She lies curled in the corner of her cage.
She has been there for 2 whole days.
His patience has expired.
He doesn't say a word.
He reaches in and pulls her out
by her hair. Deliberately, he slaps
each cheek. He plants her on his knees
and spanks her. 5 times a side.
He pushes her off his lap.
She crumbles on the ground between his feet.
Drawing herself up to her knees,
she sets to work with her mouth,
doing what she was trained to do,
tears streaming down her face.
He swells and moans.
Life is back to normal.
II.
He imposes a re-focusing routine. Naked as always, she is crawling back and forth across the floor. He ignores her (or tries to) and devotes himself to spreadsheets. By the end of the designated hour, she is clearly exhausted. She drags herself across the carpet, rug burns forming on her pale skin, tears staining her face.
In time...
III.
She kneels up naked between his legs. She presents her mouth, lips parted, tongue extended in invitation. He seizes her tangled locks and pulls her closer and straighter.
She gives him her eyes.
He takes her right nipple.
He starts to squeeze, slowly increasing the pressure, watching her expression change, watching her submission deepen, knowing that the honey is starting to pool in her pussy and seep down through her labia, leaving tracks on her legs.
There are traces of pain flecking the blue of her eyes. He transforms the squeeze into a twist. Tiny tears betray the struggle to hold his gaze. He knows she is fighting the urge to pull away. He twists again, and digs his nail into the little knob of flesh.
She screams.
"Say it," he says. His first words to her all day.
"I love you."
Another twist.
"I love you!"
More pain.
"I love you! I love you! Please, my Lord, I do love you..."
She is choking on her tears.
His hand leaves her tit for her hair. He grabs it close to her scalp, twines his fingers into the flow of red, and pulls her to his mouth. He devours her lips, her tongue, biting into her, evoking more screams, while she sobs into his greedy maw her pathetic words of devotion.
Her struggles are swelling his cock. He wants more. He surrounds her throat with his large hand. He exults in the beauty of her strangled croaks of love as he watches the light fade from her eyes. He stops just in time. He knows he could have gone on.
His cock is smiling.
"Good girl."
She sobs her joy.
He thinks about his knife.
Written for my sadistic Master after a pretty pathetic IM session in which I was clearly not concentrating on his desires as opposed to my own concerns. The imagined punishment reflects my own extreme displeasure with my failure, not his. Posted here with his permission.
II.
He imposes a re-focusing routine. Naked as always, she is crawling back and forth across the floor. He ignores her (or tries to) and devotes himself to spreadsheets. By the end of the designated hour, she is clearly exhausted. She drags herself across the carpet, rug burns forming on her pale skin, tears staining her face.
An alarm signals the end of the exercise. She collapses at his feet. He places a bowl of cool water before her. She laps gratefully. She takes him in her cool, moist mouth. There is nothing in her mind but to please him.
He accepts her attentions as his due. He is not yet ready to reward her with the two words he knows she craves.
III.
She kneels up naked between his legs. She presents her mouth, lips parted, tongue extended in invitation. He seizes her tangled locks and pulls her closer and straighter.
She gives him her eyes.
He takes her right nipple.
He starts to squeeze, slowly increasing the pressure, watching her expression change, watching her submission deepen, knowing that the honey is starting to pool in her pussy and seep down through her labia, leaving tracks on her legs.
There are traces of pain flecking the blue of her eyes. He transforms the squeeze into a twist. Tiny tears betray the struggle to hold his gaze. He knows she is fighting the urge to pull away. He twists again, and digs his nail into the little knob of flesh.
She screams.
"Say it," he says. His first words to her all day.
"I love you."
Another twist.
"I love you!"
More pain.
"I love you! I love you! Please, my Lord, I do love you..."
She is choking on her tears.
His hand leaves her tit for her hair. He grabs it close to her scalp, twines his fingers into the flow of red, and pulls her to his mouth. He devours her lips, her tongue, biting into her, evoking more screams, while she sobs into his greedy maw her pathetic words of devotion.
Her struggles are swelling his cock. He wants more. He surrounds her throat with his large hand. He exults in the beauty of her strangled croaks of love as he watches the light fade from her eyes. He stops just in time. He knows he could have gone on.
His cock is smiling.
"Good girl."
She sobs her joy.
He thinks about his knife.
Written for my sadistic Master after a pretty pathetic IM session in which I was clearly not concentrating on his desires as opposed to my own concerns. The imagined punishment reflects my own extreme displeasure with my failure, not his. Posted here with his permission.
Posts
8 comments:
OH OH OH!
Darn you make me go all crazy reading this .. not a bad thing.. but .. sigh shut up in the house.. snow piling up outside.. my neves are frayed.. and happily so.
Many thanks on a snowbound day~~
ok... WOW!
meant my
"NERVES"
but that hardly matters ..
Wow- your imagination leaves me thinking about how you are turning towards that complete slut and slave for your Master. Your wonderful with the pen and paper.
what has happened with the his thoughts of having you shaved?
Good morning, all. I'm sitting up in bed, my bedroom flooded with the light of sun reflected off 2 feet of snow. I really should get up and get dressed, so I can greet the guys who will come around offering to shovel my walk. I hope they're prepared to do my car as well!
nancy - isn't it delicious to be assailed by unquenchable arousal?
mamacrow - yeah... this was one of those things that just came over me... battered my brain and flew out my fingers.
charlie - my imagination has always been pretty.. um... fluent. As to what I am turning into, much fo this has always been inside me. But it is my Master who is training and directing me, making me into exactly what he wants. Exactly what he always knew was there.
As for depriving me of my little red pelvic curls... he is quite serious about this and, after a period of silence on the matter has been referring to it again. Actually, he only has to say a word or two and my mind embroideries it into a full tapestry of sensation and fear. Last night he spoke of how a naked pussy will better show welts.
He wants to hurt me.
OG, your imagery is fantastic, I'm blown away.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.
Well, no shoveling here in upstate New York-but having grown up in Boston, I can understand the amount of snow piling up on the car, and the lack of energy to shovel and clear it off.
Well, if the barber comes by, it is fun to save the trimmings.
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