A week, a night, a gift - beaten, peed on, and treasured (4)

In a way, the days that followed were like a fairy tale. You know the ones - where the innocent but clever heroine is locked away in a tower, to be visited each night by a beast or an ogre, Rumpelstiltsken or Marley's ghost, who assigns a task that must be completed by morning or some horrible fate will befall her.

Except the assignments were not meant as trials. Rather, they were training, preparation, education in the realities of her life.

The realities of my fate.

In a way, none but the last contained any surprises. But there was a ritual nature to their presentation, along with touches of both sadism and protection. She seemed to be simultaneously trying to puncture any illusions with little stabs while protecting me from how he might treat me while inoculating me beforehand.

The second night's piece is a prime example of that dichotomy.

OK, new thought implant for today. Not as erotic as steamy jungle vegetation but necessary:

You are nothing more than part of my travel kit, like the little bag that contains reduced-sized toothpaste and shaving equipment, single-dose antihistamines and antacids and little packs of tissues. There for my temporary comfort, on the off-chance I might feel the need to use something (unless a more effective substitute can be obtained locally) and then discard it.

I had heard this image before, in connection with the possibility of bringing me along on a different trip a couple of months earlier. The fiend had been warning me that he would be spending most of his time with friends and on the main purpose of the trip. There was always the possibility that he would return to the room too hot and tired and drunk to have any interest in the pleasures I had to offer. I was dubious of that ever being the case, but appreciated the warning.

In this case, I expanded slightly on the seed he planted but was not all that inspired. he had made his point. That would do.

Yes, Sir. I understand completely. You have used this image before, specifically in relation to what I would be if you did bring me along on this trip. A useful item to have along, just in case. I suppose you might even find some girl at one of the bars who would seem to appease your need more than the little whore who waits back in your room. Perhaps you would go home with her, or drag her into an alley, or bring her back to the hotel where I would watch her have the honor of sucking your cock as I served only as your caddy.

Reduced-size toothpaste... I will be your Tinkerbelle whore, my Lord, wedged into your travel kit, just in case...

(You are impressively adept at manipulating my mental state, my Master. Still, while your words at first struck me like a slap on the face, they have not turned me cold. Your magic is still functioning overtime, and the sting of its power drives the contractions in my womb while my arousal breaches the dam and floods my plain, white, cotton panties.)

I suspect the wryness of my tone betrayed my lack of belief in this claimed perspective. Could it be that he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to prepare me? In any case, in the end there was no indication that his interest in me was somewhere below his anticipation of making use of his dental floss.



[If you have joined us in the middle, you might want to go back and read Part 1 , Part 2 and Part 3.]