true oxymorons.
I love putting men in their place too, or worse(a platter would be nice too. Yum!). I don’t think being a lesbian female supremacist makes you an oxymoron unless you want him to be childlike like vanilla men want their women to be.
I’m bi, but drawn more to women intellectually and emotionally, but I do like men but pickier about appearance and obedience of course. He’s got to eat right and stay fit and slim and the layered baby look that came around in the ’90s, no, if he wants me to dress revealing, he’s going to reveal more, and better look good doing so.
I have known a number of dommes over the years and the majority of them have liked men, even loved. I could be wrong but I don’t believe that it’s possible for a woman to be any good as a domme if all she feels towards men is hatred. And as if the little webcam escapades I think they say more about you than the men involved. You describe yourself as superior to men? How. Have you written any symphonies lately? before you start belittling men with your smug uneducated attitude you might want to remember to millions of men who died in two world wars so you would have the right to free speech. To me you sound like a silly little girl who has picked up her philosophy from cheap feminist novels. here’s a little nugget of information. Do you know who the worst offenders are when it comes to child abuse? Women. Still feel superior. Being a woman doesnt make you superior nor does it entitle you to one iota of respect. That comes from the person you are. You might want to take another look at yourself. If you’re brave enough to do so
I agree, you need to act like men to be able to effectively dominate them. I believe that the idea of the male dominating FemDomme doing it BECAUSE she hates men is a total fallacy. This is why I don’t Domme men.
I should point out that I’m not a man-hater per se, I’ve just come to learn that they really have no place of interest in my life. As I receive multitudes of come-ons and requests from guys on a daily basis, I come to regard them as pathetic little dogs barking to get up a tree they could never climb. I do have many guy friends who I love dearly as people. But when it comes to the entirety of the male species, I find myself able to generalize them in a derogatory way that leaves me with a smile on my face. 🙂
The crux of my confusion is if I enjoy it, then why don’t I want a male slave. The answer is easy, because they physically repulse me to play with. So why do I enjoy it? Maybe it’s just a giant mobius strip of a contradiction that can never be answered.
Some men give me the willies and I have that same reaction of looking for the longest toy possible so I don’t have to touch them. As a pro, I just don’t see those clients again. It’s not any fun to dominate somebody I truly have no connection with at all and I’d rather pass them off to someone more compatible. In my personal life, I usually only top close friends and people I have a certain amount of affection and respect for. Anything else is icky and a waste of time. I don’t think gender has much to do with it, other than that there are just so many icky guys it gets easy to lump them all together sometimes as a disgusting breed in general, but that’s really not fair.
Your post is filled with bile and hatred towards men and when you use a term such as female supremacy then you just sound like a nazi. If my comments were rude or insulting then they were no more so than yours. If a person makes the kind of comments that you made then I’m afraid they are leaving themselves open. You have a great deal to learn. Fine you dont find men sexually attractive. Gay men dont find women sexually attractive but by and large they treat women with respect, as do submissive men. And for somebody who finds men so repulsive you seem to obsessed with them. Tell me would you have you have the same attitude towards your father. You must do as you admit that you lump all men together into the one cathegory.
I would like to point out that many gay men are terribly misogynistic.
I consider that equally wrong.
I posed an honest and self-reflective question here in hopes of getting feedback to further my personal growth.
And I think you are getting that feedback for personal growth: (1) it’s not cool to make generalizations and describe a whole class of people as inferior, (2) and choice of words matters tremendously.
If you don’t find men sexually interesting, fair enough. It is a whole different matter to say they are good only for labor, and to refer to them as pathetic dogs and the like. Would it not be unfair of a gay man or a person who has issues with a transexual person to say the same about you simply because you are not of sexual interest to such a person?
If you have men whom you hold dear, do they not defeat the image you hold of men, and is it not disrespectful to those dear friends when you speak of men in general in this manner?
I’m going to be very direct. I’m commenting on this, “before you start belittling men with your smug uneducated attitude you might want to remember to millions of men who died in two world wars so you would have the right to free sppeech” you misspelled speech by the way. But! Have you lost your mind!? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard on this site. WWII had not a damn thing to do with women’s rights, or free speech, in fact, women even if they wanted to wouldn’t have been allowed to fight. Read your history books. It was all about protecting allies and the country
from a system that the US government once considered becoming allies with
um, gosh, you guys think about this stuff so freakin’ hard….ouch! I go out, I meet people, I beat people, I have fun. OMG it’s not a class, its a dungeon….relax, breathe, go with it, enjoy….it’s supposed to be FUN people……….remember???? FUN?????????
and by the way……….some of us Dommes LOVE, love, love men and we beat em for good reasons………..FUN and mutual pleasure being one of the biggest ones….hello????
I’m going to try to help you with your question instead of getting into the drama. Your choice of words to me reveals a hatred of males. Things like degrading them, torturing them, like salivating dogs, and good for only manual labor, toys with the longest reach (to avoid even touching them). These are the words I mean. Now some of the things I say may not apply because I’m just guessing based on some of the things in my past. I wondered if you have always thought of yourself as a female born in the wrong body? I you did it makes it terrible in trying to grow up and fit in anywhere. The girls shun you and the boys treat you like a sissy fag. Did the super studs in school torment you because of your feminine looking body. Or maybe did even worse by forcing themselves on you in some way and taking sexual liberties with you. Don’t jump me here I am only guessing so I know I may be way off base. But if any of this is true then that would explain the contradictions, at least to me. You disdain males because of what they did to you. You like toying with these masculine males because they think they are wanking off to a lovely woman. How funny it would to have them out that they were wanking to a lovely female but just one that has a cock like them. What a nasty demeaning joke to their manhood that would be. Then you enjoy making fools of them with they wank off to you but you don’t want a disgusting male with his spurting male slime near you. I read this thread several times and each time I wondered why is her disdain of males is so deep and well expressed in her posts. I again am only guessing but if any of this is true then it may help explain your oxymoron. By the way it’s what you believe in your brain that makes who you are and you are a lovely sensual woman.
this group is called femdom. And you are getting in the drama. it’s a group for those of us who are into that. What did you expect.
Fm is not universally about disdain of men.
Indeed torturing, physical and verbal degradation, and manual labor are common themes in BDSM. However, the matter is a bit different here and I do not see your statement to be as representative of all as you present it to be.
To me, the torture and physical and verbal degradation as described or done by the OP come from a disrespectful place. While some in BDSM might enjoy treatment that comes from a place of disrespect, not all do.
And the OP’s comment about being useful for labor only appears to be not in the context of service or BDSM, but in an intellectual context about universal roles in society. I do not agree with this statement intellectually and find it to come from the same disrespectful place.
While some who enjoy femdom might hold these views, I do not see these views to capture the spirit of femdom.
A no of points I would like to make in regard to this thread: 1. I believe the point I made in regard to world war 2 is a valid one. The reason is because if the Nazis had won the war then anybody whom they did not consider normal ie. Gays, Lesbians, TGs would more than likely have been put in a camp and experimented and eventually murdered. 2. I am certainly not a chauvinist in any way shape or form but I believe that Sexism is wrong. It is wrong for men to practise it and it is wrong for women to practise it. 3. To me Mistress Lynch’s feelings seem to be coming from a place of hatred so she has no real concept of the psychology and philisophy behind Femdom or indeed any form of domination. There is no place for hatred in BDSM. Its about mutual respect and understanding, even more so than it is in the Vanilla world. If that understanding and respect is not there then there is a very real danger that somebody can end up being seriously damaged. 4. Re the Symphony reference. I admit that was a slightly cheap shot but it seems to be the trend these tends to belittle men at every opportunity. As a man then I’m well aware of the catalogue of crimes committed by men but those men dont represent every man on the planet just as every woman who commits a terrible crime doesnt represent every woman on the planet. Men have contributed a lot to the world which is extremely positive, just as woman have. 5. Rules in regard to equality obviously go out the window when a sub is in the presense of his Domme but the respect and understanding must still remain.
I’m actually finding it amusing the picture many people are painting of me, and I’m sure it’s partially my fault. I am not a man loathing militant angry woman by any means. I’m actually extremely laid back. When I speak of putting men in their place, calling them dogs, using them for labour, etc… that is my attitude when I am in femdomme mode. Many guys and girls love being humiliated in the kink scene. Pain and humiliation are the two biggest things that people enjoy. I’m not a sadist. I’ve never totally identified with the term humiliatrix, but humiliation and degredation is a large part of what I enjoy. With that in mind, this is why it makes it very easy for me to take the stance towards guys that I do as a femdomme. This is not a hard leap to make, and there are no shortage of guys who eat it up.
I do have a boy that play with on occassion. It started before I was fully sure of my complete lack of desire to be with men physically. But because I broke his kink cherry and because (very important to people listening) he feels completely safe and unrestrained in serving me, I continue to play with him. After we first played he thanked me for the continuous open communication during play, and for being so considerate and compassionate. In fact, these are the compliments I hear from everyone I play with.
Getting back to what MistressTerry said, this is supposed to be fun. It’s a lifestyle where we are indulging in our dark fantasies and agree to do so in as much of a safe and controlled way as we can. I do not go to work and shout at my male employees and tell them they are shit.
I remember watching the documentary Fetishes, and when asked if they dislike men, the Dommes speak up and say that they love men and assert that if you don’t love men, then you will not last as a ProDomme. I fully believe this to be true, and this is why I don’t Domme men as a rule, and it’s not about not wanting to take the time to get to know them, or appreciate them as people. But simply because they actually physically displease me.
I would love to be bi, I really would. I have like 6 guys that actively want to date me, and I’ve made sincere efforts to see if I could make it work. But they all led to the same conclusion, and that I’m only comfortable with women. That’s fine, I fully accept that.
I just still struggle with the fact that I enjoy being a FemDomme bitch to guys verbally and not physically.
Rarely do I get into a debate online as I find it terribly counterproductive. However, if you read my original post you will notice that I say: “…many gay men are terribly misogynistic.” I have never stated that ‘all’ gay men are anything. As for the attitudes of ‘many’ gay men, I suggest that you enter into some face to face conversations with gay men in gay bars. I think you might be surprised to find that many of these men have some really skewed ideas and perceptions about women.
Things that I have heard or have been said to me:
“… and for god’s sake clean it (vagina) out once in a while. The stench is almost unbearable” This was from a friend of mine.
“Some fatass was twirling a flogger around trying to look cool and hip or something. Some other fatass was walking around in clothes that were far too tight for her 300-pound body. Several other fatasses were discussing the merits of eating and wearing tight plastic clothes or something to that effect. What I’m getting at is that the straight D/s community is, without fail, morbidly obese and without shame. … Several of the morbidly obese women from the previous night were in attendance. I got to see the straight D/s world in their natural habitat. … Eventually he convinced a woman to walk him around the room while he sniffed at the crotches of several fat women. …. A morbidly obese woman had an equally obese woman and a man who must have weighed 100 pounds and was running a scene with them which entailed a really shitty spanking/flogging. … I see that the fatass and her twig and other fatass had finished their scene and were having a good cry about it on a couch setup for aftercare.” – This is from a blog about a BDSM/Pansexual Convention. The man writing the blog is known to me as a gay Leather boy.
As well, I have been present in gay bars for pansexual events and have been intentionally bumped, shoved, shunned, borderline assaulted, etc. I by no means believe that all gay men are women haters but when the flooring in one gay bar that I patronized is designed to be a physical hazard to those wearing any type of narrow heel, … well, you can’t really say they are encouraging women to become regulars.
I’ve actually written quite a bit. Novels, plays, short stories, poetry. In hindsight the remark re symphony was a cheap shot but the tone of Mistress Lynch’s post annoyed because it appeared to be coming from a place of hatred, a place which could potentially lead to real genuine danger for any man that got involved with her. But she appears to have changed that stance now. or it could be that I read the tone now and what she was really saying was that in order to enter into the psyche mode for domming then she views them as inferior being? Which does make sense. So If I did read the post incorrectly then I apologize to her now.
There is no gay America and there is no straight America. There is the United States of America 😉
For all the stories about negative comments from gay men, I could tell more that they are positive. I could talk about the gay man in Austin who for several years served and led a mostly het BDSM group. I could talk about the gay man in Austin who runs Central Texas Boys of Leather and regularly arranges events open to the entire BDSM community. I could talk about the gay woman in Dallas who founded a new group that serves people of all orientations. And I am sure there are just as many stories, good and bad, about how a het person or persons have behaved towards the gay community or the general BDSM community. I see this type of behavior to be distributed across people and not specific to any group.
I appreciate gay men because based on my experiences, amongst het women, gay women, and het men, gay men are more open to others coming into their space than the other way around. I think I am fortunate to have experienced events and communities where gay and het folks get along well. I think Dallas has a model leather community. I know the same is not true everywhere and in my opinion, even one person can make the difference about whether the relationship between gay and het folks is good or bad.
In any case, I do not see the issue in this thread to be tied to homosexuality. There are too many gay women who appreciate men for me to think the behavior is specific to being gay. I think the behavior is specific to whatever feelings a given person has based on whatever experiences such a person has had.
This thread has gotten totally out of control and either I’ve hit a severe nerve or people really need to take a chill pill. I’ve wondered exactly how people have managed to get all worked up about civil liberties and gender inequities in a group dedicated to Female Domination on a kink website.
You’re right, me being transgendered has absolutely nothing to do with the topic, and to suggest otherwise is spurious and misleading at best… even going to the ridiculous extents that weewee went to create this entire history that I may or may not have lived/endured as an explanation for who I am today. This is why I haven’t responded to these comments.
I will however say that to assert that I have “duped” people like MisPandora says is utter and absolute bullshit. I state with unflinching clarity exactly who and what I am so that no one can ever rightfully accuse me of being the “deceptive tranny.” I have nothing to hide and I am who I am, but I will not start every communication with a disclaimer about my personal medical history, nor should I be expected to.
If we want to have a general conversation about why we enjoy Female Domination and the psychological ramifications and origins of said fetish, in the FemDomme group, that sounds like a fabulous idea. Honestly, it has this feeling like I just walked into a meat deli convention and said “mmm, this is great pepperoni” and was greeted with stunning looks from everyone as if I were a cannibal.
I also see a great deal of hypocrisy going on where I’ll be blasted for my perspectives and generalizations on Female Domination and people like slavedoge will go on to post threads asking why any woman would ever submit to creatures as weak as men.
But the last thing I am is a drama queen, so I really don’t dig what’s become of what was meant to be a simple thread over what I thought was a simple topic. So I’m hoping this post will bring this thread to a close because I don’t feel like it’s doing anyone any good.
Differences in male and female anatomy include differences in the brain and, thus, psychology. Each sex of a person (physical identity) and gender of a person (psychological identity) are defined via biological processes at the time of conception. Sometimes the physical identity and mental identity are out of alignment due to biological reasons. A change in sex (the physical identity) is not so much a want as a need. I hope you are not confusing transgenderism with fetish-based cross-dressing.
I do not have an issue with your style of play if it is based on degradation and various forms of SM alone. To the extent I have an issue, it is related to where or, at least, one of the places I see your interest in this play to be rooted.
To convey my point using an edgier example, a racial supremacist might engage in uncaring SM (without fondness or regard) with subs of a different race. Within mutual consent and interest, I do not object to even this form of play. In fact, I even see the raw SM appeal such play might carry for each party. Still, I would have philosophical and intellectual differences with the racial supremacist (and subs who intellectually subscribe to the same view) for his general views (versus a fantasy or construct for sake of SM) about his sense of superiority of self (with respect to human worth, not mutually chosen power and status imbalance) and contempt for the subs.
The same principle applies to your play. I do not object to the SM play itself. To the extent it comes from general contempt for men, I intellectually and philosophically disagree with you.
I will add that I see SM play that comes from a place of contempt to less likely care about what emotional or physical harm might result from the play. In caring SM, each compassion, fondness, and a sense of ethics and responsibility help mitigate against such harm. In SM flavored by contempt, this mitigation relies more on ethics and responsibility, the effectiveness of which will vary from person to person.
Based on how I feel about the various women and men in my life and for intellectual reasons, it is hard for me to understand a general contempt for women or men. I see anyone who holds the other gender in contempt to have some form of an issue. If you have such an issue, in my opinion exploring why you have this issue would be helpful to you.
If you do not have this issue, there have been explicit references in multiple posts to the various portions of your text which convey a contempt for men. If they misrepresent you, it is you who typed them. If you do not wish people to offend you, why not reciprocate the courtesy with how you choose your words.
To address your question, I do not see a contradiction between being lesbian and wishing to engage in SM with men. Many people have different preferences with respect to general intimacy and BDSM; one very well regarded couple in the BDSM scene has a gay man as a master to a gay woman. She is allowed lovers but her M/s dynamic supersedes her relationship with a lover.
And I think it is reasonable that you might like to play with men yet not want to have an ongoing relationship with one. Compatibility is not black or white but grey. There are many instances where a given domme will play with a given sub at a play party and there only–there is enough compatibility for play at a party but not enough for anything beyond. Perhaps for you, all that defines compatibility for an ongoing relationship creates a general likelihood that a man will not be compatible with you for such a relationship. The type of play you describe seems more suited for getting your respective fixes, and not a broader interpersonal relationship.
I think it is possible for you to run into a man with whom you will feel enough compatibility to keep around. I am confused by your question because one of your posts suggests you already have had such an experience.
Lastly, I think some of the disagreements in this thread result from confusion between concepts of female superiority (based on general human worth), female supremacy (based on chosen status imbalance, not human worth), and dominant supremacy (supremacy extended to a dominant who must be of a given gender due to one’s preference, and confusing this supremacy with gender supremacy in general), a discussion I will save for another time.
Just a few points I would like to make here. Firstly I would like to praise the sea for his excellent responses to this thread. They have been excellent and extremely well written. He is obviously a person of great intelligence with genuine compassion and insight into human nature. I’m also going to defend MistressLynch. I don’t agree with the tone of the original thread but I will defend the right of anybody to define themselves as they wish. those of us who are involved in the world of BDSM is all too aware of the ignorance we have to face and while I am no expert on the subject of transgender I know enough about it to understand that the people involved suffering a great deal of emotional and psychological pain. As a submissive male I have a hide a great deal of my inner self from the rest of the world because most people would not understand why I would want to submit to a woman. Many of these people would be women. All to often the world tries to force people to deny who they are and it takes courage to stand up and say this is who i am.
“Come here, bitch,”
The order is sharp and matter of fact. The girl switches off the water in the kitchen and immediately comes to her side. Although they are not usually so formal at home, the girl can hear in her tone that kneeling would be the appropriate course of action. She slips, gracefully, to her knees and looks up at her Lady, waiting to hear what she will be told.
Her Lady smiles at the gesture; Her slave, who listens intently to read her needs. Who seeks to please and give her what she wants, even in the smallest of gestures. She will have the chance to do so later. Her Lady has been plotting quite an evening of amusement for herself. A day really. She smiles to herself.
“Life is good,” she thinks as she leans back in the desk chair and listens for a moment to the birds. She looks down at the girl and raises an eyebrow, simply to see her blush and squirm. Instantly, the flush raises in her cheeks and her shoulders curl. Instantly, she’s wide open and an inch high. The girl giggles nervously. She can’t help herself. Her Lady knows the meaning of this giggle very well. She’s feeling tiny. Miniscule. Torn open. Exposed. Delicious, her Lady thinks. Her sweetness. Her vulnerability. The slight glisten on her olive skin.
“Finished with the dishes?” her Lady inquires.
“Good, go upstairs and bathe. Shave. Scrub yourself, inside and out. I want you pristine. Got it?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” the girl replies and instantly rises to do her bidding once the Lady offers an almost imperceptible nod of her head. But, the girl sees it and understands. She heads up the stairs, trying hard to make no noise, and enters the bathroom where she bathes herself thoroughly and shaves until she’s as smooth everywhere as baby skin. Because it is her will. Because she prefers her property, clean, bare, exposed to her, and pleasant to touch. When she’s finished, she steps out of the tub and on to the bath mat. She wraps a towel around her body and one around her hair to prevent any dripping on the carpeting. She brushes her teeth and makes sure her eyebrows are well-groomed. She looks in the mirror and is pleased with the results. Her skin has that after scrub glow and she feels smooth to the touch. She smells like black currant vanilla, one of her Lady’s special favorites. She applies lotion of the same scent to ensure the smell lingers, careful to rub it everywhere so that her skin remains milk soft for her Lady’s pleasure. As always, she wishes to appeal to all of her Lady’s senses. And it is with this desire for her Lady’s pleasure in mind that she completes the grooming ritual. She neatly hangs her towel up to dry, cleans out the grey porcelain of her Lady’s bathtub, and returns to the bedroom to dress.
To her surprise, her Lady is waiting, and she has laid out clothing for Her slave on the bed. This is unusual. Her Lady generally only selects Her slave’s outfits when She has a desire to play dress up or wishes her dressed a certain way when they are going out to play. However, according to her Lady, they will be going shopping. She needs a new red dress and shoes for the evening. Her slave is excited that they will be shopping for Her. She so rarely treats herself and She deserves it. She’s always thinking of others before herself.
The Lady smiles at her slave and arches an eyebrow. The girl squirms, once again. She’s certain her Lady’s eyes can see inside her heart and mind. Under her Lady’s hand, she has grown out of the urge to cover herself and the need for the carpet to swallow her whole. She still has to fight the urge to fidget, especially as she knows her Lady prefers her to stand still.
She is not there for a minute before a hold is taken of her hair and she’s taken down to her knees. Her Lady walks rapidly, and she has to crawl quickly to keep up with Her. Although the girl cannot see, the Lady smiles, amused by the way her hips wiggle as she moves, petlike, to keep pace. She’s led down the stairs and into the basement, where the couch has been covered by stretcher sheets and the table has clearly been prepared, with what the girl cannot see. Her Lady pats the couch and the girl obeys the wordless command. She climbs up and perches back on her heels. Her eyes adjust to the darkness; the white paneling of the walls comes into focus, and her nostrils fill with the familiar scent of Her, of that space.
She pats a spot on the floor and the girl kneels.
“Lay down, pet,” She commands, and, instantly, She is obeyed. The girl lays down and does not resist as her Lady pulls her legs apart.
“Are you ready?” she asks.
Ready for what? The girl does not know, but it hardly matters. She is ready now. She is always ready. If it pleases her Lady, there is nothing she wouldn’t do. It does not even occur to her to think that these words frequently preface tremendous pain. And today will be no different. Still, pain seems inconsequential when compared to her Lady’s pleasure.
She is surprised to feel cold between her legs. It precedes the brief moment of painful insertion and fullness.
“No lube I felt was necessary, I knew my dirty little whore would take it for me regardless,”
“Yes Ma’am,” she replies. Take what? Clearly something has been inserted, but the girl has no idea what. All of a sudden she jumps as she feels intense vibration. It catches her by surprise as it stimulates THAT spot. She moans as the vibration grows stronger and stronger, edging towards release…
“If it pleases you, Ma’am, may your…” but as she begins to beg, sensation stops, and the girl is left to breathe through the pressure and fullness of unreleased ache. Everything has happened so quickly. Device inserted. Sensation applied. Sensation removed. She can’t even think about the hows and whys? What has she inserted? How has she controlled it? What is she going to do?
As her Lady uncovers the supplies on the table, the question answers itself. Medical supplies and a 3.0 suture have been laid out like surgical implements. And the girl’s mind comes to rest upon a threat her Lady had once made.
“I’m going to put something in you, sew you shut, and take you out like that.”
As with so many things, the threat is about to become a reality. The girl whimpers a bit in thinking about how painful being sewed shut will be. She finds any sort of pain inflicted on her delicate bits to be intense. Sutures will be…she shudders, but instantly lets go of the fear. It is Her pain, after all, Her will, and therefore not to be fought. She closes her eyes and tells herself that pain and fear mean nothing, all that matters is her Lady’s pleasure. She lets go of every thought but this. She closes her eyes and immerses herself in Her. In her pleasure. In the scent of her, that reminds the girl that she is home. In the twinkle in her eyes as her sadistic need is fed. In the way She hums as she sews and the blood begins to flow.
“Don’t forget to breathe girl, you know this will hurt.” With that, she begins, and the girl’s world reduces down to the stinging pain as the suture is inserted and slowly pulled through the flesh of her labia. The girl quiets and focuses her mind away from the intensity of the pain and towards Her pleasure. Relax. Accept it. It is her desire and her will. It hurts Intensely so. And she sews slowly. With purpose. The tears fall and form, but the girl does not resist. She opens herself to the pain, allows it to flow through her. She is Hers. Her property. Her toy. Therefor Her pleasure and to fill Her needs. At the moment, her sole purpose is to be stitched for her Lady’s amusement. To suffer at her hand. Suffer she does, and amused She is. She, indeed, hums softly as she sews, smiling as the needle dulls and the sting grows sharper. As the girl’s tears flow harder. As she sees her little flower close up its petals, hiding away the little jewel she has placed inside. As her glee becomes tangible. Oh the fun she will have today.
“Ok kitten, all set. Go on upstairs and get dressed. Your clothing is on the bed.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” she replies. Her voice a throaty whisper. Her Lady smiles to hear the pain She has inflicted manifest itself in her body. The girl’s cunt is throbbing. The sting of the needle has been replaced by the dull ache and stretching of the sutures as they pull. Soon she will feel a sharper sting as her own body betrays her, and the stitches fill with the acidity of her own wetness. Reminding her that she, her body, everything she is, everything she has is Hers. Her property. A toy to facilitate her further amusement.
“Hurry up now, I’ll be waiting for you at my desk.”
Quickly, quietly, the girl makes her way up the stairs. The stitches pull, a subtle reminder of her place. She cannot help but release a soft moan as she steps first her right leg, then her left, into the ruffled panties her Lady has laid out. Just stiff enough to be irritating to the tender bits that have been so thoroughly used. Her Lady’s clothing choice is equally deliberate. A restrictive pencil skirt hobbles her further, ensuring she cannot spread her legs too far. There will be no relief from the ache. She will suffer because it is her Lady’s will. For as long as she so chooses to have it so. Each step, each shift of her knees, each fidgit, each tiny motion will serve to give her Lady’s pleasure as the stitches will pull and her cunt will throb. Not so different from the every day, where each gesture, each though, each move she makes is executed with her Lady’s pleasure in mind. Merely externalized. And facilitated by her Lady’s fantasies come to life.
She finishes dressing, fixes her hair neatly, and quickly applies makeup as she wishes to represent her Lady well. She is loveliness incarnate in her dress and heels, and her slave wishes to ensure that she does her justice. However, her desire to turn her Lady’s property out well is balanced with the need for expedience. Her Lady is ready and the girl knows she does not like to be kept waiting. And there is still the business of readying her belongings and ensuring her Lady will have all she needs. She makes her way down the stairs, and gasps as she feels the strong vibration between her legs. Her senses flood with pain? pleasure? Both? All she knows is it is intense.
The stitches throb. Her pleasure button is pushed over and over again, thanks to her Lady’s strategic placement of the device. The combination is intense, and there is no relief for the sensations, save her Lady’s mercy. She begins to moan and pant, with pleasure, with pain, with the sense of what it is to be Hers. Her dirty little whore, so close to cumming for Her, even with her pussy sewn shut. This thought supercedes pleasure and pain. She is Hers. Her slave. Her toy. Her property. The realization once again brings her to the verge.
“If it pleases you Mi’Lady….”
And once again it is stopped. Pain floods her senses, just as both knew would happen. The vibration and her wetness are a potent combination. Her head spins, her eyes glisten with tears.
“Hush girl, there will be none of that today. I expect my slave to conduct herself like a proper young lady, regardless of the circumstance. We will be shopping in fine stores, perhaps having lunch or tea. You will not embarrass me today and you will reveal to no one that I am doing naughty things to you. What’s more, you will not cum without my permission. And of course, I expect to be served in a manner that befits a Lady regardless of what might be happening between your slutty little legs. Understood?”
Her Lady smiles to hear the concern in her voice. Her slave is a responsive little thing. One of the reasons that tormenting her brings her so much delight. She will be able to focus and hold her reactions in check. Of this, the Lady is certain. But it will take every ounce of her will to do so.
The second piece of her command: “you will not cum without permission,” she has added to ensure the girl will fail. She knows that when the girl is in that headspace of surrender, she has no control over what her body does. Perhaps if her Lady said, “stop,” it might be another matter. Just as she can make the girl cum on command if she wishes it. But she will not. She enjoys setting her up to fail. Pushing that button and the need she has to give her Lady perfection. To constantly remind her that she will fall short. Mess up. Fail. Disappoint. It is one of her biggest fears in the context of her service. And one of her Lady’s greatest sources of sadistic pleasure.
As if reminding the girl of how difficult her task will be, she shakes the remote, carefully concealed in her right hand, and the device buzzes to life. The girl’s eyes open wide, but she bites her lip to keep from crying out. Her heart rate increases, her breathing, though quiet, grows shallow and quick. Delicious, her Lady thinks as she watches her slave carefully collect her things, attempting to focus solely on her service and on fetching the things her Lady will need for the day. She smiles, that sadistic catlike smile as she watches her poor little slave process through pain and pleasure and aches. She kneels and presents her Lady with her purse, and her cleaned sunglasses. With hands emptied and her task completed, there is nothing left to do but experience the intensity of sensations. Pleasure and pain are equally intense and equally dangerous given her Lady’s orders. She wills her mind to focus solely on her Lady’s needs. Her lips quiver. Her shoulders shake.
“Up you go girl.”
The order is given and the girl follows the Lady out to the car. The sensation does not stop its assault on her poor pussy until she has opened and closed the door and her Lady is situated in the driver’s seat.
She says nothing as the girl carefully climbs into the car, attempting not to wince as she is forced to take a wide step and sit.
“Off we go,” her Lady simpers and, with a smile pregnant with sadistic glee, she pulls out of the
driveway and into the road.
They soon arrive at the downtown boutique, small, but elegant, and situated in an old Victorian-style brownstone. Seas of purples and blues frame the doorway and the trees slowly rustle in the mid-morning breeze. A welcome fit for a queen, the girl thinks as they step inside. She cannot help but blush as she drinks it all in. The marble floors, the soft music, the abundance of sterling roses. The cases full of jeweled accessories, polished to streak-free perfection. The regal chaise, strategically placed in the center of the store immediately draws the eye. Its gilded edges and fine silk brocade taunt the girl, hyperconscious of her full and aching cunt, of her station, of her place. A little nothing, a mere piece of property, no different than the haute couture that her Lady currently peruses. How small she feels in contrast to her surroundings. Like the cinder girl at the prince’s ball, hyperconscious of her calloused feet and her dishpan hands; worried that someone will spot a speck of dirt beneath her nails or the hint of a low country accent.
Her Lady strolls by each display against the wall. And the girl watches as she isolates each piece, inspects each seam, each bit of beadwork, the quality of the fabric. The girl says nothing as she trails behind her and slightly to her right, watching to see if and when her Lady will hand back her purse or an item for her to hold up. Her attendant, her servant, her slave. There to care for her. There to provide her pleasure through the simple fact of her existence. There to suffer silently. Every so often she feels a quick jolt between her legs, which floods her senses with pain, reminding her that she has been stuffed and sewn, like a thanksgiving turkey for her Lady’s pleasure and amusement. But neither make mention of her state. The Lady walks, the girl attends, providing her opinion when it is requested of her, observing with the watchful eye of a 20th century bookkeeper.
“May I suggest something that would look lovely with your coloring,”
The saleswoman’s voice startles the girl. And a second startle follows soon. The girl’s eyes grow wide as she feels the vibration begin again in earnest. She bites her lip to keep quiet and stands stone still, willing herself with every fiber of her being to ignore the pain that has flooded her senses and the wetness she can feel gathering. She focuses on the pleasantries that her Lady exchanges with the woman, lest she be asked to contribute to the conversation. She shivers slightly as she thinks of her Lady’s casual menace. There she stands, listening intently, admiring the hand sewn and dyed lace and the intricate details of the overlay. Caring nothing for the girl’s mortification or her extreme discomfort. She is the very picture of serenity and poise. For a moment the girl is stricken with fear that her Lady has forgotten that her g-spot and her thoroughly used cunt are being assaulted with vibration at the highest setting. Little beads of sweat form on her hairline and above her lip. Her chest heaves. Yet she, too, maintains
maintains her composure and her poise, as her Lady has instructed and as she expects. She makes no noise. She does not fidget. If she were more obtrusive, a careful observer might notice her pain-glazed eyes, the little beads of sweat that have formed on her hairline or the shallowness of her breath. But the girl is careful not to draw attention to herself and, thus, the shoppers and sales staff alike pass her by without a second glance. She is shadow among substance. Far less interesting to regard than the rows full of finery in crimson, navy, and black.
Her Lady takes a backwards glance at Her slave and smiles at what she sees. Her slave, obeying Her to the letter of the law. She takes great pains to mask her distress. She stands still and, although not in position as she would be if they were out in the community, her Lady can see that she is at attention and her focus is on Her. She does not whimper or moan. She has not adjusted her gait to relieve the fire between her legs. But her Lady knows every atom. To Her, she is transparent as glass. She can see how hard the girl is working in the look of intense concentration that has come over her face. She can read her mortification in the flush of her cheeks and see how very concerned she is about her body’s ability to adhere to Her Lady’s command to avoid release. She can read the questions when they pop into her mind. “Do they know? Can they smell? Can they tell? Have I been a good enough girl to hide them as she expects?”
She has strategically ensured that the girl’s g-spot receives a steady stream of sensation. Just strong enough to fill her with ache without allowing release. Yet, intense enough to make the stitches in her lips twitch and pull. To ensure she feels the sting of irritation as the thread absorbs her moisture. She smiles, but does not relieve the girl’s distress as she follows the saleslady to a dressing room with a velvet curtain. Her attendant wishes Her well, hangs the clothing in a convenient spot and leaves the Lady and the girl in peace. They are alone.
“Poor pitiful little thing,” her Lady simpers as She smiles and turns up the intensity. Her teasing is barely audible, but the girl hears every word; experiences them in every fiber of her being. Her eyes widen as she notes the sadistic twinkling in her Lady’s eyes – the only outward sign She has, thus, far, showed, that Her hunger is building as Her slave’s condition grows worse.
How she is enjoying Her foreplay before the evening’s entertainment. How beautiful she is when she suffers so sweetly for Her pleasure and to fulfill her need. How sweet her doe eyes are as they become a window into her anguish. As her chest heaves and her breasts rise and fall. As her limbs begin to tremble slightly, almost imperceptibly. In Her mind’s eye, She sees an image of Her slave, both sets of lips dripping with blood. Tears streaming down her cheeks as she’s bitten, slapped, punched, taken to the edge of what her body can handle…and then beyond. To that place where she can no longer cry or scream. Where the little mews escape her lips as she lies broken at Her feet. Her property. Her slave. Her pomme de sang. Her every sense filled with Her. Aching to give Her everything She wishes. All that she is. Needing to give Her more, though her body is weary and bruised.
“Suffer for me, girl,”
“Yes Ma’am,” the girl’s whisper is just as throaty as the Lady’s own. In that moment Owner and slave are taken far away from the queue of dresses that await the Lady’s attention. But it’s only for an instant. Though Her need to ravage has been raised, the tiger must wait. Bide her time. Let the need build until it cannot be contained. Until they are in the privacy of her basement or her bedroom or wherever strikes the Lady’s fancy. Where the girl’s body can be stripped as naked as her soul. Where the goddess can be unleashed and pleased. Where She can visibly bind her and admire the fruits of Her labor.
With the tiger held at bay, the Lady switches off the device and turns Her attention back to the dresses that have been neatly arranged on a clothing rack. She tries on dress after dress and models them for Her girl who is touched by the sight of Her. She looks so beautiful, and too long She has waited to have the finery She deserves. The well-cut lines flatter Her beautiful body and accentuate the muscle on Her calves and arms. The red is a lovely complement to Her hair and eyes. The black hugs Her curves in all the right places. The silk on the purple is loveliness incarnate. The heels are heart stopping. The girl blushes and, momentarily, averts her eyes as she feels a second throb between her legs, independent of the vibration from the wicked little device. Even after all these years, the mere sight of Her Lady makes her wet. Can move her to tears. Reminds her that she is home. Arousal. Solace. Ache. Need. The same. Evidence that she is simply Hers.
After careful consideration, the Lady decides that all three are stunning and the heels are not to pass up. She takes a last look in the mirror and twirls a little to see the view from the back. She loves how the heels accentuate the elongated lines of her calves, and how the entire picture shows just the right amount of skin. She feels the goddess rise to the surface. It is good to have her there once again.
The Lady smiles as she catches a sideways glimpse of Her slave. She is smiling as she watches the Lady, normally so humble, admire herself in the mirror. The girl is captivated by Her beauty, true, but more by the totality of Her, as is evidenced by the renewed throbbing between her legs, but the sense of pleasure that fills her stems from the Lady’s own. From the way She carries herself. From the spring in her step. From the smile on her face. From the light in her eyes. She is reminded of an image from the last weekend they had spent at home. When her Lady had wished to be pampered and asked the girl to give her a facial and a massage. While they had casually chatted at first, the Lady soon fell quiet and immersed herself in the experience, and the girl quietly rubbed and stroked, willing her fingertips to convey every bit of relaxing energy and pleasure that they could to the Lady’s body. Tears formed in her eyes as the Lady slipped deeper into quiet and her body let go. As the stress melted from Her limbs and Dhe wrapped herself in a blanket of bliss. As she relished Her slave’s soft touch. Her occasional devoted kisses. The well-wishes for her pleasure conveyed in every brush of her fingertips.
“My sweet girl,” she thinks, and it raises the hunger within her. She wishes to cut, tear, and bite. She wishes to hear her little cries of agony. “Soon, soon,” she tells herself as the tiger stirs from slumber and gnaws at her belly.
She says nothing, but hands Her purchases to Her slave and walks towards the counter to pay.
The girl is careful not to allow the dresses to drag on the ground or to drop the shoes. Her purchases are carefully placed in garment bags, the shoes in an elegant gold and pink wrapping, reminiscent of the fine brocade. They are handed back to her and she follows her Lady out to the car.
Once the packages have been securely, her Lady arranges herself in the driver’s seat and her girl shuts the door behind her. She climbs into the car when instructed and quickly buckles herself in.
The road is bumpy and in need of repaving, and the girl whimpers as her stitched lips throb. She has been sewn for hours now, and the ache has only gotten worse. The sound is quiet, nearly imperceptible, but her Lady hears and smiles. Her slave, suffering for Her pleasure and at Her hand. In pain, but not complaining. Focused on her Lady’s pleasure and on Her needs.
Despite the pain, she has been on point with her service. In fact, it is almost frustrating. The Lady’s sadistic needs have been begging for release. The tiger, though quiet, is hungry and She can feel it. How She wishes to feed on her devastation. How She wishes to watch her as she struggles to control the tears that naturally form when she fails Her. She loves to torture her slave in this way, yet another form of reveling in who she is to the girl and the power she exerts over her. Oh, the ways She can play with the girl’s heartstrings. Just as the girl is Hers to build up and to teach, so she is there to be torn apart and fed on. To be the recipient of her Lady’s sadistic attention and of Her need to destroy. She is Her property, nothing but Her property, and yet it means everything to them both.
They drive in silence, neither one acknowledging the girl’s pain, though her Lady is intent on intensifying it.
“My god you are SUCH a slut,” she sighs without warning. Her Lady’s voice startles the girl from her reverie. Instantly, she is enveloped in a curtain of shame. Though she says nothing, the evidence is written in the crimson flush that now colors her cheeks.
“Seriously, the entire car smells like you,” She sneers. “I don’t know why I bother to take you anywhere. I should just leave you chained up in the basement like the little bitch in heat you are since you can’t seem to control yourself as befitting a young lady in public. May I suggest that before we sit down to lunch, you go into the bathroom and clean yourself…because if you embarrass me at the table, I assure you, you’ll regret it.”
The words hit the girl harder than a slap in the face. Harder even than the rubber strap that her Lady is so fond of. She whimpers in fear at the thought of causing her Lady even a moment’s displeasure. Her Lady is well aware that this is one of her deepest fears. She knows any consequences she would mete out pale in comparison to the actual act of disappointing her, and, yet, the threat serves as an incredibly effective way to raise that fear in the girl. She whimpers again and turns terrified eyes on her Lady, who is in the mood to destroy, and will offer no comfort to ease her suffering.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you, bitch, was that a yes Ma’am?”
Her Lady’s reply is cold and matter o’fact. She smiles, Her cat-who-ate-the-canary smile, as she watches the shiver travel from the base of the girl’s neck to her feet, leaving a trail of raised bumps on the exposed olive tapestry of her arms and legs.
“Yes, Ma’am.” she whispers, a bit louder, this time.
“Go on then,” her Lady points to the bathroom.
It is unlike Her to do so, but the girl does not even have the time to marvel at this irregularity. It’s meaning becomes instantly clear as she feels the intense throbbing begin once again. Once again, the Lady’s cruelty knows no bounds. She has been set up to fail as her Lady is so fond of doing. She begins to attempt to clean herself up, but as fast as she dries her glistening lips, so the vibration stimulates a new flow of her essence. And she is all too aware of how strong the scent of her sex is. Her Lady has informed her on more than one occasion, that it is powerful enough to fill a room. She, herself, has been left bound for hours, forced to confront this mortifying attribute first hand as her Lady’s ministrations have, in fact, filled the room with the scent of her ache for Her. Of her need. She begins to tremble as she worries, “have I cleaned up well enough…will she leave it running throughout the meal…will she permit me to go and clean up again? Will they all smell? Will I fail her…” the anxiety is far worse than the sting of the soap in her stiched lips. She takes a deep breath, squeezes her eyes shut, and bites the inside of her lip as she sprays her panties with the fine fragrance mist she keeps in her purse for emergencies.
She’s as dry as she’lll ever be…so she takes a deep breath and returns to find her Lady has been seated. She sips a glass of water as She calmly peruses the menu. She can feel Her slave before She sees her, and makes an almost imperceptible gesture with Her hand to indicate to the girl that she should sit. The girl sees and obeys, and has to fight the urge to cry out when she feels the hard seat make contact with her aching cunt. And, of course, her Lady, still in the mood to take, instantly turns up the vibration. The girl’s world is reduced to a whirlwind of pain.
“Decide what you’d like for lunch.”
Her Lady’s order is simple, and, yet, so pregnant with her cruelty. While she often takes pleasure in ordering for them both, today, She is going to make Her tormented girl carry on a polite conversation with their server while in a state of distress and wondering whether her body will betray her.
Soon, the moment she dreads is upon them, and, the server arrives at their table. Her Lady calmly places Her order, not revealing Her satisfaction. She knows her slave like the back of her hand, and she knows she has succeeded in her mission. Raise the fear of failing Her in her, add a splash of degradation and public humiliation and the girl has come unglued juuuust enough to give her what she wants.
“And for you?”
The girl hears the dreaded words. She offers a quick, almost pleading glance at her Lady whose own steely gaze is an effective message to the girl that she should hurry and do as she’s been told.
She looks up at the server and their eyes lock. And at that moment, as if planned, she feels the buzzing grow even stronger. The girl inwardly shudders. She can hear the buzzing….everyone can…she’s certain of it. She’s going to reveal the secret. She knows it. She attempts to focus on doing as her Lady wishes, and she does not lose her composure…but she feels her cheeks flushing crimson again.
“My dear are you alright?”
The question, so well intentioned, is like a death toll. She can feel her Lady’s look burning a hole right through her. Little does she know that despite the heat of that gaze, her Lady is high as a kite and all smiles inside. Finally, she has given Her enough ammunition to let the sadist fully out to play. The girl’s devastation is total, but she wills her strength to surface and forces her mind to push all thoughts but her Lady’s order out of her head.
“Yes, Ma’am, I am fine, thank you. May I please have…”
The girl does not even process the food on the menu. A choice comes out of her mouth and her eyes are already turned towards her Lady, silently begging Her forgiveness.
The server nods and smiles and walks away, and her Lady wastes no time. “Bad girl,”
Instantly the girl’s strength flees her. Her belly is full of ice water and there is a chill she can’t recover from flowing through her veins. The pain between her legs is nothing compared to the pain tearing at her heart. She wishes she could make it up to Her, right here, right now. Anything to make it right. Anything to be her good girl once again. The thought of giving her a moment’s distress is utter torture. And now, confronted with her worst fear, she must fight to compose herself to avoid exacerbating the situation and displeasing her Lady even further.
Such a simple torture her Lady has devised. Yet so intense. The girl will be well used mind, body, heart, and soul before this day is up. A sobbing puddle of devastated slave at her feet, just the way the sadist likes it.
“Your slave is sorry, Ma’am, she’s so sorry,” the girl begins to whisper, her need to make it right evident in her voice. “She’ll do anything to make it right, Ma’am, anything.”
“You will,” her Lady states. “Later.”
The word settles on her heart like an early frost. Later. Six simple letters. Two small syllables. So innocuous. Yet, so painful. She will be forced to carry the knowledge that she has displeased Her, disobeyed Her, failed Her until such time as her Lady allows her to release the pain in a flood of cleansing tears and profuse apologies. Until the slate is cleaned and she is her Lady’s good girl once more. Until she can curl up under her Lady’s feet, at peace in her place while her Lady revels in Her headspace. But this will not be until later. When, exactly, she does not know. Her appetite, slim to begin with, becomes nonexistent. But, once granted permission to eat, she forces herself to consume her lunch. She knows better than to add insult to injury and disobey her Lady twice.
Her Lady notes the girl’s efforts, and consents to allow her to be finished when the girl presents her plate for her Lady’s approval. She has eaten enough to carry her through the evening’s activities, and, while on a normal day, She might have instructed the girl to eat more, She is anxious to return to the house and put Her carefully laid plans into action. A simple nod of the head tells the girl all she needs to know. Her Lady takes care of the check and gives a wordless command for Her slave to follow to where they will retrieve the car. No words need passing between them. She knows her Lady’s meaning as clearly as if She had spoken aloud.
“Pathetic little whore,” her Lady sneers as soon as the door closes behind the girl and they pull out of the parking lot. She smiles as the girl’s shoulders curl and her face pales. “Useless girl, I warned you, didn’t I, I specifically told you NOT to embarrass me, and you couldn’t even obey the simplest of orders. I was right, earlier. I should definitely leave you chained up with a little dog bowl while I’m out as you are clearly unfit to accompany me into polite society. You’re just a filthy dirty girl who can’t control her filthy pussy…even when her Owner stresses the importance of proper behavior.”
How badly the girl wishes she could disappear into the seats. How badly she wishes she’d be struck dead right on the spot. Instantly, she begins to sob.
“Ma’am your slave is sorry, she’s so sorry.”
“What did I say?” her Lady hisses. “I told you later. You disobey me again…shows how sorry you are.”
And with that, the girl is simply beyond speech. She cries inconsolably. Success! Her Lady is positively delighted. She says nothing more on the short drive back to the house. She simply revels in the sweet music She has produced.
They pull into the driveway and, with that, her Lady spits, “good god, you are such a fucking drama queen. For the love of god, stop your crying. you’ll only make yourself ugly and disgrace yourself further by disobeying me a third time. Bad little girl or not, I want you looking your best tonight, just as I will be. Can’t have you embarrassing me…again, now can I?”
“N…no, Ma’am.” the girl stammers and the Lady smiles at the smallness of her in that moment. She is nearly defeated. Nearly. But not quite where her Lady wants her just yet.
“That’s right,” her Lady smiles, a knowing smile and the girl instinctively whimpers as she realises that her suffering is far from over. “A lady, such as myself, deserves only the best of everything. That was all I wished for today, fine clothes, a pleasing lunch, and an obedient slave to tend to my needs as is her job. Of course I’ll have to settle for two out of three. Go on and put my things away.”
“Yes Ma’am,” the girl’s voice has shrunk to the size of a whisper, but even in her misery, she reacts instantly to her Lady’s command. To the expression of Her need. Carefully, she takes the packages and the dresses and carries them upstairs to her Lady’s bedroom. It is HER space, her own private sanctuary, and the girl, too, finds it more peaceful than anywhere else in the large house, simply because it is Hers. The soothing purples, the elegant cherrywood, the scent that reminds her that she is home, as strong as it is when she is at her Lady’s feet. The scent is oddly comforting to her, despite her state of turmoil, and the act of tending to her lady’s finery is centering. She feels herself begin to relax as she neatly stacks the shoe boxes and organizes the dresses, taking care that they don’t wrinkle or catch on the hangers.
Without warning, she gasps. The buzzing has begun again in earnest. Her swollen lips ache. Her headaches. Her heartaches. The buzzing is a cruel reminder of her earlier disobedience. And to make matters worse, with all of her tasks completed, the sensation seems oddly heightened. Though as yet unnoticed, the sexual urge has been building between her legs all day. And she cannot help but notice that the pain of stimulation seems oddly charged with the sensation of a different sort. Her heart begins to pound as she feels Her presence, the strong grip at her throat, and the hot breath on the back of her neck. She’s pushed up against the edge of the bed and lets out a startled little cry as she feels her Lady’s hands at the button of her skirt.
She is soon divested and shivers as the cool of the room meet her flushed and slightly damp skin. Her legs are kicked apart and her eyes grow wide and glaze with the pain of her stitches pulling even further. She feels the knee strategically positioned before she sees her Lady’s cold grin. She trembles at the thought of what she knows is inevitable. “No, god, please no, let me exercise some restraint. Please, god, don’t disobey Her a third time.”
But her Lady is the maestro when it comes to plucking those strings as well. There’s not an inch of Her property She doesn’t know or can’t bend to Her will. The girl begins to cry in earnest before the thrusting begins. Though she dare not beg Her to stop, indeed the thought of saying no in any iteration is like poison to her, she cannot hide the terror and dread in her face.
“Your slave doesn’t want to disobey you Mi’Lady,” she sobs and trembles as her cunt instantly responds to the Lady’s teasing. The urge builds and builds, equal to the pain of the intense vibration. Over and over the little device assaults her g-spot. The girl’s eyes begin to roll back in her head. “Oh god, please, Ma’am, your slave really, really, really doesn’t want to disobey you.”
“Then don’t,” her Lady replies. Her desperation only adds fuel to the fire. The girl will get no pity here. Her Lady wants her broken. And third disobedience will accomplish this for sure. She smiles as she presses her knee strategically against the girl’s cunt. She can feel the throb. Feel the heat. Smell the essence of her. And She has no doubt She will soon win. She always does. There’s no way the girl can stop herself. Her body is in no way hers. Every inch of it belongs to red queen. Every centimeter is owned, every molecule, claimed. She has no more control over what her body does than she would a speeding train. And stopping either would be equally impossible.
She wails, utterly defeated as she feels the release shudder through her body. And with that her devastation is complete. Her Lady removes Her knee from between the girl’s legs and smiles as her little slave crumbles to the ground.
“What on earth is wrong with you today, girl? Disobeying me three times? Have you forgotten what you are and the unquestioning obedience you owe me? Clearly you need reminding of your place.”
Her steps are lively and light as she makes her way through the garage. Her arms filled with the packages she is excited to wrap, her nostrils with the scent of cinnamon, ginger and cloves, and her head with visions of familial harmony. Silent Night has been playing in the mall and she hums it as she walks. She is always happy this time of year and even though she is grown now, she has not lost her appreciation for the magic of the season. It’s not only her own family that seems to behave better in the weeks and months leading up to Christmas day. But the world just seems a little more festive. A little brighter. People seem to behave less ugly toward one another. They merge civilly and smile more. They seem…hopeful. It means something to her.
The hour is late and it’s cold even in the covered garage and her breath hovers cloudlike about her lips. This amuses her, enough to make her giggle. She is so like a child at times.
She reaches the car and opens the back door, still humming as she arranging her packages neatly on the floor. She does not notice the hooded figure quietly approach. Nor does she know that she’s been followed for hours. Having grown up in New York. She’s walked at ungodly hours in some of the city’s worst neighborhoods without incident or problem. She is generally street smart and knows to stay frosty when walking along in a covered parking lot…but at Christmas time she’s a sitting duck. Prone to a wandering mind and a happy heart she sees only the good.
She gasps and her brown eyes widen as a strong arm quickly covers her mouth. She feels the pressure of cold steel against her exposed throat. For a moment she is frozen in her fear…a split second, but long enough to feel pulled back against the body of the hooded figure and she whimpers and shivers as she feels hot breath wash over her left ear. It smells like peppermint and coffee, an odd realization perhaps but her senses are heightened in her fear. She feels dragged backward and she drops the last few packages as she attempts to pull away, biting and clawing frantically at the arm that holds her. Her struggle is ineffective. The figure is strong. Much stronger than she and her fear seem only to amuse her.
The struggle becomes desperate as comprehension dawns on her. They are headed towards a large box truck with a padlocked door and she fights her captor with increased vigor. Still, the figure says nothing, confident in her success, she merely presses the cold steel into the girl’s throat a little harder and the girl feels a small trickle of wetness run down her neck and pool in her cleavage. It’s warm. A stark contrast to the cold night air. She attempts to scream and feels her air supply cut off by the black sweatshirt. This quiets her enough to make it easy for the hooded figure to slam the back door of the truck shut.
“Now then, my dear, I’m going to release you, but if you scream I’m going to cut out your tongue. Understand?” the command is menacing and oddly emotionless and the girl does not doubt its sincerity, perhaps because the sharp blade is now tracing its way along the long lines of her neck, up towards her chin and to her covered lips. Tears fill her eyes and she nods frantically, desperate to show this person she will comply.
“That’s a good girl,” the praise is taunting but the girl doesn’t care. A moment of relief as she is released and she feels breath flood her nose and mouth once again. But relief is short-lived. She has been taken and locked in the back of this truck for god knows what purpose. She knows nothing apart from this. She has been taken, and whoever it is, she or he is in complete control of her fate. The hooded figure advances and the girl, trembling, cannot stop instinct from taking over. Frantically she backs away from the figure’s slow and casual advance. She however is utterly unconcerned by the girl’s ill fated attempts at escape. She knows she has her trapped, like a rat in a maze. Nowhere to go. No escape. No option but to follow the path that has already been laid out for her.
“Where you going sweet pea?” once again she is taunted. The figure’s voice is muffled by the hooded sweatshirt and the mask she is wearing to conceal her features and sounds oddly androgynous. She whimpers and freezes in terror once again as she feels herself trapped by the back of the truck. Instinctively she curls up into a tight ball, pressed tightly against the wall of the truck, silently wishing she could disappear into it. Her heart is racing. She trembles so hard she is positive she will break in two.
The figure stares down at her and though the girl can’t see it, can’t even see that she is a she, her eyes are dancing with hunger and her sadistic smile is wide. Sunglasses cover her eyes and her mouth is obscured by her clothing. She is dressed in black from head to toe and every inch of her body is covered. No distinguishing features. And the girl is too blinded with fright even to take notice of her stature. Is she tall or short? The girl isn’t sure. From her position on the floor, the figure seems eight feet tall.
“How kind of you, you’ve made my job much easier,” the figure sneers as she grasps her hair and shackles her around the neck in one quick, seemingly effortless move. Her wrists are then grabbed and she is shackled by the wrist and then the ankles in a similar fashion. The metal is cold. Like the knife blade. Her heart is beating so quickly she is certain it will explode.
Her terror becomes even more urgent and she is sure she’ll wet her pants when she sees a dark stain on the wood floor of the back of the truck that looks suspiciously like blood. Tears begin to sparkle on her eyelashes and drip slowly down her cheeks.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she begs. Her eyes wide and imploring. Her color pale. Her cheeks stained with tear tracks.
Once again that sadistic laughter. “Awww, how sweet,” and then a sharp pinch and a prick as a needle is inserted into her neck and though she tries to fight it her eyelids grow heavy and soon close. The back door is slammed shut and locked and soon “Silent Night” wafts in from the radio playing in the front seat. Indeed an odd sort of detail to take comfort in as her body surrenders to the drug cocktail that’s been injected into her jugular and she hears the motor purr to life, but it’s better of course than focusing on the alternative.
Her head pounds as her eyes flutter open and light assaults her pupils. Her body is heavy. So heavy she cannot move her arms and legs. No. Wait. She knows that sensation. The bite of rough hemp around her wrists and ankles and the familiar tightness of plastic wrap holds her still. In another context this would be incredibly hot for her. Bound and helpless, dinner nicely wrapped and served bloody and rare for her Lady’s pleasure. But she has her bearings enough to see that she is not in safe surroundings. Not in the quiet sanctuary of her Lady’s home nor is she mummified to a pole at the club that has come to feel like a second home. No. Wherever she is, it is hostile and forbidding and sterile. Emotionless steel. The smell of decomposition makes her feel queasy. Perhaps it is all a big mindfuck. Her Lady after all has said she’d be abducted at some point, and of course they share an affinity for creepy and forbidding places, but a nagging voice in the back of her head tells her this is not the case. Perhaps it is the drugs that have been injected so unceremoniously into her neck. Perhaps it was the casual ease with which the figure has spilled her blood…
She wiggles a little, testing the strength of her bonds, and she has to fight back tears when she realizes that they hold firm. It seems a cruel irony—how she loves being helpless and vulnerable to her Lady’s will and whim but helpless here for the sake of an unknown stranger’s casual menace with her fate uncertain. ..she is no cherished slave here. No she is merely a piece of meat. An object. A means for whoever has taken her to get his or her sadistic rocks off before disposing of her lifeless corpse. The thought terrifies her. Holy fuck! Where is she? It is dark and the wet cold chills her to the bone. As she turns her head to the right she sees a silver tray lined with various implements for cutting and slicing. Knives, scalpels, and some she does not recognize. Some whose purposes she cannot determine. One or two still have dried blood on the blade. All of them seem menacing. The seriousness of her predicament sets in she begins to hyperventilate, and then to scream, as she pulls desperately at her bonds.
A leather-gloved hand is clasped firmly over her mouth and the scent of blood fills her nostril. That it terrifies her is an irony crueler than her reaction to the mummification. Her eyes widen and her body goes rigid as the bloody glove applies pressure to drown out the sound of her screams. Her breathing becomes more frantic as she erupts in muffled sobs.
The figure in black says nothing as she reaches over to the tray and retrieves an object that the girl is intimately familiar with: a curved needle with a trail of thread already attached. She removes her gloved hand from the girl’s mouth and runs the sharp edge of the suture needle along her bottom lip.
“Your screaming is growing tiresome,” the voice is cold. Eerily emotionless. The girl begins to struggle frantically, the rope bites her flesh and draws blood. “And since you can’t seem to shut yourself up, I suppose it’s up to me. Isn’t it?”
“P…please,” the girl begins to beg but she stops as soon as she starts. Even though the figure’s eyes and face are still obscured, she can see that whoever she or he is, she is utterly unmoved by her distress. In fact, it seems to excite her as she breathes like one aroused.
The proximity of the needle to her face prevents her from seeing exactly how it is done. She feels a sharp, stinging, popping sensation as the needle enters the skin above her top lip. The thread swims through her skin and exits through the skin under her bottom lip. The sensation in intense, far more so than pricking one’s finger with a regular sewing needle and fear makes her flinch.
“You’re going to want to hold still now, and I think perhaps you should rethink screaming. It will only be unpleasant for you.”
Her eyes water after every complete stitch and the process is completed five times until each stitch is in place but untied. The figure then begins working from the first stitch again, pulling the thread tight, tying each one-off in the middle. She works quickly and skillfully and after all five stitches are tied and trimmed the girl can no longer speak scream or move her mouth. She trembles and tears fall rapidly down her cheeks. The pain has been intense and without the context of pleasing her Lady to help her process, she has felt the intense agony of every single stitch. Her lips swell slightly and quickly become dry as she is unable to moisten them. There is only a minimal amount of blood. Stitched silent. Unable to speak, to smile or pout, to curl her lips or frown, she is reduced to pleading eyes in an otherwise blank face. She doesn’t even have the luxury of hand gestures. Her utter inability to communicate, to mitigate her fate if mitigation is at all possible is terrifying. She is forced to confront her utter helplessness. She can no longer beg, plead, or participate in the conversation at all. She is forced into passivity. Into helpless acceptance. In her Lady’s hands it is a state she would find comforting but here there is only terror. Deep and unsettling unease that shakes her to the core.
The figure approaches until she is standing at the edge of the table and strokes the side of her captive victim’s face absentmindedly. The girl shivers and tenses. Her instinct is to whimper and cry but she stops herself as soon as she feels the pull of the stitches in her mouth. Her eyes grow wide and her nostrils flare. Her breathing grows rapid and labored. Again she thinks of her Lady and how utterly bizarre it is that in another context she would probably be begging to cum…not exactly the release she thinks of begging for in this case.
“You know human beings are very funny creatures. We lead such privileged, sheltered lives. Cut off from our own pain. We seek to avoid suffering at any cost. It’s always seemed foolish to me. Suffering can be very instructive. “ She runs her thumb back and forth over the girl’s cheek as she speaks. “I’m going to give you a gift, a gift few are fortunate to receive…but you, darling girl, you are lucky. Today you’ll find out what your life is worth to you. How hard you’re willing to fight for it.”
The girl gasps and as pain floods her senses she instantly regrets it. Her captor breathes deeply, a satisfied smile spreading over her concealed face as she watches the girl’s face contort in obvious pain.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” the playful glee in her voice is as unsettling as the gentle petting which has now founds its way to her hair. Her captor speaks of torture as casually as one might discuss the weather forecast. “What are you willing to do to stay alive girl?”
“ You have no doubt noticed you’ve been stripped and bound and wrapped in plastic. I hope you’ll forgive me but I’ve given you a few more surprises in your sleep. In another minute or so you’ll begin to feel restless. Have you ever heard of Akathisia?”
The question is terrifying? And Wait…she’s…done things to her in her sleep? How violated she feels. Her body’s borders are no longer her own. Consent—a word rendered utterly meaningless. Choice and limits are not freely given up. They’ve been forcibly taken from her and she has no way to prevent it.
“Answer me bitch!” her captor’s playful tone grows instantly hard when she finds herself ignored and the girl whimpers and tenses in terror. She shakes her head vigorously no. Her compliance seems to soothe her captor for the time being, but it has taught her an important lesson. She has a temper and does not like to be ignored, nor does she want to give up any modicum of control. This is her show, her game, her rules. And the only option is to play or die.
“Well dear, akathisia is an intensely unpleasant feeling characterized by muscle discomfort, inability to sit still, continuous agitation, restlessness, and fidgety feelings. It’s a condition that often plagues psychiatric patients but, as is the case here, can be induced with anti-psychotic drugs. Often patients who suffer from it describe the feeling as a need to “jump out of their skin,” and in fact some have killed themselves by jumping or falling after episodes of behavioral hyperactivity where they ran or paced from door to door, tried to climb up walls and doors, tried to reach the nearest exit and get out through windows. Of course we’ve taken precautions against that.”
The girl tenses as her captor pats the tight plastic wrap covering her midsection. The touch is unpleasant and seems to linger on her skin. It begins to crawl slowly up her spinal cord and dances through the nerve endings on the insides of her arms and legs. She begins to wiggle and squirm. The crawling is unpleasant. Incredibly so. As if spiders are crawling through her veins and gnawing on her nerves. The need to get up. To get away. To go…anywhere…is overwhelming.
Her captor takes no notice of her victim’s increased distress. She continues with her speech, “others have complained of a screaming inside. Non psychotic patients have all of a sudden started clinging to their physicians while imploring them for help in what is best described as utter anguish….”
But the girl is no longer capable of ration thought or comprehension. All she can process is. “Get out! Get away! Get anywhere!” Sweat begins to roll down the sides of her face, stinging the little pin pricks where the sutures have cut through her skin, as she fights against her bonds. Her muscles strain and her captor shivers with pleasure as she watches the muscles and veins in her neck, arms and legs bupalge. Her torso tenses and contorts slightly. She is only able to lift herself about half an inch from the cold steel of the autopsy table.
Crimson stripes begin to appear In the natural hemp as the rope cuts deep into her skin. She claws desperately at her palms and drums her feet in the air. The need to run is consuming. The window, not so far away seems to taunt her with its inaccessibility. Bound as she is she can barely squirm for relief. Running is an utter impossibility. Begging too as she cannot speak without ripping the stitches from her lips. No relief, not even through screaming. No option but to suffer. Tears mingle with sweat and burn like acid in the corners of her mouth. She shakes her head vigorously as if to find some way, any way, to let the inexpressible scream out.
“So tell me sweetheart, is it as bad as they say?”
Through her delirium, she vaguely processes the question. But she cannot answer. She is beyond the ability to respond. All she can think about is getting up! Getting away! Getting out!
Beneath her sunglasses, her captor’s eyes growing stormy.
“It’s rude not to answer when you are addressed and questioned little bitch.
Clearly you aren’t paying attention. I’ll have to remedy that!”
The girl only vaguely processes the threat until she sees the knife. Her trembling intensifies and her need to get away increases tenfold.
“If I were you I’d stop your wiggling, dear,” her moment of anger has passed, she is the epitome of poised calm once again. She smiles as she traces the very tip of the knife slowly up the girl’s calf, up the length of her thigh and pussy, stopping at the girl’s hood. The girl’s color pales as she attempts to direct her energy towards staying still, a near-impossible task as every fiber of her being is screaming at her to run. Jump. Dance. Claw. Tear. Anything to take the anguish away. Her breath, rapid and shallow panting. Her nostrils flare. The whites of her eyes prominent. Her sweat is profuse and cold.
The girl’s obvious terror excites the shadowed figure and she feels herself growing wet. Fear turns her on. Her own. Her girl’s. Taking her pleasure and feeding her sadistic desires in the most visceral of ways excites her to fever pitch. She is a sadist in the truest form and sometimes she simply wants to hurt. To take. To force submission even when it would be willingly given. She feels the pressure of fullness and she thinks how good release would feel. For an instant she considers revealing all, freeing the girl from her bonds and commanding her to satisfy her hunger.
But there will be time enough for that and she has put much time and effort into the planning of this scenario. And it’s all going so well, it would be a shame to end it all now She wants to push her girl to the edge of what she can handle, emotionally and physically, and she has taken a great deal of care to ensure that her girl Is too terrified to realize she is indeed under her Lady’ hand and suffering for her pleasure. It is no small feat given that the girl is very much in tune to her Lady’s presence. Her scent. Her voice. Her touch. She has gone to great lengths to mask these things. But she knows the girl is in tune to her energy and once acceptance settles in, she will figure it out. She knows the knowledge that is has been she all along will soothe her when all is revealed and she knows her girl well enough to know that it will serve only to strengthen the trust bond that exists between them. For the moment, however, she wants her to feel unsettled. Pain. Terror. Uncertainty. She wants her helpless. Everything she is, everything she wants taken from her. No limits. No choice. Convinced that her options are to play or die. Confused as to why even though she believes herself in mortal peril her thighs are soaked and a puddle is rapidly forming between her own legs. The scent of the girl’s fear is intoxicating. She drinks it in heavily before slowly running the very tip of the knife along the terrified girl’s labia.
“You know in India, when a woman committed adultery, they used to punish her by stuffing her cunt full of hot pepper. While I liked the principle the image I think lacks a certain dramatic flair. I have remedied the problem by modifying it a bit. I have no doubt it will be effective in keeping your attention, bitch.”
Slowly she inserts the knife’s blade that she has coated in a cinnamon oil solution into the girl’s pussy and her entire body tenses as she processes the danger. One jump. One twitch. One ill fated attempt at escape and she will be cut to ribbons. Her terror is so intense she does not feel Her Lady slip the blade out, replacing it with a finger. Smiling at the evidence of her arousal. Terror has soaked her thighs. How easily she could fuck her to orgasm again and again, but of course that would ruin the scenario that she has so carefully constructed. Slowly. Meaningfully. She removes her finger and waits for the girl to process the new sensation. And it is not long before she does. The spiders are creeping and gnawing with increased vigor. Her lips throb. And now she is being burned alive from the inside out. She loses control of her scream and little droplets of blood begin to form where the stitches have pulled. Tears flow freely over her cheeks. She uses the knife to cut the plastic wrap and the rope that bind her to the table and takes a firm grasp of her hair as she pulls the girl off the autopsy table and drags her over to the corner where a small dog cage has been constructed. There is just barely room for her to curl up inside. Again in a different context this would be a source of great delight. But terrified and convinced as she is that she will jump out of her skin, that she needs to get up…get away at all costs, it is an additional source of agony to her as she is pushed inside. The door slams shut behind her and she hears the click of a padlock locked tight.
It seems incredible but even in her predicament sleep eventually finds her. Relief is sweet once the spiders leave her bloodstream and it lulls her into quiet. She is not asleep for long, however. Her eyelids soon flutter open and she’s terrified to learn that even though her eyes are open, she is shrouded in darkness. She startles when she realizes she’s wet…at least she thinks she does but her body does not move, even though she is no longer bound.
“Wiggle your fingers,” she gives herself a fright filled command and she is shocked when she discovers that her body refuses to obey. All she can feel is the knocking of her heart against her ribcage as it pumps furiously in her chest. It is confirmed. Her body has become utterly alien to her. The utter loss of control over even the simplest of movements makes her feel like a stranger in a strange land, a feeling that is exacerbated by the strange brackish dampness in the air. The silence is thick. Why is she wet? Why the fuck can’t she move? She trembles violently…at least she thinks she does, but she can’t be sure and the uncertainty is terrifying. She wants to cry again…can she cry? Is she dead? She’s not sure but she doesn’t think so. Why is this happening to her, why…and why does it feel as though she’s been flayed alive? A side effect of the drugs? Or has her skin in fact been removed? It’s very possible it has. After all she can’t see, she can’t feel. She feels a slight rocking and a gentle bobbing up and down. She is not in control of these sensations but they are at least, identifiable. Having grown up on an island the sensation is familiar.
She is floating in water, alone. Nothing but her thoughts to keep her company. She can’t move. She assumes its salt water as her lips are stinging something fierce. What is keeping her afloat? What if she tires? She can’t move. Will she drown in the brackish water instead of in the sea of her own terror. Her head and body are filled with an inexpressible scream. The inability to release her fear is driving her insane…she is certain it will eat her alive from the inside out. How long has she been here? Has it been hours? Days? How long will the cat and mouse game entertain her tormentor? How much longer does she have? How much will she be forced to endure and will she be killed or set free when all is said and done? How will s/he do it? Will it hurt? Will she be afraid? Will she plead? Will she fight? Will she simply accept the inevitable? Don’t think about that! She forces herself to push the thought out of her mind. How she wishes she could kick her legs or flail her arms. Hell at this point she’d even take the wiggling of a pinky. Anything to quiet the ghastly, creeping torment. But she can’t move. Her body has betrayed her. She is a brain in a bathtub. Nothing but her own terror to keep her company. How badly she wants to, needs to thrash, flail, free herself from this state of suspended animation but fate is cruel. She can’t. She tries to but she can’t. And Her body refuses to comply. And the searing pain. God it burns. It fucking burns. Agony and anguish are insufficient to describe it. Is something nibbling on her toes? Wait…what? Toes? She’s gone insane, she’s certain of it.
Suddenly a noise pierces through the emptiness, quieting the panicked voice in her head. It is the voice of her captor, but in the state of terror she’s in, any sort of interaction that gets her out of her own head is welcome.
“Horror vacui, have you heard of it? Since you can’t speak or shake your head I’m going to assume the answer is no. Literally it translates as the fear of empty space. In physics it refers to the principle that the universe abhors a vacuum and in art Mario Praz, used it as an explanation for the suffocating and seemingly cluttered atmosphere of Victorian interior design. It’s not surprising that many examples of horror vacui in art come from, or are influenced by the mentally unstable. Also not surprising given that a few hours confronted with the fear is said to be enough to drive anyone crazy. ..especially when they’ve been injected with prolixin and turbocurarine before being subjected to sensory deprivation.”
Prolixin? Turbocurarine? What are they? More drugs? What do they do? Is that why she feels as though she can’t move? As though she’s been chemically flayed alive? Is this in fact what been done to her…has she in fact been injected with psychotropic drugs? Where is she? What is happening to her? Why the fuck can’t she scream?! In her head she’s thrashing madly but her body remains eerily still. Will she be rescued in time or is she destined to die?
“And just so you don’t think me terribly cruel I’m going to give you something to think about while we wait for the drugs to wear off. I’ve got to go out for a bit but when I return we’re going to play a little game. One of my favorites, actually, fairly self explanatory. It’s called death or pain. Ta Ta deary, do try and enjoy your meditation time.”
And then there is silence…well save for the screaming in her head. Death or pain…what the fuck? Is this it for her? What will happen? She knows she has a high tolerance for pain but that is of course in controlled circumstances and at Her Lady’s hand. Here at the hands of a madman or woman whose only interest is in her suffering…can she withstand? She’s always wondered what it would be like to be really tortured…what would her response be? Would she beg for mercy and give in to whatever it is that they wanted or would she be stoic and brave? She knows that the human tolerance for pain in situations of distress can be quite high…but of course she’s only experienced this in controlled settings. And the circumstances here are different. This is not simply distress, this is mortal peril. Will she be mutilated? Does it matter if she is to die anyway? Is the game winnable at all?
“Oh God help…please, someone…anyone help!”
Death or Pain
Has it been minutes, hours, or days? The girl is not sure. She’s been floating in brackish water with no sensory input long enough for time to have ceased to mean. Left to ponder her fate the words death or pain have stuck in her head and they have turned her veins to ice. She’s freezing and terrified, even though the water is far from cold. Suddenly she hears a creaking followed by a loud crash. She jumps…OMG she jumped! Her body actually moved. She begins to kick and flail wildly in the water. With fear. With relief…she isn’t sure which but she doesn’t care. The release is powerful and she’s grateful for the ability to do so. The tears she’s wished she could shed stream rapidly down her face, and just as fast as they flow she blinks them away. Simply because she can. She feels herself lifted by the hair and thrown on the bitterly cold concrete floor. Instantly her nipples harden, her teeth chatter and her hair stands on end. The contrast between the water and the surface of the floor is astounding. Like an unexpected slap in the face.
“Okay sweatpea, let’s get you back on the table,”
That poised calm is unsettling and for a moment fear takes over. She flinches when she feels her captor grab at her hair and begins to back away from her. She knows she is simply prolonging the inevitable…she still can’t see and she doesn’t know the layout of the room and she can’t move very fast. Still, she can’t help herself. Once again she backs away. Her movements are cautious and uncertain. She is not followed. Her Lady stands still, a bemused smile playing about her concealed lips, the girls awkward, terrified crawling heightens her vulnerability, and whets Her Lady’s appetite to hurt.
“While I must say that’s adorable, my patience is growing thin. I’m beginning to grow angered by your resistance and I can assure you, my dear, you do NOT want to see me angry. Be a good girl now and stay still,” she advances towards the girl who can not stop herself from backing away, searching desperately with her hands for any nook or cranny that will put her out of harm’s reach. But fate is not on her side.
“Okay, have it your way,” her captor sighs as she grabs hold of the girl by the hair, pushes her down on the floor and steps down hard on her hair. She begins to slap her face repeatedly and hard. Her teeth Unexpected pain floods her senses as her teeth rattle and her swollen lips throb. A wave of nausea sweeps over her and she sees stars on the backs of her eyelids. Once again the girl’s abdomen and chest rise and fall rapidly and then her body goes limp. She is dragged along the floor by her hair and her body becomes a textured landcape of raised bumps as she feels herself hoisted up and onto a hard surface even colder than the floor. She hears the sounds of ripping and tearing.
Her eyes widen and her limbs go rigid as she feels pinching at her nipples and gentle stroking of her cunt. The touch reignites the unpleasant crawling on her skin. Reminds her of the ways in which she has been violate and the threat of things to come. She wiggles, a desperate attempt to pull away but once again her bonds hold firm. She can do nothing but accept the sensation. Please God, she thinks, please don’t let…
But before she can finish the fear in her head is given an external voice. “You know systematic rape has often been used as a highly effective subjugation technique. Armies have been doing it for centuries,”
The girl’s eyes flood as she feels sharp slapping where before there was gentle tracing. She has to bite down hard on her tongue to keep from attempting to scream and pulling at the stitches. Please let it be an empty threat, she thinks desperately. Please. Not here. Not like this.
“Funny. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying your predicament girl, how very odd. And here I thought you were suffering. I suppose we’ll just have to up the ante, won’t we?”
The thought disgusts her. It’s one thing to cum compulsively from the slightest brush of her Lady’s fingertips, the slightest inkling of her pleasure, but to be brought to arousal in these circumstances…she feels dirty. She shakes with shame and then breathes with relief when the sensation stops. But relief is only momentary. Who knows what could be happening? Not seeing , only feeling in this context is terrifying. She already knows her captor has “done things,” to her in her sleep. What else might she have done? What might she be doing that she isn’t aware of? And what might come next? Where has she gone? The sensation was bad. The lack of it is worse. It reminds her of the uncertainty of her plight.
Her Lady picks up the sharp blade and with one quick and confident stroke she cuts the stitches which have kept the girl silent. The girl feels a slight puff of air brush across her lips and gasps. Her success instantly clues her into what has happened. She has been freed. Her lips part and she sucks hungrily at the air, moistening her lips with quick, kittenish flicks. Relief is bitter sweet as she instantly recalls the name of the “game” she’s been told they will be engaging in. She begins to whimper and sweat. Another puff of air and light suddenly floods her pupils. Though she isn’t aware of it, she’s been hooded for days. She squints and squeezes her eyes shut. Light is painful. Her Lady smiles at the sight. The girl’s distress is intoxicating.
Searing pain in her left breast and then in her right elicits a piercing scream. Warm wetness flows down her torso. Her eyes eventually flutter open as she gasps at what she sees. A flash of silver, close to her skin. The glint of metal. Its shape indistinguishable. She cannot turn her head far enough to see what is missing from the tray of implements.
Casually her captor allows the blade to touch the delicate skin of her torso and she jumps. She has been anticipating torture and the slightest sensation terrifies her. She trembles as the blade is laid flat against skin. It’s cold at first but her body’s heat rapidly warms it. She trembles and cries as the blade is dragged along the edge along her stomach, barely grazing her flesh. Her breath quickens in terror and she screams as the point of the blade pokes playfully at her bellybutton.
“Please!” she sobs.
“Please what?” the response is cold and full of sadistic mirth, spoken as her captor traces the blade down towards her hips. The pressure is increased as it travels.
The girl tenses and sobs as she braces herself for the inevitable. She’s going to be cut. How badly how deep she doesn’t know. A white wall of fear paralyzes her. She has read countless stories of torture murder and the images flood her mind. Another cruel irony. How many dark fantasies have they inspired? In particular her special favorite—the Bathory murders. Will she suffer the same fate?
Her breath is heavy, her legs undulate and she grips the edge of the cold steel table for dear life as the blade is plunged into her skin. Fire floods her senses as her skin is split. The knife probes deeper into her scarlet flesh and she feels her veins opening . She cries as the metal rips and tears, forcing her open. She can not prevent the blade from swimming through her flesh. She simply lays there trembling. A sacrificial lamb. Ripe for slaughter…whimpering only encourages her captor. Her body quivers as she smells fresh blood. Out of the corner of her eye she sees the crimson slash which stretches from her left hip to her right. A spray of fluxive copper trickling playfully down her her inner thighs.
Although she cannot see it, her captor’s glee is tangible as she writes her pleasure in tiger like stripes on the girl’s bound body. Taped down as she is, she feels only searing lines of fire traveling the length of her torso, arms, breasts and legs as she is sliced and carved up, leaving rivers of blood to mark the places where her body has been carved like territories on a map. Sometimes her captor is methodical and slow. Sometimes it seems she slices and dices at random. The sensation is frightening in its intensity on the girl’s virgin flesh.
“Awww, you look like a candycane, how festive,” she taunts as she runs the blade along the girl’s cheek before tossing it casually aside. The girl trembles and tenses. Tortured little sobs escape her lips. They are ignored. Her captor smiles as silently she watches the girl bleed. She whimpers and pants attempting to calm herself by any means.
“You know in China death by cutting was a very popular execution method. In this form of execution, the condemned person was killed by using a knife to methodically remove portions of the body over an extended period of time. The process is a fascinating one. The condemned would be tied to a wooden frame, usually in a public place. His or her flesh would then be cut in multiple slices. And death was said to be slow and lingering, humiliating as it was done publically and damaging to the psychy as the body in pieces meant that the body of the victim would not be ‘whole’ in a spiritual life after death,”
The girl tenses and her mouth hangs open as the knife travels slowly up her torso and Her captor continues, “ the process begins with the torturer wielding an extremely sharp knife, much like this one, to put out the eyes of the torturer which of course means that the victim cannot see the remainder of the torture and, presumably, adding considerably to the psychological terror of the procedure. Afterwards rather minor but painful cuts are made to the face and body. Ears and noses are chopped off, tongues cut out, fingers and toes removed before the executioner proceeds to more severe cuts to thighs and shoulders. The entire process was said to last three days, and to total 3,600 cuts,”
As she speaks she casually runs the knife back and forth along the girl’s trembling lips and down the length of her damp left cheek. She screams as her captor takes a firm hold of the top of her left earlobe and tickles behind the cartIlage with the tip of the blade.
“Awwww you’re scared how sweet,” she simpers as she presses the blade into the tender flesh of her earlobe.
The girl’s crying becomes urgent.
“Awww princess I’m not going to cut it off…not now anyway. There’s so much fun to be had with my little dolly before I break her into pieces and throw her away,” her voice and her demeanor is gleeful as she steps away from the autopsy table and picks up an object that the girl is intimately familiar with. It’s a cane. Simple rattan and thin. A sob escapes the girl’s lips as the cane is slowly run up and down the soles of her bound feet.
“Foot whipping, variously known as bastinado is favoured as a form of torture because, although extremely painful, it leaves few physical marks, and of course unlike other areas of the body which become desensitized over time, the nerve endings in the bottoms of the feel continue to fire so that every stroke is as intense as the first. When used as a form of punishment, the prisoner may be immobilized before application of the beating by tying, securing the feet in stocks, locking the legs into an elevated position, or hanging upside-down. The Persian term falaka refers to a wooden plank which was used to secure the feet prior to beating.”
Each sentence is punctuated with a sharp stroke that makes the girl scream each time the cane impacts the tender flesh of her instep. She trembles and cries but her distress is ignored. Her captor continues:
“Foot whipping is effective due to the clustering of nerve endings in the feet, as you are no doubt discovering, it is particularly painful and take a long time to heal, rendering it a particularly brutal and cruel punishment. So many little bones in the feet too. So easy to break.”
She doesn’t cease in her whipping and the girl has to bite her lip to keep from begging her to stop. She remembers the name of the game and fears that to do so is to risk certain death. All she can do is struggle a little in her bonds and listen as her captor continues,
“This punishment has, at various times, been used in China and throughout the Ottoman empire and until recently, utilized as a form of corporal punishment in schools in the Middle East. It was convenient in that it could be employed on both male and female students in lieu of other forms of punishment considered inappropriate for females.”
The thud as the cane impacts the balls of her feet over and over sickens her. The pain is becoming intolerable. At the best of times the girl can barely stand impact or touch of any kind on her feet, at the moment it is worse than agony. How she wishes she could wiggle or kick, even a little bit, anything to help her process through…if she can wiggle and loosen her bonds a little bit, maybe she can… “dear god make it stop!” loosen her bonds enough to reach out and grab the bloodied knife that is just out of her reach…she’s broken out of duct tape bondage before and…her thought is interrupted by the piercing shriek that she is horrified to realize is hers. Afraid that her mind is drifting her captor has increased the force of impact and the girl instantly can’t comprehend anything but pain. She is a brain connected to the nerve endings in her feet which betray her in their constant firing. She screams again and begins to sob.
“Really my dear you’re being far too melodramatic, I’ve barely even gotten started with you and if you think this is painful, I’m afraid you’re likely to lose this game rather quickly. You don’t want that now do you?”
The girl can’t answer, she can only sob. Her captor has not paused in her ceaseless striking. The girl’s lack of response angers her. She deals her a blow that brings the girl’s screaming to fever pitch then grabs her hair, forcing her to look straight into her covered eyes as she brings her face inches from the girl’s own. The girl’s own eyes widen and Her Lady searches them for a sign of recognition, but all she sees reflected back is terror. She smiles inwardly. She has done her job well.
“Your rudeness is growing tiresome, bitch!” she snarls. “You best be careful, as I’ve told you before, making me angry is unwise. Look around you bitch, and make no mistake, I can be very nasty when I want to be. And if you continue to make me angry, I just might be inclined to show you that when it comes time to dispose of you. You don’t want that now do you?”
The girl’s nostrils flare and her face pales. Tears continue to stream down her cheeks as she shakes her head as vigorously as she possibly can. Her captors face is still inches from her own and the hot breath on her skin, still smelling of peppermint, reminds her of the ways in which she has been violated. Once again she feels the spiders stirring in her veins.
“We understand each other, then,” Her captor says as she deals her another hard slap, her hand, which has been resting in the pool of blood on the girl’s chest leaves a crimson imprint of her hand.
Defeated and a little dazed from the pain the girl weakly nods. Her captor smiles beneath her hood. She feels her stomach being to rumble and her mouth water as she looks at the girl. The sanguine rivers have flown freely where she has been sliced and she’s begun to look like a patchwork girl. Her little living dead doll. An image of the girl hours before, lips sewn shut, eyes wide and glassy, floods her mind and she smiles, “stitch bitch,” she thinks to herself. “Such a shame to waste it,” she thinks, but she can’t very well do as she might want to and lap and bite hungrily, slapping and clawing at her wounds until they pour forth life once more. She looks at the lines of crimson that trickled down the insides of the girl’s thighs and considers tracing just a finger in the girl’s blood and putting it to her lips. Her hand wanders, but she restrains herself, turning her attention instead, to the girl’s weary mind.
“So tell me, how do you like my little game, princess?” her tone is mirthful and light but the girl has learned enough not to be fooled. She cannot speak but looks at her, her feelings written on her face and in her eyes which are clouded with tears.
“Awww that bad huh?” she giggles and claps her hands together as she speaks. “I thought for sure you’d like it. I’ve been studying you for months and I’ve learned about your, shall we say alternative tastes. I think you’re lying to me. Your eyes say you hate it but your cunt suggests otherwise, you’re soaked, princess,”
She has been too frightened to realize that her captor’s hand has traveled between her legs. She tenses as she feels herself forcefully penetrated, but it is only for an instant, long enough for her captor to wet her hands in the girl’s juices . The act is as painful, but the comment is oddly familiar. If she didn’t know any better she’d swear it was something her Lady might say. And although she is mortified by the fact that she could grow wet in these circumstances, she feels for a split second oddly comforted. But the moment of peace is rapidly stripped from her as her captor forcefully smears her own wetness all over her face. “See?”
It’s true, she cannot deny it and she blushes furiously. Her face blushes, the crimson handprint no longer distinguishable from her skin as her own scent floods her nose.
“Open your mouth, you’re going to clean up your fucking mess,” she demands and the girl is surprised to find she obeys instantaneously. Perhaps because her mind has drifted to thoughts of her Lady and the bittersweet comfort has opened her to that state of unthinking obedience. She is not sure…but such questions of how and why don’t matter now anyway. Her thought process is interrupted as she feels her Captor’s fingers inserted forcefully into her mouth and throat, so deep she gags.
“Vomit on my hand and you’ll pay for it,” she warns and the girl fights to quell the nausea rising up from her stomach. She cannot and she fears she will disobey, she struggles to free herself, enough to give her room to swallow, even though she shudders at the thought. She is held firmly however and terror mingles with shame as she realizes she cannot prevent it from happening.
The hand is rapidly removed from her mouth and she is slapped hard once again.
“I warned you, bitch,” the hiss in her voice is menacing.
The girl begins to tremble. “I’m s…s…s..sorry,”
“You’re s..s..s..owwy,” she mocks, “awwww I’m sure you are but sorry isn’t going to cut it.”
The girl begins to whimper as her mind begins to contemplate the consequences of her disobedience.
“Will you shut the fuck up? You sound like a lost puppy,” she removes her gloves as she speaks and purposefully gives the girl a glimpse of something familiar. A delicate gold ring with pretty red stones.
The girl’s eyes widen. And instantly her mistake is forgotten as she attempts to process this new realization. What does it mean? Should she be terrified? Should she be relieved? She isn’t sure.
Her voice drips with incredulity as her voice forms a terrible question. A question she already knows the answer to but that she dreads just the same…
“Hello pet,” Her Lady smiles and the girl gasps.
It can’t be…it just can’t be…the abduction…the things that have been done to her. The threat of death…
“You seem surprised to see me,” her Lady remarks as she removes her sunglasses and the layers of clothing that have been obscuring her face and masking her voice. She lets her beautiful curls out from under the hood and shakes them out vigorously. It is Her Lady in the flesh.
“Really love, does it come as so much of a shock…”
She pauses as she continues to remove layers of clothing, until she is wearing only a pair of black pants, black boots, and a black tank top that the girl is intimately familiar with. How often has she admired her Lady in these same clothes at the club. How many times seeing her dressed thusly has made her flush with arousal. Damn it why is she thinking of this now? What on earth is going on?
“I warned you a number of times, didn’t I?” her Lady continues. “I told you I had a serial killer inside, but you just…didn’t…believe me…well she decided it was time to come out and play.”
For an instant the girl’s heart stops. It can’t be. She’s toying with her head. She has to be. Her Lady though sadistic and even cruel at times ultimately loves her. She’s always said the pain she inflicts is an expression of that love. She wouldn’t. ..she couldn’t.
“You’ve said you’d die for my amusement girl, well, look on the bright side…now you’ll get the chance to prove it…”
The girl searches her face and her voice for any indication that she is toying with her but cannot find one. She is too stunned to react.
“But first things first I believe I owe you something for disobeying me,” she picks up the cane once again and runs it along the girl’s exposed thighs.
The cane? This is her choice after everything she’s done? Instruments of terror, of mortal peril at her disposal and she chooses the cane. For an instant it seems strange, but it instantly becomes clear once she begins.
“You know how this is done, girl, count and thank me.”
The strokes are intense and the rapidity with which they are delivered nearly makes her loose her count. And the girl is surprised to learn that ever here, even now, even under these circumstances, she falls into unquestioned obedience, counting and thanking her. And still no act of pain or torture that has been inflicted upon her up until this point has been nearly as bad as having marks of disobedience inflicted upon her. Her eyes fill with tears that spill rapidly over her cheeks as she counts. She can barely stand the pain of impact. Can it be so? has her mind and heart been so thoroughly taken over that her devotion remains unwavering, that even in these circumstances, no feeling, no torture is worse than feeling as though she has disobeyed her Lady, even if her intent is to torture her to death? The same question fills both their minds as the cane bites into her tender thighs over and over again.
“Do you believe me now, I’m not all flowers and fairies,”
and still she counts and thanks her, as she has been instructed to do.
“50 Thank you Ma’am…51 Thank you Ma’am,”
The moment is a surprisingly intense one for them both. Emotion creeps into her Lady’s face as she increases the force behind her blows and the girl’s voice begins to crack and fill with sobs as she counts and thanks her.
“75 t…t….thank you Ma’am,” the words are barely intelligible by the time they reach this point.
Her Lady lays aside the cane and absentmindedly strokes the girl’s hair while she waits for her to calm herself. She is still crying freely and her breath comes in heavy gasps that linger in the cool moist air. It takes her considerably longer to quiet. Confusion has only heightened her terror. Her eyes, wide and searching, look for her Lady and when she cannot meet her gaze, dart around the dilapidated room desperate for some sort of understanding. But the blue paint peeling off the crumbling walls and the exposed wires reveal no secrets. The smell of decomposition is strong. To her left, steel. To her right the table full of implements, equally cold and impersonal. Hot pain radiates from her thighs where the skin has already welted and began to discolor. More tiger stripes in purples and reds. Her feet throb.
“Well my dear, I am sorry to say our game has reached its end,”
The girl tenses and gasps as she feels the pinch and then subsequent burn of an IV needle being inserted into the vein on the inside of her left arm. The words tear through her chest and for a moment she’s paralyzed by a white wall of fear as their meaning hits her. She cannot respond. Comprehension sets in and she begins to sob with renewed vigor.
“Awww, kitten, no need for tears, it’s not as bad as all that. Since you’ve served me faithfully this past year I’m going to do you a favor and end it painlessly. A luxury most won’t get. I’m simply going to drain your blood and it’ll be quick and easy, just like falling asleep. I’ll even wish you sweet dreams. And the worst part is already over—the needle is already in, see?”
…In and attached to a catheter which is draining over an old basin even as she speaks. Endorphine and stress have had an unusual effect upon the hue of her blood. It’s bright. Eerily so. Nearly fluorescent. Like strawberry sauce being drizzled over cheesecake. Such an innocuous image…the juxtaposition is terrifying. She can’t look away.
Her Lady’s eyes glitter as she watches the girl, eyes wide as silver dollars, chest rising and falling like a ship bobbing in the shallows. She’s not crying now, she simply watches the blood as it runs…a macabre little waterfall. Unsure if time is moving fast or impossibly slow…had she told her husband that she loves him before she left to do the shopping? Perhaps she should have made more of an effort to see her sister before she left town… still how odd to think that soon it will be as if she had never existed at all. This is it. Oh god, it’s really it. She has tried to live simply, tread lightly…will there be a body for the family to bury? How she wishes she had her lamb to comfort her. Is there a god? Holy shit what if she was wrong? Has she led a good life? If there is a god, is there a hell? Has she led a good life? Will she see her grandfather and her loved ones on the other side? Can you feel the moment where the life force slips away? Her eyes close as her head begins to swim. Panic is setting in…
Her body is betraying her. Each pump, each contraction of her heart pushes the blood through her veins, into the cathether, and out. Each beat a step closer to her inevitable death. The faintly melodic plinks as her life force falls drip by agonizingly slow drip against the cold metal are almost tauntingly pleasant. So innocuous a sound. Like the faint humming in her ears. Plink. Plink. Plink. The drops of blood fall and splatter like rain drops. Plink. Plink. Plink. She is eerily alert. Catlike in her fear. She can feel the blood moving in her veins. Hear the dull roar and the frantic thumping. Her ribs are vibrating…
…. Her eyes close in weary defeat. She’s lightheaded. A million tiny fingers tap a gentle lullaby on her skull…an unlikely piano. She sighs as her eyes close and white light eminates from the backs of her eyelids. She is floating on a cushion of air. Too weak to fight or even to giggle at the funny little plinks, her pallid lips soften. The hint of a smile plays in the corners. Haemorrhagic shock is surprisingly painless. She might even find it pleasant…if she weren’t so cold…
Plink…plink…plink…they grow fainter as the bottom of the basin disappears beneath the warm crimson curtain. The smell of iron fills her. ..but her beast is sleeping, curled up quietly at the end of its tether. She can only acknowledge with a muted purr…
Thud…Thud…Thud…her eyelids flutter open. Does that happen when you’re dead? Can you blink? Why are her wrists crossed? How very odd? She stretches and she is surprised to find that her muscles respond; the hairs on her neck bristle as her toes brush against something soft. It startles her. She jumps and her head connects with wood. Pain floods her temples and fills up the space between her eyes, traveling down her chest, an electric shock to her heart. Torpid unease turns to blind terror as her nostrils are assaulted by the scent of earth. Although it’s dark, she can just make out the outline of a pentagon above her head. Comprehension dawns. She is most assuredly not dead…and yet…Thud…thud…thud…
…The air seems oppressive. A beat. Frozen in terror. She chokes on her fear. Then violently, involuntarily her arms flail. They connect with the hard surface, mere inches from her face. It reanimates her. Releasing her scream. The tinkling of church bells seems oddly out of place as, beastlike, she kicks and claws at the unyielding wood…
…Light floods her pupils. Instinctively she shields her eyes. She feel s strong and loving hands take hold of her arms and lift her upwards, helping her to the ground at her Lady’s feet. She sits in stunned silence for a moment, before bringing her lips to her Lady’s boots. Her hair is softly stroked. Solace floods her being and her eyes close in relaxation.
“Good girl,” her Lady purrs. nothing more need be said.
Angel came into the classroom and took her seat as Ms. Strictness sat at her desk reading a book. The teacher briefly looked up over the pages she had been reading and then rose, straightening her short pinstriped skirt as she pushed back her chair. She took her time looking about the room as the student’s busy murmur slowly became silent and they settled in.
She walked slowly but directly towards Angel, her heels echoing in the still room as she came to a stop beside her desk. Lightly resting her delicate fingers on the three-ring notebook that lay open there, Ms. Strictness spoke, “Today you are going to write for me. You will compile two paragraphs of the reasons why you want to be in my class.” She looked pointedly at the girl as she finished her instructions.
Looking up at her teacher, and along with the rest of the class, Angel replied “Yes, Ms. Strictness” and then tried to focus her attention on the paper before her. She picked up her pen and tried to gather her thoughts but had a hard time focusing as she felt the warmth gather between her legs and spread to her face and ears from being so close to the woman. Still standing above Angel, Ms. Strictness’s eyebrow arched slightly as she noticed the hesitation and the red tinting of the girl’s ears.
The teacher walked away slowly, observing the rest of the classroom as her students diligently went to work. She retrieved their final exams from her desk and then walked back around the room placing them on her students’ desks as she went.
As she walked the breadth of the room her eyes always ended up back on Angel, the girl who had so much potential but showed such lack of effort this year. The girl’s shoulder-length raven black hair was swept into two low ponytails that framed the sides of her pretty neck as her head was lowered over her paper. And the teacher’s eyes moved down the girl’s figure to the patch of bare skin showing between her white lace top stockings and the girl’s uniform skirt that had apparently been altered. It was obviously shorter than the regulation length and purely a motive to get more attention.
Ms. Strictness had noticed several things by observing the girl over the past three semesters and she was clearly in need of strict discipline and focus. The girl had a pleasant demeanor and all of the teachers liked her, but Ms. Strictness knew that she received most of her good grades by her charm and being cute. She put on a good show of being a “good girl” for most anyone of authority, however; she noticed the girl did anything that she could to get away with things that didn’t put her in the same category of the bad kids.
Since she was a senior this year, most of her teachers were giving her a free ride since she had been an exceptional student in the past and they had more pressing matters to focus on with the students who really needed their attention. They viewed her as not a “real” problem student. All of the teachers except for her…
She eventually made her way back to Angel’s desk at the front of the class and was about to place the girl’s graded exam on her desktop when she noticed the girl hadn’t even finished one paragraph in the 30 minutes she had been sitting there and was apparently having a hard time writing more. She looked at the clock on the wall and then leaned down over Angel’s shoulder and spoke quietly in the girl’s ear, “When the bell rings, don’t get up. You will be staying after class again today.” and Angel stopped writing in mid-sentence.
The girl slowly looked up into her teacher’s eyes and nervousness spread throughout her body as she softly replied back, “Yes, Ms. Strictness.” as her body slightly slumped down in her chair and she knew by her tone that this was not going to be good. The bell rang loudly bringing her out of her thoughts and she jumped, startled by the unexpected sound. Ms. Strictness’s voice rose as she spoke over the bell and asked the students to put their papers on her desk, keeping her place beside the girl who still sat at her desk as everyone else left the room and did as they were told.
The room became still again and after a few moments Ms. Strictness’s voice broke the silence almost as harshly as the bell had and she spoke again. “Angel, do you know why you did this assignment for me today?” The girl didn’t reply right away and Ms. Strictness circled behind her desk, the sound of her heels on the concrete floor was deafening to Angel, making the girl shrink down even further. She felt like prey being circled by a vulture. Finally she was able to voice a reply, and a very soft “No Ma’am.” escaped her lips.
Ms. Strictness spoke again, “You were given this assignment because I would like to know why “you” specifically wanted to be in my class.” “You have shown no effort with your homework when you do turn it in, and your classwork shows even less.” Ms. Strictness placed Angel’s final exam on her desk in front of her, a huge red F was the only thing visible to her standing out from the whiteness of the paper. “Just how do you expect to pass my class without trying?”
Ms. Strictness continued, “I took the liberty of calling your parents and informing them of your exam grade. They are, as you can imagine less than happy with your performance in my class.” She paused and then said, “They seemed a bit confused why you are having so much trouble in my class when you are passing the rest of your classes.” Ms. Strictness walked around to the front of Angel’s desk and leaned forward placing her hands on either side looking the girl dead in the eye. “But you see I am not confused at all. I know why you are not passing my class and told them of you not doing the work or making the efforts needed to do so.”
Ms. Strictness stood back to her full height in front of the girl then turned and slowly walked over to the classroom door and shut it carefully, her hand turning the lock as she did so. She turned back to face Angel and spoke again, “Before our conversation ended, they told me that apparently you were in need of strict discipline. They have given me full authority to do whatever I choose with you that may make a difference to help you graduate.”
Angel swallowed hard and looked at her. She knew that Ms. Strictness was aware of her games and they were not going to get her anywhere with her. She was a stern and unforgiving bitch, who gave no leniency whatsoever to any of her students. All of her classmates were terrified of Ms. Strictness and so was she in a way but for some reason, she couldn’t help but fantasize about her. She had masturbated many times to the images of her in her head. Angel took her teacher in fully with her eyes, the butterflies in her stomach danced as the lump in her throat got bigger. The parts between her legs tingled and became aroused as she wondered why such a beautiful but hard woman got her so excited.
“Angel!” Ms. Strictness’s voice and the sound of a yardstick hitting the desk broke through her haze like a shotgun blast. The girl jumped again in her chair and her eyes widened as a small gasp was expelled from her lips. Ms. Strictness stood inches before her with a yardstick in hand, and she hadn’t even noticed. Her deep mahogany curls were twisted up and held tightly in place by ebony hair sticks. The teacher’s perfectly made-up eyes and now arched eyebrow framed by her black glasses showed unyielding scrutiny and distaste for the girl’s daydreaming.
The teacher’s voice still raised she said, “This is one of the reasons why you are failing!” “You have no focus whatsoever!” and she shook her head as she walked over to her own desk. Ms. Strictness sat down in her chair and told the girl to finish her assignment. Laying the yardstick down on her desk she watched as the girl took her exam and placed it in her binder and then gradually picked her pen back up, looking down at the notebook before her. The girl unconsciously bit her bottom lip as she tried to concentrate.
Ms. Strictness picked the book she had been reading back up and scanned the page to find her place where she had left off as Angel continued her work. But her thoughts were not on her reading. The girl was at the forefront of her mind, and what she had planned to do with her. The teacher knew that there was something quite different about this one and needed discipline of another kind to keep her attention and in line. Her eyes swept back up to the girl as she felt eyes on her and saw that Angel had been staring at her again, they met and Angel’s head ducked as she went back to her work.
Angel could not think straight, there was no way she was going to be able to finish this paragraph, her desire to write the real reasons why she wanted to be in Ms. Strictness’s class were not only screaming from her head but also soaking the panties that covered the hard warm flesh between her legs. The girl inhaled sharply, and the need to look at the beautiful woman once more won out.
The jacket she had been wearing that matched the pinstriped skirt was now draped over the back of her chair and the sheer black gauzy tailored blouse was uncovered revealing the woman’s black bra underneath, it was veiled through the material of her blouse but obviously expensive lingerie, and very feminine from the detail she could make out. The long strand of pearls that surrounded her neck and then draped down to her stomach was pressed together between her full breasts and disappeared behind the teacher’s crossed legs.
Angel continued to drink in every detail of her teacher, the ache growing even more. She saw that Ms. Strictness’s skirt had ridden up just enough to show a hint of a garter attached to the top of her black thigh high stockings and the girl wondered what type of panties the woman was wearing beneath her skirt. Lost in thought once again, she hadn’t noticed the teacher putting down her book and watching her as she did so. Angel’s nipples grew hard under her shirt and her eyes swept back up to the teacher’s face who was staring back at her. She felt her face flush, then she felt faint, she had been caught and the teacher’s eyes bore straight into her soul.
Ms. Strictness rose from her desk picking up her book in hand while still holding the girl’s eyes and walked towards her, she slid her rounded bottom onto the side of the girl’s desktop and crossed her legs looking down at the girl’s paper. “Angel, you have only written 4 words since the last time I looked at your assignment and it has now been an hour since school ended.” “It is apparent to me that your attention has been on something else.”
“Now I am going to give you something that may better keep your attention.” “I want you to read this.” and she placed the book she had been reading on top of Angel’s paper. She placed her finger at the beginning of a paragraph, “Start here,” and then trailed her finger down the page to the end of a sentence of another paragraph, “and end here.” Her perfume filled Angel’s nostrils and with her already feeling faint it made her even dizzier to be so close to her once again. Her eyes glimpsing over to the teacher’s ass that graced her desk and then to the book and instructions the teacher had pointed out.
“You may read silently.” Ms. Strictness said and she watched Angel as she read, the girl’s mouth slowly gaping open and then looking up at her teacher after she had read a couple of sentences. Ms. Strictness looked at her and arched her eyebrow and said, “Go on finish reading.” “Riveting isn’t it?” Angel finished reading what she was instructed to and her ears glowed brightly red along with her cheeks, her green eyes bashfully looking up at her teacher to let her know she was done and then quickly averted her eyes to her desk.
Ms. Strictness asked, “So girl, what do you think about that?” and Angel quietly replied, “It’s a very dirty book, Ma’am.” A small knowing smile played on the teacher’s lips and she responded, “But it kept your attention, didn’t it?” “Are you going to tell me that you didn’t like reading it?” Angel put her head down further and couldn’t bring herself to look at her with the images of the bound girl in the lines she had just read playing through in her head over and over again. Ms. Strictness’s voice slid down her spine as she mocked the girl’s reaction, “My little Angel, so sweet and innocent as she plays to the crowd…but I know better.” “You’re not as innocent as you let on, are you?”
“Well my dear, now you are going to learn how to focus and pay attention in a way I can get through to you.” And Ms. Strictness leaned over closer to the girl, her shirt slightly opening as she did so revealing the deep cleavage of her breasts. She reached out and lightly moved a wisp of bang out of the girl’s eyes with her deep red nail. Ms. Strictness’s voice was cold and hard as she slipped off the desk and stood before her and commanded her. “Stand up girl.
Angel’s eyes grew wide and the butterflies in her stomach went crazy, she couldn’t move or look at the woman standing over her. Another sharp command rang in the girl’s ears, “You either stand up on your own or I will do it for you.” And the girl slowly stood, her knees shaking beneath her. Ms. Strictness grabbed the girl by the arm and swiftly moved her across the room to her own desk and pulled out her chair. It had a tall back and no arms and accommodated movement from either side.
Ms. Strictness sat down in the chair and left the girl standing before her as she spoke to her again. “Now, I remind you that your parents have given me the complete authority to do what I choose to help you pass this class.” “You have received your first lesson in focus, and now you will receive your second.” “Lean over my lap girl.” Angel looked at the teacher still terrified but somewhat confused as if she hadn’t heard her right. Her panties were wet and she didn’t understand why.
“Lean over my lap now!” The girl immediately but carefully stepped forward and leaned across the woman’s lap, trying to stabilize herself without falling, her fingers and feet resting on the floor below her. Ms. Strictness rested her hand on the small of the girl’s back feeling the heat rising off of her through her shirt and said, “I bet it has been a very long time since you have received a well-earned spanking hasn’t it girl?” “Or could it be that the spoiled little princess has never been spanked?” The girl trembled on her lap and tears welled up in her eyes as she replied, “Yes, Ma’am.” Ms. Strictness spoke sharply, “Yes Ma’am what girl? It has been a long time or you have never been spanked?” “Speak clearly and be specific!”
Tears trailed down the girl’s face and she said, “It has been a very long time Ma’am.” Ms. Strictness’s eyes swept over the girls round bottom in front of her and a smile spread across her face as she pulled the girl’s skirt up and over her back revealing the white panties beneath it. She said, “Well then I suppose you are quite overdue for one then aren’t you?” “Perhaps you will remember what it is to be humbled and made to pay attention girl.”
The girl could feel the teacher’s hand brush against her when her skirt was pulled up and then the cold air of the room flow over her skin. She felt exposed and vulnerable in a way she had never felt before and the reality of what was happening to her was like a sudden and sharp slap. She felt so very small and fragile and the thought of the pain coming was nearly bringing her to a sob already without the teacher having done anything.
Ms. Strictness picked up the yardstick from the top of her desk and gave her one hard stroke across her ass, the girl crying out under the force, her sobs now coming from the actual pain inflicted. She moved to get away from the sting, but Ms. Strictness’s arm pressed down into her back and her hand held her waist tightly against her.
Another hard blow was unleashed and Ms. Strictness’s voice mingled with the slap of wood against the flesh, “Now you are focused aren’t you.” The girl yelped again and then another stroke was given. “Now you are getting the discipline you need.” “You simply want to be put in your place.” Ms. Strictness continued to talk as she gave five more rapid strokes. The girl’s bottom became pink from the blows and straight lines from the shape of the wooden yardstick blossomed in front of the teacher’s eyes. The girl shuddered with sobs but never once did she ask the teacher to stop.
Another rapid succession of strokes and the teacher could see and feel the wetness from the girl’s panties soaking through to her own skirt. She said, “My, my, what is this? Your body is betraying you little one, giving away all your secrets.” And the teacher released her grip on the girl, placing the yardstick back on the desk. Her hand went back to girl’s ass displayed upon her lap and she let her fingernails trace over the swollen red stripes there and then stopped. She spoke to the girl again, “Get down on your hands and knees.”
The girl was still sobbing on her lap, but it wasn’t the pain that made her sob. She was embarrassed by what the teacher had said, her body revealing and reacting to the things that were happening to her. She knew if she didn’t do what her teacher had commanded that she would make her and she slowly removed her body from the teacher’s lap, sliding onto the floor in front of her. Her vision was blurry from the tears and she could feel streams of snot clinging to her nose and mouth and then dripping from her face onto the floor beneath her. She heard the teacher open a desk drawer as she waited for more fierce punishment to be inflicted upon her and instead she heard the sound of chain tinkling.
The teacher’s hand reached down and surrounded the girl’s chin pulling the girl’s head up straight and she saw a flash of black leather and chain as she placed it around the girl’s neck. The teacher pushed her head back down as it was locked into place. The girl saw a length of chain and leather cuffs nestled on the floor beneath her flowing down from the collar that was now on her neck. The teacher leaned over pressing her breast into the girls back as she took one of the cuffs and then the other and locked them into place on the girl’s wrists swiftly and without pause.
Then she felt the teacher’s hand move between her legs brushing her thighs as her ankles were given the same treatment. The girl’s constant sobs had become brief and infrequent and she tried to process what was going on. She felt reduced, like an animal on her hands and knees. Even lower than that, but there was a strange peace and sense of clarity that filled her, a calm she had never felt. Like she was finally where she wanted and needed to be. The images in the book she had read earlier drifted through her head and she realized at this moment she was that bound and helpless girl.
Ms. Strictness stood up and stepped in front of her, the girl’s eyes resting on the toes of the teacher’s stiletto heels. She saw the teacher’s delicate hand reach down and grab hold of the chain attached to her neck and felt her pull up on the chain. “Stand up girl.” She looked up at the teacher her face red and swollen, the tears and snot dried on her face and complied with her command. She was a little off balance and felt awkward trying not to get twisted up in the chain that led from her neck to her wrists and then down to her ankles but managed to do so without falling over.
Ms. Strictness pulled her by her neck and walked her a few steps to the desk making her face the classroom with her thighs against the desk and stepped in close behind her pressing her own body into the girl’s. She felt the edge of the desk bite into her thighs. Ms. Strictness’s put her head close to the girl’s as she whispered into the girl’s ear, “This, my dear is how you are going to pass my class.” “You are going to serve me in any way I choose, and you will be taught the things you need to know by doing so.” “And if you choose not to or decide that you need to tell someone, you will not only fail your class but you will not graduate.” “As a matter of fact, no one will believe you anyway, and you will be kicked out of school.” “Is that understood?”
The girl shrunk under the teacher’s voice close to her ear, and a small trembling voice replied, “Yes Ma’am.” The teacher went on, “I have seen the way you look at the other girls when they are near you.” “I have also noticed that you blow all the boys off who think you’re hot and vie for your attention.” “Why is that?” “Your mother mentioned that you have never had a serious boyfriend in our discussion.” “Do you have a secret little girl?” “Are you a lesbian, do you only like girls?”
Angel shrunk again and the teacher pulled her head back against her. “Answer me girl!” The girl answered and started quietly sobbing again, “I didn’t want anyone to know. They would make fun of me.” The teacher continued with her interrogation. “I have also noticed the way you look at me girl. I have seen you looking down my shirt and stealing glimpses whenever you can.” “Poor little Angel, just imagine what all of your classmates would do to you if they found out.”
“You’re not only a dirty girl but a lesbian as well.” The teacher’s foot stepped in between the girl’s ankles and widened her stance against the desk, splitting her legs open as far as the restraints would allow. She pressed her groin into the girl’s ass and then she forced the girl’s upper body down onto the desk. The girl’s arms and hands were trapped under her chest and the teacher leaned forward resting her own body on top of the girl.
The teacher continued to whisper in the girl’s ear beneath her, “So many secrets tsk, tsk.”“You know if they were to find out I can just imagine what may happen.” “We hear of incidents around the world all the time of people who are ostracized by their peers.” “People who are abused verbally and physically, raped and tortured when they find out their secrets.” “However, I seem to think that the idea of your classmates doing so may not have the same effect.”
“Perhaps restraining you so you can’t get away, the girls and boys taking their turn using you, laughing at you, and abusing you for what you really are.” “You secretly would enjoy it wouldn’t you?” Angel’s eyes were half closed, the need between her legs was so urgent she couldn’t stand it and she knew the teacher was right. A quiet “Yes Ma’am” resounded from her lips without thought.
The teacher stepped back and pulled the girl up straight again, turned her around so she was facing her, her hand going to the top of the girl’s skirt and then undoing the buttons at the girl’s waist. Angel’s skirt slipped down to her thighs as it was released, revealing her panties and her flat mid-drift. Ms. Strictness grabbed a black permanent marker from her desk and took the top off with her teeth as she stared in Angel’s eyes. “So Angel you are going to reveal your secrets.” “You are going to wear them and every time you see them they will remind you of what you really are.”
Ms. Strictness spoke again, “Let’s start with Lesbian, as you have already confessed.” The teacher wrote the word across the middle of the girl’s stomach with the marker. “Hmm, let’s see, we know you are dirty.” And the word was also written beside the first one. “Let’s dig a little deeper shall we.” “All of the things you feel that make you react like the wet little girl you are right now.” “Filthy, worthless, useless, nasty… does that sound about right?”
The girl moaned slightly in reaction to hearing the words her teacher voiced and again, an instant thoughtless reply of “Yes, Ma’am” escaped. The teacher continued to spit words at her and watched the response the girl’s body made to them, “Whore, tramp, hole.” The girl’s midsection was covered in black writing boldly standing out against the white of her skin. “You are all of these words girl, and acceptance will free you of your fears.” “You will face them.” “You will embrace them, and who you really are.”
The girl was lost in the teacher’s words, and never felt freer than she had at that moment. The teacher threw the pen down on the desk and forced the girl to turn around again spreading her legs. Her hand went between them to the soft fabric of her wet panties and grabbed hold of them ripping them from her body.
The girl’s last secret was revealed. There between the girl’s legs where it had been tightly and neatly tucked away was the secret she had been trying the hardest to hide. And the girl tried to pull away but the teacher kept her still. The girl was not a biological girl but a gurl, a boy who so desperately wanted and felt like she was a real girl. The gurl’s hard cock sprang free and to the place where it normally would have been and Ms. Strictness reached around and grabbed hold of it in her hand.
“My sweet Angel, I have known who and what you really are for a long time now.” “There will be no more secrets you need to hide.” The teacher stroked the gurl’s cock pulling her against her and she brought the gurl to release, her cum streaming across the desk and she collapsed in her arms in deep guttural sobs. The teacher held her tightly to her and let the gurl cry. Her voice now soft and comforting she spoke to Angel, “You are now mine and areas you should be, free.”
Chess flicked through the magazine idly, her eyes drifting over the words she’d already read too many times. The late shift at the Blockbuster store may have paid well but on a Wednesday night the place was dead. The other sales girl had been called to the Manager’s office twenty minutes earlier and Chess knew she’d be laid out over his desk by now.
An impatient cough broke her reverie and Chess pushed her spectacles back into place with her fingertips as she smiled over at the customer. Dressed in a tight top and wearing a pair of baggy pants, the dark-skinned goddess made a rush of blood flow into Chess’s groin. Smiling broadly, Chess tried to ignore the feeling, carefully keeping her eyes locked on the girl’s face as she dropped into ‘sales mode’. “Good evening madam, how can I help you?”
The girl’s face was full of thunder and she slammed a DVD case on the counter. “You can get me the right damned film!”
Looking down at the case, her eyes flashing onto the angry customer’s chest for an instant before reading the title of the movie. “The Furry Honey Pot Adventure? It’s one of our most popular children’s animations, what seems to be the problem?”
“Damn false advertising. Furry honey pot my ass! How do you expect me to get off to a bunch of cartoon bears!?!”
Chess felt her face drop into auto, her smiling remaining fixed as the thought of this ebony goddess laid across her couch, desperately fingering herself to the antics of the animated bears causing her pussy to quiver. “Umm… well… could I offer you some other title?” Stammered Chess, her eyes dropping unconsciously to the girl’s chest again before Chess caught herself and looked away.
“Do you have anything with hot lesbian action that’ll get me hard fast?” The woman asked petulantly. Chess was confused for a second, did she just ask for something to get her hard?
“Have you checked out our adult selections?”
“I don’t want that junk, I want something hot. Got anything in the back room?” The woman winked as she leaned over the counter, her top stretching tighter across her breasts leaving her nipples clearly visible against the material. Chess reached up and pushed her glasses back into place as she looked down the girl’s top, her lips beginning to moisten as dirty thoughts filled her head.
“I do have some new stock we haven’t put on display yet, I could get them for you?”
“Why don’t I just come back there with you? Wouldn’t it be a lot easier then carrying all those cases out here?” The girl said, flexing her arms so that she squashed her breasts together, her cleavage enticing Chess once more.
“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to take customers into the back storage area.”
“It’ll only be for a few minutes…” The girl’s tone was dripping with suggestions, conjuring all kinds of images in Chess’s head.
“Well… only for a minute…”
Chess walked out from behind the counter, feeling the moisture on her thighs as she crossed to the main door and turned the display to ‘Closed’ before turning back to the ebony hottie and waving for her to follow. Moving between the shelves, Chess led her to the locked door marked ‘Authorised Personnel Only’. Deftly tapping the keypad, she unlocked the door and stepped through.
Almost immediately the customer was upon her, pushing her forwards against one of the shelves filling the dark room. As the black babe’s hands slipped over her uniform, Chess found herself moaning and she quickly bit her lip. “Damn, you are one hot little number…” The customer whispered in her ear as her hand slipped under Chess’s clothes, one cupping her breast through the young girl’s bra while the other slipped down between her legs.
“Dirty girl, you been thinking about this?” The ebony-skinned temptress moaned as her fingers stroked over Chess’s crotch, feeling the damp lips twitching under her touch. Pressing harder, she spread the assistant’s flower wide as her fingertips teased the wet hole nestled between them.
“Oh… yes…” Chess responded, pressing her butt back against the girl’s hips, wriggling as she felt her cunt being invaded by the very tips of the girl’s fingers.
The customer pulled away from her, lifting her fingers to her mouth as she licked Chess’s essence from them. “Kneel for me.” The woman said, her voice leaving no room for negotiation. Without even thinking, Chess found herself on her knees before the goddess.
As she watched the dark-skinned slowly peeling off her top, the plentiful masses of her new Mistress’s breasts hanging heavily, the nipples standing out proudly from her chest as her dark hands unfastened her belt and pants before dropping them to her feet, her long thick cock standing hard in front of her.
Chess was stunned, her hand reaching out and stroking the rigid shaft in disbelief as the black beauty smiled down at her. “Do you like it slut? Do you like the way it feels?”
Smiling, Chess’s fingers massaged the length of the impressive shaft, leaning forwards and licking at the precum gathered on the tip, closing her eyes as she savored the flavor on her tongue. Getting bored, the customer pressed her hands against Chess’s head, pushing her down the shaft until she felt her cock bumping against the back of the assistant’s
Shocked Chess gagged, fighting to breathe as the ebony goddess pressed harder, slipping her cock into the girl’s throat as she started to pump slowly into her mouth. Chess’s hands reached up, cupping the woman’s bare black buttocks as she slowly calmed down, starting to moan as the cock drove into her again and again.
After a few minutes Chess could feel the cock beginning to twitch and as the ebony goddess pulled away she opened her mouth wide, tilting her head back as the flowing stream of cum sprayed into her face. Shifting her head, Chess took the next load in her mouth, leaning forwards as the third stream shot out, sucking hard as the salty goodness flowed down her throat.
Grabbing her shoulder roughly, the black beauty flipped Chess around, pressing her head down as she hooked her arm under the counter girl’s waist, lifting her butt high as she starts to rub the cum dripping cock against her wet cunt. As her face was pressed into the tiled floor, Chess moaned with lust, begging the strange cockgirl to slip the large black cock into her.
Smiling down at the wanton slut as she moaned and wriggling against her rigid shaft, smearing the cum over her drenched cunt, the black beauty shifted her grip, moving her cock to the tight puckered hole between Chess’s arse cheeks.
Panicking Chess cried out, writhing against her captor as the hard cockhead probed her butthole, “No, please, not my ass, I’ve never taken it there before…”
Laughing evilly, a broad smile splitting her dark face like a bleeding gash, the customer pulled the assistant’s hips back, forcing her cockhead into the tight, barely lubed hole with an audible pop. Chess screamed out, her muscles pulling tightly on the invader as the black girl pushed hard, forcing herself deeper into the poor girl’s rectum.
“Just relax, enjoy the feeling of my cock in your ass, it’s going to be there a while.” The ebony Dom whispered as her hands slipped under Chess’s body, one groping between her legs, probing her drenched slit, while the other squeezed her breast tightly, the soft flesh swelling out between the dark-skinned fingers.
Taking the advice, Chess tried to relax, her mouth gaping wide as her face was pressed hard against the tiled floor, the cock beginning to pump into her butt with long slow strokes. A strange feeling spread inside her poop chute, something she’d never experienced before, unlike having her cunt filled but still enjoyable in a perverse way, and soon her hips were pushing back against the thrusts, driving for her own reward.
The customer pressed her fingers deeper, slipping two, then three and finally four fingers into the counter girl’s pussy, the abundant cream making them slip easily into Chess as she used them to pull her toy up onto her cock, stretching the young girl and making her moan all the louder as she clawed at the floor in ecstasy.
“Oh god yes… I never thought… harder, please fuck my ass harder!” Chess heard herself saying, her mind filled with lust as the black shaft started pounding into her, the girl’s hips slapping into her buttocks with as regular clapping sound as she increased the pace.
Letting go of her toy’s breast, the ebony goddess pulled back, her hand almost entirely buried in the attendant’s cunt as her thumb played over her swollen clit. Raising her free hand high, she slammed it down over Chess’s flanks, admiring the bright red handprint on the girl’s arse for a second before spanking her hard again.
Chess rolled her head across the floor, her drool puddling under her cheek as she whined out in pleasure, her arms pressing against the floor as she pushed herself full body against the black shaft pistoning into her guts, her moans and cries filling the dank and dirty stockroom as she felt her orgasm building.
Pulling out suddenly, the black girl pushed Chess over, quickly grabbing a handful; of her hair and pulling her to her knees in front of the throbbing phallus. Jamming it in as deep as she could, the goddess tilted her head back, letting out a long satisfied moan as she pumped load after load of cum into the girl’s throat, filling Chess’s stomach with the salty goodness.
Pushing her away, the girl stood over her, still stroking her shaft in her hand as more cum shot over the counter girl, splattering on her glasses and dripping down onto her naked breasts as she moved her head, trying to catch the streams in her mouth.
When the cum finally stopped, the ebony-skinned girl grabbed Chess’s hair once again, pulling her close as she wiped her cock clean with the attendant’s dark hair. As she smiled down at the cum-soaked slut, the girl smiled that evil smile again. “Well that managed to get me off, now where’s your security recorded?”
Laid across the floor in a puddle of cum, drool, and pussy juice, Chess lifted her hand, pointed at a small cubicle in the far corner filled with a bank of monitors. The dark-skinned cockgirl plucked her clothes from the floor, examining them critically for any stains as she walked between the shelves.
Pulling her top back on, she stepped into the ‘security office’, quickly finding the video recorders that monitored the various sections of the premises. She stepped into her pants, pulling them up and tying them off with practiced ease as her eyes read off the labels until they lit upon the ‘storeroom’.
Rewinding the tape, she brought it up on one of the screens, admiring herself in the hazy black and white image as she forced her cock down the counter girl’s throat, as she bent the girl over and rammed herself into the girl’s butt. Stopping the tape, she reached out for an empty box, writing out a label and sticking it into the cover.
She stalked out towards the exit, throwing the tape down at Chess. “My friends will be in later, you’re going to rent them that tape, let them all see what a whore you are. If you’re lucky they may even help you make some more tapes as well!”
As the door slammed shut, leaving Chess alone in the darkness, she clutched at the tape, her other hand moving between her legs, stroking herself wantonly as she imagined all the people who were going to be watching it.