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Erotica: Bad Kitty

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***This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters are consenting adults. 

I stand before him in just my panties. They’re the little ones with pink ruffles on the edges and a print made of tiny pink hearts and kitties. He’s standing at the foot of the bed. The new frame has arrived and I note the iron bars on the headboard that allow plenty of attachment points for restraints.

He unbuckles his belt and I feel the slick begin to soak my panties. I’m always wet and ready for Daddy. I smile as he sits down on the edge. Daddy feels my energy shift. “Not so fast Babygirl,” he says, folding the belt in his hands and making my heart begin to race. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen Daddy but I think someone has been touching her kitty and making explosions without Daddy’s permission.” I look at my toes, shame heating my cheeks and turning them pink. “Do you know who that little girl might be?”

I look up at Daddy and my eyes begin to brim with tears. “Blaidd,” I whisper, always being honest with Daddy. “I’m sorry Daddy, it’s just been such a long time.”

“I forgive you sweetheart,” Daddy says, “but we need to make this right before you deserve to have Daddy’s cock.” Daddy knows I’ve had the special herbal blend that heightens every sensation in my body. I’ve already begun to tingle when he pats his lap, indicating that I should assume the position. I’m nervous but I don’t fight him this time. I know that I’ve been naughty, and it has been a lot of times.

Daddy peels my panties off gently, and sets the soaked fabric aside. He runs his fingers through my slick as he lays me over one knee on the bed and tosses the other leg over my lower back, pinning me in place. CRACK. The first strike lands on my bottom. It hurts and I whimper. “One,” I count out loud.

Two more strikes land, and while it hurts, the herbs are in full force now and I notice that every touch, every brush of fabric or Daddy against my skin, causes tingles between my legs. Even the belt strikes, which bring pain with every blow, begin to hurt good. “Five,” I count.

Daddy lets me up and I’m surprised. Only five stripes is generous of Daddy given the number of illicit orgasms. “All done Daddy?” I whimper. Daddy smiles and massages my sore bum for a moment, nearly causing me to come. I resist. I’ll be sure to ask permission this time.

“Not quite little one,” he says gently but firmly. “You see, Kitty has also been naughty. She was an active participant in this week’s shenanigans.” I pale just a little as he grabs me around the waist and drags me onto the center of the bed. This time I do squirm and resist as he binds me spread eagled on the bed with a cleverly hidden set of underbed restraints. “It’s only fair baby, you have a very naughty kitty.”

I cry out when the first blow of the belt lands directly on my clit. The strikes are fairly soft but my anticipation amplifies the sensation by a thousand times. The pace begins to increase as I whimper and squirm on the bed, soaking the sheets beneath me. The hardness of the strikes begins to gradually increase, right in time with my pain and arousal.

I call his name out loud now. “Daddy please,” I beg, unsure if I’m pleading for the pain to stop or for it to continue. The blows keep coming down and certainty about what I need fills my mind as I find myself on the precipice of coming. I ask permission this time. “Daddy please. More. I need to explode.”

“Good girl!” he says enthusiastically, increasing both the speed and the intensity of the belt. “Come for Daddy!” His words and the frantic beating of the belt push me past the brink of sanity. as pain and pleasure bleed together and I detonate, convulsing on the mattress.

Daddy frees me and pulls me to my hands and knees. “Now you deserve Daddy’s cock,” he announces before looping his belt around my ribs and slamming into me from behind. I scream silently now as he uses the belt to control my breath while he pounds relentlessly into my tiny, abused kitty.

I gasp as he loosens the belt just enough to let it slide down and retighten around my waist, and using it for leverage then, begins to fuck me with abandon. I claw the sheets and whimper as he snarls behind me and sinks his teeth into the tender flesh between my shoulder and my throat. “Mine,” he growls, words clear despite being uttered around a mouthful of me. He doesn’t release me until he makes his own explosion, filling me with his seed.

We both collapse on the bed, and he pulls me close, catching some of the seeds dripping from between my thighs and pressing his fingers into my mouth. I suck them clean and he kisses me deeply then before wrapping me tightly in his arms. “I missed you,” he says, as I press my forehead to his and run my hands along the sides of his face, memorizing every line and curve. “I missed you too,” I whisper. “With Daddy is where I’m meant to be.”

Sunny Leigh Mayne is writer of romance and erotica specializing in dark romance and fetish/BDSM stories. An active member of the BDSM community, her interests include erotic hypnosis, dollification, sensual BDSM, and primal play. Identifying as pansexual, Sunny enjoys writing stories that are inclusive of diverse sexual orientations and gender identities. Her writings are intended for mature audiences aged 18 and older, and may contain some content triggers that some readers may find disturbing. She is also a visual artist and enjoys creating erotic art using mixed media. A lover of animals, and a proponent of animal rights advocacy, Sunny has several pets at home. Characters in all stories by Sunny Leigh Mayne are adults and any similarities to persons real or fictional are purely coincidental. Her books can be found at https://www.amazon.com/author/sunnyleighmayne

Erotica: Ladies Choice

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The second hand on the clock held its breath waiting for the response. Sally was frozen, waiting. When no instruction came, she genuflected between them. He smiled at Mistress. The smile said so much. Nicely trained, fantastic sub. He stepped back and left the bathroom, giving Mistress room to manage her toy part of the session. Before he could survey the loft, Sally was in the door – leash in hand and holding it out for him.

He took the leash and walked back into the room.  He attached the leash to the hooks above the toilet. Sally’s eyes grew large, he reached for the enema bag. He filled it with warm water, lubed the end and motioned for her to assume the position. He lifted the toilet seat allowing, her to sit, coughing her hands to her ankles. Without a word, he grabbed Mistress and forced her to her knees. As Mistress, deep to the back of her throat Sally, watched in silent humiliation.

He curled her hair around his fingers, allowing her to lick and tease his erection. His jeans hung from his hips, and his balls were still tucked away as his cock became engorged from the pleasure she provided with her wanton mouth and tongue. She held his gaze as any thought of Sally slipped from her mind. His words of encouragement and praise fed her desire to satisfy him. He instructed her to take his pants off.

She withdrew from him to maneuver around and remove his pants. Before she could stand, he had a handful of hair in his hands, “Did I tell you to stop sucking my cock, slut!?”

She leaned back to rest on her heels and answer. He laughed at her effort. “I didn’t. You could stop.”

He placed his hands on either side of her head and drew her in until she gagged. He held her there for what seemed like an eternity to Sally. He was enjoying this training, and this captive audience was a different kind of rush. The planning of the next steps added intensity to his hard-on.  He flicked his hips forward, jamming his cock down her throat; her wretch and tear were the tipping point. He grabbed his cock and spat his load onto her face. He playfully slapped her face, kissed her forehead, and cooed “good slut” as he walked into the shower.

He beckoned her to the shower. He made no effort to make it easy for her to turn on the shower. Mistress had removed the body stocking. He stood in the middle of the shower, waiting. She pressed herself against the icy cold tiles, her nipples pulled into painfully tight nubs. He held her breast and flicked her nipples as she struggled to turn on the water. His body blocked her as he cajoled her into turning on the water. Training continued as he teased her about failing at her task.  His admonishment was playful, meant to frustrate her just enough that she would have to ask permission to set the temperature. She growled and flicked her arms in frustration. He pressed her into the cold tiles, drew his mouth near her ear  and growled, “you” do nothing without permission.” Mistress stopped fighting and let his weight hold her until she was chilled on the back and warmed on the front. When she had been still for several minutes, she murmured, “Can  I please turn on the shower and help you bathe?”

He stepped back so she could move and turn on the shower.  She set the shower to run down his back. She scrubbed him with a loofa and mint soap until his back was pink.

“Am I washing your hair?”

“You want to try that again?”

“Sir, would you like me to wash your hair?”

“slut you may, but don’t get soap in my eyes.”

She gingerly put small amounts of shampoo in his hair, rinsing as she shielded his eyes. He didn’t move or make any effort to make the tease easy for her. Without asking, she turned off the water and passed him a small towel.

“What do you expect me to do with that?” Silently, she began to dry him off.

He left the shower and attended to Sally. She had held the position silently. He released her restraints and the enema bag. He didn’t look at her or reward her obedience. Mistress watched the interaction; her only response was to press her lips together. She wanted this. Now she wanted to see it through. He approached her and asked, “Where are we?”

Mistress looked at Sally. She was humiliated and in need of comfort. He told Mistress to put Sally on the toilet and then set up the four-point restraints on the bed. He went to the kitchen and drank water while he surveyed the room. The pace of this evening was slower than he was happy with, but a whole lot of fun. The St. Andrew’s cross was in a superior position for observing the bed. Without speaking, he motioned for Sally to be strapped in.

Mistress stood at the end of the bed, naked.  Her hair was wet from the shower and a little wild.  She was a fawn in a meadow and he the wolf. He walked to her and kissed her full on the mouth. His hand wrapped at the base of her neck, lifting her onto her toes as the kiss deepened. He continued to kiss her long after the moans of pleasure rose from her heaving chest. When her legs were shaking from being stretched, his arm slid under her ass, and he lifted her to the bed. Her mouth was swollen and a little bruised already. Her areolas were deep pink. He leaned over her body, not touching her except to trace his nail around the circumference. She lay spread eagle, watching him stalk around the bed, watching her body. He had taken a crop from the table and was using it to lift her breasts. He smacked gently down the length of her torso. He was using the leather tongue to open and stoke her sex as he positioned her body. The tongue of the crop was wet. He dragged it across her lips. He lay the crop across her tits.

“Don’t let it fall, or there will be consequences”  he smiled as he tightened the first arm restraint. His mouth began at the inside of her wrist, and he caressed and teased down her side. She tried using slow breaths to not squirm from the tickles his beard created at her side. His mouth traced the soft skin at her hip. The flatness of his tongue stirred an arousal she had not anticipated. He traced and nipped at the area above her pubic bone, tempting but never touching her sex. Her breath was ragged, and she pressed her hips into the bed. He restrained her ankle and continued to use his mouth and hand up to her inner thigh. The heat from his mouth on her inner thigh was too much. Mistress wrapped her unrestrained leg across his back and raised her pussy to him. He let her hold him for the briefest moment. He stopped and stood. He restrained the portion and walked away.

She saw the light of the fridge light up the ceiling. The music washed away any clues as to how he was moving around the room. She could see Sally’s face; it was twisted in frustration. He brought her a drink with a straw. He tempted and teased her until her knees went weak. This time he didn’t withdraw. He flicked her clitoris at lightning speed, telling her not to come until she gushed. He licked her from his fingers. Kissed her and cooed, good girl. He released her from the cross, swaddled her in a large blanket and carried her to the couch with some fruit and ice water.  

“Be a good little sub and let me finish your Mistress.”

He crawled on all fours to between her legs, slid his hands under her ass, so his thumb pressed against her ass. With the flat of his tongue, he began to drink her deeply. As she started to rock in pleasure, he slowly massaged her asshole. She was wet and aching for his cock. Once she had cum, he released the restraints, put on a condom, and gentled his pace. He entered her slowly and barely moved. She wrapped herself around him. He sat back and held her close, whispering for her to inhale and exhale until they were synced. He danced her around the bed, varying the pace and intensity until her nails dug in, and she froze for her climax. He waited until she relaxed. She kissed him with gratitude. He returned the kiss and increased the intensity of screwing her. She climaxed again. When she settled, he grabbed an anal vibrator from the side table, lubed it and slid it in. Positioning him from behind, he pounded her relentlessly. He climaxed, smacked her ass, and walked to the bathroom.

When he returned, she was wrapped in a blanket on the sofa next to Sally. He sat down, tossed the TV remote at Mistress and said, “ladies’ choice.”

Erotica: The Negotiation

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He finished his beer and suggested they leave the bar. It was crisp out but not cold.  Sally-sub starts to mark her territory. As they walked, their footsteps echoed off the cobblestones. Sally stepped in front of her Mistress, knitted her fingers through the long black locks, and kissed her full on the mouth. The explanation of pleasure was audible as the Domme returned her Subs kiss. He watched the two women become lost in their passion; his cock strained against the button fly of his denims. He quietly walked over, removed the Subs fingers, and growled, “not tonight.”

He clamped Sally’s upper arm, forcing the women apart. While Sally fell into line at his side, her Domme was taken aback, and her feet cemented to the ground so mutated, he was caught off gu when he stepped forward.

“Who the fuck! Do you think you are to pull my slut off of me? I can handle her just fine. I do not need you getting up in my business -asshole.” she spat the words. He didn’t miss a beat. He simply maneuvered her with his strength and growled while holding eye contact. He held her gaze and arm until she broke by, turning away as she blinked. Her body language said it all. Her head was facing down, and she looked up through her hair moving forward. If she wanted him to play, she had to submit, now. He wasn’t going to be topped from the bottom. He released her arm, and she walked next to him completely under her power. The terms had been agreed for tonight she would be his sub, she would be his slut; she would find pleasure in the release of obedience. They walked, the conversation moved from how nice and well-kept the area was to what the ice cream shop was doing for a fall promotion. Once they were all conversing freely, in began to lay out his expectations. “Either both of you agree, or we don’t do this. I understand the dynamic of your relationship. When we get to your place, I will grab a shower and give you two a chance to run over what you want together. I expect you to have all the toys and impact implements laid out on the coffee or kitchen table. Make sure you each drink a large glass of water and eat something.” His tone was bright and casual. “From our previous conversation, I know no foot play, but bound in restraints by the ankles is ok. No metal music because it can trigger.” 

Sally was dragging her feet and visibly bothered by what he was saying. He walked to a bench along their route and sat at the far end. He gestured for the two women to join him. Sally sat on the other end so that Mistress was in the middle. Mistress raised a finger as he began to speak. He chose to let her take over. 

“Sally, you are a very naughty sub tonight. I let the kids go because we have been drinking, and I know you are jealous, but anymore defiance and I will put you in the cage, restrained so you will watch every lick of his tongue, the slap of his hand and bulge of his cock. Do we have a problem?”

No Mistress, Sally bent over and placed her head in her Mistress’s lap. Mistress stroked Sally’s hair. 

“Right!” he said, so that is your wish list for tonight. I’d like a few more details of what you’d like.”

Mistress explained that she wanted the release of surrender. She wanted to see her sub used well, but no penetration.  Sally could and should be used for oral. She had become a bit too possessive lately and needed to be reminded of how she could be used if Mistress felt it was warranted. They would not require any prep time. 

“Lay it out for me. What is your fantasy or version of a night with us three?” He motioned between them, and his hand halted on her thigh. His thumb stroked sub’s hair as he held Domme’s gaze.

“We go back to our place. “She dipped her head towards Sally. “Sally will lay out the session toys. I will direct her. Her task is to watch you seduce and pleasure me in a way she can’t. She has been a bit too possessive lately. A lesson is to be taught. You- are a tool in my arsenal. She is yours to use before you and I.  I will direct her as to her task and expectations. You and I will shower. I want to be seduced, smothered and brought to just feeling, not thinking. Lemon and pepper  for caution and stop.”

Sally’s face soured as he listened. She was familiar with protecting her witch. Her disdain for him was palpable. 

He smiled, nodded, stood, and waited for Mistress to lead the way. They strolled and made small talk. Sally sped up to open the apartment and prepare for the session. Mistress and Domme moved silently, but she matched his stride. 

Privacy blinds kept the apartment completely shut away from the world but bright. An open room with a high breakfast bar separating the kitchen, a solid dining table, an oversized grey sofa, and a king-size bed was connected by intricately patterned rugs, a few big pillows and large potted plants. Over-sized canvases lined the walls—a subtle way to dampen noise. To the BDSM practiced eye, it was easy to see that removing a few items in this place was the perfect dungeon. There were places to watch and play. A bunch of scenes scenarios ran through his head when he saw how solid the dining table was. 

Sally stood at the end of the breakfast bar. She was naked except for a pair of red patented heels holding a towel, head bowed. Her pubic hair was a trimmed treasure trail of deep brown curls. Both nipples were pierced and bejewelled with a bell on each loop. The shy ting of the bells drew attention to her heavy breathing. She was working hard to calm herself. He was amused but said nothing. Mistress motioned for him to go with Sally. As he went to take the towel, she turned and walked towards the bathroom. He smiled as he watched her hips sway.  Sally walked into the bathroom, expecting him to follow. He connected eyes with Domme.   

“She’ll undress you and prepare the shower. I’ll join you in a few minutes. Enjoy her while I take care of a few things. Extra-large, I assume,” she said as she eyed his crotch. 

“Yeah, but I have.”

“I have an allergy. I hope you don’t mind?”

He put his hands up. “It’s all good,” he continued to follow Sally to the bathroom.

 He was enjoying this in-between world. The bathroom had a walk-in shower, a pedestal sink, and a toilet with a high flush box.  A set of hoops and hooks above the toilet titillate the sadist side of him. Bathroom humiliation wasn’t his thing, but maybe this was the time to give it another try. Sally was unbuttoning his shirt, and he slid his hand between her legs.  He didn’t make eye contact as he opened her lips and drew her closer as he found her core and slid in a finger. She was wet and holding her breath. He didn’t move. He had her close by her sex, offering no stimulation. Her cunt was a tool to humiliate her. Sally’s sex betrayed her. She worked to continue her task despite her body’s response to his touch.

When she had undone his buttons, she placed her hand on her head and waited for the following command. He maneuvered his hand and turned so she could remove his shirt. He had a chest of black chest hair. Groomed but very sexy. At the waistband, the hair stopped. He manscaped and smelled like pine and lime. His body heat released a clean, warm scent. When she removed his worn brown belt, he put out his hand for it. Sally continued to hold the belt unmoving. Her lower lip jutted out, and her eyes grew big as he motioned for the belt. Again, she did not move. 

“Are you afraid of my belt? He asked, suppressing a grin in response to her fear. “I like my subs to hold my belt in their mouth. The anticipation of what comes when I take it makes them all the sweeter. Is your cunt twitching and thumping? Your sweet ass delights me. I’ll pink it up with my hand. Hold on to the sink and count for me.”

 He placed the belt between her teeth. He was creating the impossible task of holding the belt and counting. As he caressed and teased her ass, he wrapped himself around her pressing her hands into the edge of the sink. She maneuvered as though to prevent his body from touching her. Her resistance made him smile, but he said nothing. Music floated into from the other room—Latin jazz rhythms with solid bass. Mistresses had changed into s set of clicky shoes. Spikey heels moved in rhythm to the music. She popped her head in, and her body followed. The sight of her sub was too delightful not to witness. Her ample breast and soft stomach were encased in a black lace body stocking with glimmering silver strands in spider web patterns, and shoes like Sally’s accentuated every curve. The bodysuit was overlapped sections that could expose breasts, pussy, and ass for easy access to the observant person. 

Mistress skipped to her sub and positioned herself next to the mirror to hold her subs gaze. 

“I think ten aside to start. Count nice and loud. If I can’t hear the number, I will repeat it until I can listen to it. Let’s please Mistress and show her how good a sub you are.

“yes, shur,” Sally said, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Mistress giggled and stroked her subs hair after she wiped the tears of humiliation from Sally’s eyes. He rubbed and squeezed Sally’s ass until he felt her lean into him. He wet his finger on her sex and fed it to Mistress. Her tongue licked and sucked Sally’s juices. Her nipples responded and became hard. He stepped in and kissed her, profoundly massaging her tongue with his- sucking and tasting Sally. Sally held her position and watched this bear of a man enveloped her Mistress. His left hand rested on Sally’s neck as his right held Mistress by the throat, and they continued to kiss until a moan of pleasure escaped Mistress’s throat. He backed off and returned his attention to Sally.

Without warning, a playful slap rang out. Sally yelped in surprise. 

Another quickly followed, “What was that? 

Un, two,” she spoke through the leather. 

“Excellent, you-slutty sub, keep counting.”

Three and four were a little harder. Sally held the sink a little tighter and bit down on the belt, and she counted. Five through eight were harder again. Mistress wiped the tears and kissed Sally’s eye. Such a good girl, she purred. Sally was flushed and shaking a little.  As he delivered nine and ten, Mistress tweaked and pinched Sally’s nipples. The attention intensified Sally’s arousal. As Sally called 11, 12, and 13, Mistress wet her finger and found Sally’s clit. Mistress flicked at lightning speed; Sally’s knees flexed as she pressed into Mistress’s hand. Every smack brought her closer to orgasm. He watched the women. They were in the moment. He eased back so they could ride this connection. He continued to massage and caress but saw no need to go harder. He watched Mistress for a cue. 

Sally was edging and working to stay in control. All this stimulation was too much – a cry of ecstasy ejected the belt from her mouth. The ring of the metal buckle on the porcelain rang out, and Mistress removed her hand.  

“No, please don’t stop” Instantly, she regretted her words. She hung her head and waited. She was ashamed. She had let Mistress down. She let go of the sink and stood between the two dominants.

Erotica: The Center Of The Circus

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I am a quiet and well-behaved slave.  This is especially true in public.  I do not speak beyond what is required of me as a hostess or unless directly addressed.  I stay as close to Master’s side as possible while still fulfilling the tasks he has set forth when we have guests.  I work to negotiate for Master when newer individuals get on the table, clean up between bottoms (and after the festivities), and I make sure Master is fed and hydrated.  I monitor the unattached bottoms who visit, and I have my own gaggle of littles that I babysit.

While I am often busy keeping everything running smoothly, Master is often busy introducing individuals to electroplay.

To say we rarely get play time at a public event is an understatement.  And when we do, it is reserved for the end of the night.  Considering how much Sadomasochism is in our play, there are two factors we must consider.

Factor number one is Master’s energy level.  He plays with twenty to thirty people prior to me.  While more than half of the scenes are under 15 minutes, the up and down of the endorphins and adrenaline wears Him down considerably.

Factor number two is how many people, at the party, are new.  It seems like an odd thing to factor into our play, doesn’t it?  Theoretically, the only people who matter in a scene are the participants.  But, in the real world, that is not the case.   

We play rough.  We play heavy.  I have yet to safeword.  And it scares people.

So, if we do scene, it is always at the end of the night, when most of the new people have left.

We play late to protect ourselves.

But, when we do, we become the center of our own circus.

Master thrives on the crowd.  It is as though he absorbs the energy put out by them and channels it into his implements.  I am sure I have seen his eyes glow from that same energy.

So, sit back, boys and girls, and let me tell you the story of a Sadistic Ringmaster.

I have been watching you for hours Sir.  Over and over, men and women willingly put themselves on your table and cross.  I watch your eyes light up with pleasure and the sinister smile slowly take over.  Your creativity is beyond bounds.  I have yet to see the same scene twice, even with tastings.

I never know quite what to expect.  We have never played in public before Sir and my nerves are getting the best of me.  You’ve told me that it was my choice to play or not.  I know you want me up there, but I also know you will stand by your word.

It has taken most of the night, but I am ready to do this.

I can hear the shouts of the one in front of me.  He is a masochist that I have seen you play with him before.  He likes it hard and fast.  I can tell, even from here, that he will have welts for a couple of days.  I find it amusing when he climbs the cross.  For being cuffed, he is quite flexible.

I wait until you have stepped away and the cross is empty.  I see you cleaning everything you used.  My stomach is in my throat, and I am struggling to find my voice.

I silently move to cross, standing slightly behind you to your left.  I wait patiently for you to acknowledge me.  It takes a few minutes.  I wonder briefly if you have left me waiting on purpose, just to fuck with me.  

“Hello, sweetie.”

“Hi Sir.”

“Is everything alright?”  You turn to face me completely.  Your hand rests on my shoulder and you give it a soft squeeze.

“Yes, Sir.”  Deep Breath.  “Will you flog me on the cross?”  My insides are shaking.  Why is it so hard to do this in public?

You raise an eyebrow.  Without hesitation, you tell me to step up to the cross.  I stand there for a minute, waiting.  I see you grab the first toy and I get a very wicked idea.

“Are you ready?” You ask.

“Don’t you want to tie me up Sir?”  

I see you smile.  The game has begun.

My shoulders are tense.  This is very new to me.  Here I am, cuffed to the cross, in just my panties, waiting for what will happen next.

This is the easy part.  I know better than to look.  I won’t know the implement until you use it.  How many do you think I can guess right?

Your body presses against my back.  Your hand curves around my neck, but no pressure is applied.  “Are you ready?”

Deep, shuddering breath.  “Yes, Sir.”

“Safe word?”

“Red for stop. Yellow for check-in.”

“Good girl.”

With that, you step back.  My body shivers in anticipation.  

The first strike of the flogger hurts.  I must force my shoulders to relax.  I know that the more tense I am, the more I could hurt myself.

My eyes close as you find your rhythm.  There is a steady heat building under my skin.  This isn’t so bad.  If I keep my eyes closed, I can forget everyone else is there.  I feel you pause every so often.  Sometimes your hands touch my skin and sometimes you switch the implements.  The floggers are steadily getting stingier.  

The room has fallen silent.  Or, at least, I cannot hear them anymore.  There is only white noise in my ears now.  My head feels like it is swimming.  My eyelids are heavy.  My mouth feels glued shut.  Even at the increasing pain, I have no drive to stop you.

Then there is a long pause.

I rest my forehead to the cool wood of the cross.  I steady my breathing and wait.  I can hear the murmurs of the people again, but I find I care far less now than I did at the start.

I don’t know how long you left me waiting.  Even with my eyes closed, I can feel your presence.  

Then, you shocked me.

Without any warning, I felt a firm whack to my ass.  It’s the paddle.

Fuck.  I hate those.

My eyes pop open, and my hands wrap around the chains holding me in place. “Fuuhhck.”

I hear you laugh.  It’s a dark and rich sound that cuts through the static.

Two.

Three.

Then you change it up again.

It’s always in threes.

I have lost count of the number of implements.  This is far from the flogging I initially asked for.  Then again, you have blanket consent to do as you please with this body.  And you never cease to surprise me.

Somewhere in between the paddles, you check in with me.  I know you expect me to be honest.  My body feels warm and on fire.  I feel invincible.

You ask me how I am doing.  

I turn my head until our eyes meet.  My answer shocks you.  “Is that all you’ve got, Magick?”  There is no Sir or Master.  I am challenging your reputation.  

Bring.

It.

On.

Master.

The gasp of the crowd cuts through the static.  I hear a lone voice warning me not to say that.  But it isn’t you.  

Our eyes stay locked for several moments.  You smile wide.  I think I have provoked the Dragon.

Well, there is no turning back now.

I break the eye contact, turning back to the cross, dropping my head, and baring my neck.

What have I done?

The room is silent.  I can feel the eyes of everyone on us.  I think I have shocked them Sir.  

Without warning, I feel something thin and stingy hit my ass.  Ow.  We just went from a 3 or 4 to a 7 on the pain scale.  I breathe deep.  This is what I asked for.

My eyes stay closed, and I scrunch up my face as I breathe through the pain.  This is what I was looking for Sir.  I wanted to see your Sadistic side.  I wanted to trigger the same intensity you give the other masochists.  I wanted you to use me without fear.

The strikes no longer come in threes, nor do they have the same rhythm.  I can tell you are still in control, but you want me to feel each strike.  Without a steady pattern, I cannot zone out.  I cannot sink into the sweet oblivion of sub space.

And you know it.

I lose track of time so easily under your touch.  I don’t know how long we have been at this.  My legs are starting to feel weak.  My ass feels as though it is on fire.  The only thing holding me up at this point is the tight grip I have on the chains.  

I am not ready for this to end.  I refuse to give after I issued a challenge.

I finally hear your voice, soft and gruff in my ear.  “How are you holding up?”

“Good, Sir.”

Your hand rests on the back of my neck.  It feels hot.

You step away and I mewl at the loss.

One.  

That one takes my breath away.  It was solid enough that I felt my body would go through the wall with the force.

Two.

Jesus Christ that hurt.  Whatever that was has me nearly biting through my tongue.

Three.  I have finally climbed the cross.  This is the devil.  I cannot feel the back of my thighs anymore.  What on Earth did you use, Sir?

My body sags.  I grit my teeth and lean against the wood.  I am near my breaking point.  But I do not want to stop Sir.  I want you to know I can take anything you are willing to give.  I cannot stop this.  I won’t.

I feel you against my back again.  Your body is solid as you pull me against you.  My head drops back onto your shoulder.  Your hands wrap around my torso and climb up to my nipples.  Your fingers tweak them, tugging and pulling.  All I can do is gasp.  There is so much pain on my backside and the combination of pain and pleasure from my nipples is going to drop me right here.  You tug them upward and bring me to my tip toes.

“You look so pretty when you climb the cross.”

I let out a soft gwaff.  I don’t even have the energy to laugh right now.

You let go of my nipples and your arms holds my waist to keep me upright.  “How are you pet?”

“I…I” Deep breath.  “I…am good Sir.”  I exhale loudly.  “May I have some water before we continue?”

“Let’s get you down pet and then I will get you some water.” 

“No, Sir.  Please.  We can continue.”

“Shh.  You have done well pet.”  I hear you ask someone to help undo the restraints.  

Once my arms are free, they drop heavily to my side.  I turn around in your embrace and rest my head on your chest.  I feel very floaty Sir, almost drunk.

And very sore.

All I can think is Thank you, Master.  That was one hell of a ride.

That was the first of many public play sessions.  When he finished checking on me, I can proudly tell you that I not only walked away from the cross on my own two feet, I went back to hosting duties after.  I was on a high for several days.  It also brought about one of the longest (and lowest) sub drops I had ever experienced.

I asked what those last three toys were.  The thick one that thudded (and felt like I would go through the floor) was a length of a fire hose.  For future reference, it has physically knocked me off a spanking bench and has quite the power behind it.  

The second toy (the sting that made me curse very loudly) was a length of weather stripping.  It is very, very painful.  It leaves wonderful marks.

The last (which made me climb the cross) is a serpentine belt.  It is my favorite toy (and has been since that day).  I learned during that session that the belt corners should be sanded down.  We ended up drawing blood on my thigh and it left a mark for nearly three months.  We honestly thought it would scar.

Please understand that our dynamic is a Total Power Exchange with blanket consent.  While I asked for a flogging for this scene, he decided to push my limits.  I wouldn’t change anything about this scene.  

That includes challenging him.

No one else has the balls to do that.  No one will go head-to-head with Master.  That’s what makes me special.  That is why I have the honor of wearing his collar.  He says I keep surprising him.

As I said at the beginning, I am generally a quiet and well-behaved slave.  But, when the lights come up and the Circus tents open, I get to challenge the Ringmaster at his own game.

And it keeps everyone coming back for more.

My name is Joji.  I am 29 years old currently and I have been in and around the kink community about 15 years.I am a collared submissive to Magick42.  I am also a Daddy to a wonderful babygirl, and have been for more than three years now and I find it very fulfilling.  I am being mentored in and being taught electroplay.  I am a masochist at heart and thoroughly love impact play, especially caning.  I enjoy reading anything I can get my hands on and am a die hard Harry Potter and Doctor Who fan.  I am also the secretary for a group in Idaho called Moscow S.P.A.R.K.E (Simply Providing Another Route to Kink Education).  It is our mission to teach safe practices to those new to the community and give them a safe haven to ask questions and learn without judgement.  We accept all kinks and all we ask in return is respect between all our members.

Erotica: The Public Meets The Monster

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*** All works of erotica are fictional and we NEVER condone anything that is not safe and consensual

It has been so long since I have slept in front of the fire.  You were even kind enough to give me a cushioned mat to curl up on.  My body shivers lightly.  I turn over so my back faces the flames.  It is odd that the fire is still going.  Did you stoke it throughout the night Sir?  I hope you were still able to get some sleep without worrying over me.

It is odd being out here Sir.  Normally, I lay at the foot of your bed.  I know your routine.  I know to move from my spot only once you are stirring awake.  You like your coffee right after you wake.  I prepare your shower and lay out your clothes.

But, out here, your door is shut.  I am not allowed to enter without permission.  I have upset you so much these last few days.  I do not wish to upset you further by not completing the morning routine.  Yet, I do not wish to intentionally break a rule and enter your domain without permission.

You are so quiet with me Sir.  Very little in the way of direction, and even less in the way of expectations.  I have learned by watching.  I have survived this long by watching, waiting, and anticipating.

I have made my decision Sir.  If you wanted me to complete my morning routine, you would have left the door open.  You may have even carried me into the room last night.  But I think this is the start of the punishment.  You told me that I needed to trust you and I needed to be honest with you.  I have not been quick to do either.

So, you have left me on my own for the night.  You have left me in the exact position I have demonstrated that I desire; alone.

I sit up on the cushion, pull my knees up to my chest, and stare blindly into the fire.  I have never wanted to be alone Sir.  I hope you know that.  I just have learned it is the best way to protect myself.  The more I scare people, and the more I make myself invisible, the happier they are to forget me.

It is the safer way.

I shake my head.  I do not wish to dwell on the horrors today.  You deserve my full attention Sir.  I have let Maker influence too many of our interactions.  I seek to push him from my mind, if only possible for today.

I know that I cannot kneel until you awake Master.  I greatly dislike admitting such faults.  Maybe, with time, I can correct the damage done to my body.  For now, I think it would be best to reflect on my behavior.  I have not been at my best, Sir.  

I know my place.  A good slave is invisible.  They are silent (or soft spoken if addressed).  You should never be able to hear me walk (or crawl) in or out of a room.  You should never need to call me.  I should always know when and where I should be (regardless of environment).  

Yet, I have been very lax in my behaviors.  I was trained better than this.  I feel the reminders left on my body as harshly as you see them.

I sit up, keeping my back to the fire, and cross my legs.  I take a deep breath, hold it for a few seconds, and slowly release.  My hands rest on my knees, palms facing upward.  My back stays straight and my head is up, though my eyes are closed.  I am in proper position to await you Sir, kneeling notwithstanding.

I do not know how long I have been sitting here Sir.  But your touch to the top of my head startles me slightly.  One day I will understand how you can walk so lightly in boots so heavy.

My eyes open and I lower my gaze down.  I am determined to be perfect for you, Master.

I sense you walk around me, inspecting me.  Once you sit down in your chair, I shift up onto my knees.  

“There’s my good girl.”

My body grudgingly blushes.  I do not feel like a good girl, and I am doing my best to not question you, even if only in my head.

“Eyes up pet.”  Your voice is firm but quiet.  I lift my eyes to yours.  “When it is just us, I expect you to wait for me with your eyes up.  I prefer eye contact.  I can see what you are thinking, and hiding, much easier.”

I meet your eyes.  This is difficult Sir.  I am half expecting you to backhand me for such forward behavior.  I am curious if you have set this rule previously or if this is specifically for me.  Of course, it does not matter either way.  You have ordered it; I shall obey it.

I see your arm move, but your hand is out of my eyeline.  I keep my eyes locked on yours and suppress the tremble that threatens to overtake me.  I can handle whatever you offer, Master.  I will make sure you never doubt that.  

I am startled slightly when I feel a tug on the ring of the collar around my neck.  The thick leather gives me little room to resist as you pull me forward.  My hands tighten on my knees, trying to stay upright and maintain the eye contact you have asked for.

“I have a gift for you.”

A gift?  That is a surprise.  I am sure my eyes reflect those thoughts as they widen in curiosity.  With Maker, surprises meant pain.  They meant a lot of blood and a lot of crying. But Master is much more kind.  I am nervous but not fearful, yet.  

You let the ring of the collar go.  My body sways back into position.  

Two snaps. 

That means eyes down.  I drop my eyes.

Your hands reach around, and I feel the lock of the leather being undone.  

Deep breath.  Trust.  That’s what you said Master.  I had to trust you.  That means no panicking.

The collar slides off and my palms are turned up once more to catch it.  I have never quite felt how heavy it is.  Then again, this is the first time I remember being without one on, Sir.  

Two snaps.  Eyes up.

Thank the Gods I understand your silence, Sir.

I am staring at the soft, velvet bag in your hands.  It is black with red lettering.  I wonder briefly if that is a monogram to your unspoken name Master.  Everyone has one.  Some of us just don’t get to use them anymore.

You open the drawstring and I see a metal band pulled out.  It is a new collar.  I am slightly confused.  Why the change Sir?

“Lay the leather across my knee and hold out your palms.”  I do as you ask.  “Meet my eyes.”  As you wish Sir.  

You lay the metal in my palms.  I am surprised that it is lighter than the leather.  Is that normal?  It has no lock that I can feel.  It also has no beginning or end.  It seems to be a solid circle of metal.

I resist the urge to look down, or away, from you.  You keep eye contact with silence.  It weighs heavy between us, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stay silent.  Have I told you how much silence scares me?  I probably should.

It can’t have been more than a minute of silence Sir.  Yet, when I felt the electricity dance across my palm as it races through the metal, I jump.  I did not expect such an action.

“Do you feel that pet?”  I nod.  You have not granted permission yet to speak.  “I have thought over your recent behavior.  Should you disobey, punishment will be swift and merciless.  You will curb your behavior.  Do you understand me, pet?”

I nod.

Two snaps.  Verbal answer it is.  “Yes, Sir.  I understand.”

You pluck the collar from my palms.  I watch you unlock it with a special key before you place it around my neck.  It is secured and I feel you place two fingers between the collar and my neck.  Good to know I won’t die by suffocation, Sir.

“I will use this as needed.”  I nod.  I expected as much.  “Now, we will deal with your impending punishment.”  I am not surprised that I have a different punishment waiting for me.  As much as I dislike it, I am thankful I do not need to wait much longer.  I just want this behind us Sir.  I want to start over.  I can be good Master.  I promise.

I could have only hoped that punishment would take place in your rooms.  But, no, that would not have been enough.  Crawling across the concrete is not even the hardest part, though it does leave my knees very tender.  It is the eyes of the others watching me.  You did not leash me, and my neck is bare enough to catch their attention.  I hear a few snickers.  They seem to recognize the collar and its purpose.

I think this place was built like a maze on purpose.  I have lost count of the number of turns we have taken.  All the hallways look identical.  It probably doesn’t help that most of what I am seeing is the grey concrete of the floor and the heels of your boots.  

We finally reach the destination.  You step only a few feet into the room, though I follow dutifully.

“Kneel up.”

I comply.  I take in the surroundings.  From this angle, looking into the room, there is minimal furnishings.  I see a large, wingback chair in the center of the wall, set slightly back than center.  A large cross is bolted to the wall on the left.  There were thick chains attached to the top of it.  

I watch you stride forward to the chair.  You sit down, your knees parting naturally.  

Two snaps.

I crawl forward until I am right in front of you, the room forgotten.  Your hand slides through my hair.  “Turn around and remain kneeling.”  I do so.  I feel you tug my hair.  It takes me a moment to realize you are braiding it.  I assume you do not want it in your way.  I can tell you are finished when I feel the braid bounce against my back after you’ve dropped it.

Your hand reaches around my face and tips my face back to see you.  Your hand wraps around my throat, firm but without pressure.  “You have committed three infractions against me pet.”  I remain silent.  Your hand slides from my neck and tips my face forward again.  I start to face it down and your voice stops me.  “Look forward pet.”

I do so and I see there is an audience.  I swallow.  This is not what I want.

“Tell them pet.  Tell them how you have shamed yourself.”  

I hesitate.

“Loud and clear pet.  I will not repeat myself.”

Deep breath.  “This girl did not truthfully answer Master regarding the state of her health.  This girl lost her temper with Master as though she was his equal.  This girl did not disclose her medical status to Master despite his order for complete honesty from his property.”  It takes all I am to face down the crowd watching us.  It had not quite sunk in until now how badly I fucked up.

I feel you rise.  In just a couple steps you are standing between myself and the audience.  “I can forgive a pet who forgets her place from time to time.  It is my duty to teach you, and keep you, in your place.  However, I do not forgive easily a slave who does not answer truthfully.  You are my property.  You do not get to decide what you will tell me.  I expect the truth, at all times.  Omission is lying.”

I have never heard you be so vocal Sir.  I have upset you greatly.  I do not like this.  I want to apologize.  I do not think it would matter at this point.  My words mean nothing currently.  Maybe by taking this, I will prove to you how I regret my actions.

“Bring the cage to the center of the room.”

I look around quickly, and spot it near the back, left corner of the room.  I crawl over to it.  It is large enough that I could fit inside.  You have not given me leave to stand.  I figure the only way I can do this is to drag it with me.  

I crawl backwards from it, only a couple feet or so.  I reach forward and hook my fingers in the bars.  I pull it towards me.  I was right Sir.  It is heavy when I have no leverage to assist me.  I move back a little more and pulled it to me again.  Over and over, I repeat the process.  Longer than I would have liked, I finally reach the center of the room where you are waiting.

I kneel next to the cage, facing you.  I await your next instructions.

“Stand and present.”  I do so, though much slower than I would have preferred.  My legs are numb, but they are still supporting my weight. “Turn and face your audience.” I turn, and while I stay in position, my eyes drop to the floor.  I know better than to make eye contact with any of the other Masters.

Deep breath.

I jumped slightly when my sight goes dark suddenly.  I can hear snickering, but I cannot see them anymore.  I have not decided it that is a good thing yet or not.  I feel a warm breath near my ear.  Lowly, you whisper, “You will learn to trust me slave.  It will start when you cry for me.” 

You stepped back.  

“Bend forward over the cage, pet.”  Cautiously, I do so.  It is an uncomfortable height to bend properly.  I feel your boot against my foot.  “Spread.”  You keep nudging my feet until the are spread just past my shoulders.  It eases the pain on my hips and back.  I think you are aware of that, even if the audience is not.

“You will hold yourself in position.  You will accept what I give and thank me when I am finished.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”  I made sure my voice was clear and easily heard.

The only warning I get is the whistle of the implement before it connects with my calf.  It is the cane.  I keep my mouth shut.  I refuse to give in so easy.  There is no warm-up with punishment.  Even less so when you are proving a point to his audience.  This is meant to hurt.  This is meant to serve as a reminder to never again be so careless.

Two. Three. Four.

You are deliberately keeping the hits from forming a rhythm.  It makes the hits much more intense.  The back of my calf is burning.

Five. Six. Seven.

My leg is shaking.  My attention is divided between keeping my leg still and trying not to tense before the next hit.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

My eyes are watering.  I do not like this.

Without hesitation, the hits move to my other calf.  The first one is just as hard as it was on the other side.

Two. Three. Four.

I understand why you chose my calves Sir.  

Five. Six. Seven.

I did not tell you that my legs go numb.  If I can function without feeling, and without telling you, then you will make sure I can feel this punishment.  I can.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

I am gripping the cage tightly.  My whole body is shaking.  You did not tell me to count but I have been keeping track in my head.  It is helping me focus.  Just because my legs are occasionally numb (and paralyzed), does not mean I feel anything less.  In fact, it often makes the sensations more intense.

My breathing is harsh; it echoes around the room.  Everything is silent.  I am unsure anymore if there are still people watching or even where you have gone to Sir.  I do not feel you behind me anymore.

There is no warning this time either.  You have come back with a vengeance.  I cannot stop the grunt that passes my lips.  Have I ever told you how much I hate wooden paddles?  I despise them even more on the back of my thigh.

Two. Three. Four. 

There is more rhythm with this one.  I am unsure if it is because the paddle is heavier or if you are trying to help me breathe through the pain.

Five. Six. Seven.  

I am reaching my breaking point Sir.  I do not understand why I could face Maker so stoically, but I cannot do the same with you.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

My knees are shaking.  At this point, the only thing that has kept me from dropping to the floor is my grip on the cage.  My body is sweating profusely from the effort.

As with my calves, you took only a breath or two before switching thighs.  I feel the firm swat to my right thigh.  This makes 31 hits so far Sir.  How much farther are we going?

Two. Three. Four.

The blindfold is soaked with tears.  I am hiccupping from the sobbing.  It hurts Sir.

Five. Six. Seven.

It hurts.  Is this how bad I have hurt you by not being truthful?  Is that why it is so harsh?

Eight.

I don’t know how long I can continue to hold myself up Master.

Nine.

Please, Sir.  Please, can we be finished.  I clench my eyes shut.

Ten.

This rounds out another Ten.  I am sorry, Master.  I will not do this again.  

I cannot hear myself think anymore.  My body trembles.  I am biting my lip to try and calm the sobbing.  I can hear murmurs again.  There is no warm touch from you, Master, not this time.

“Stand up pet.”

I loosen my grip on the cage.  I can feel the indentations that have been left in my skin.  I trail the bars of the cage until I am sure my hands are on the top.  I push my upper body off the cage.  Without lifting my feet from the concrete, I slowly drag my feet back together.  

Deep, shuddering breath.  I can do this.

My body is on fire.  It protests loudly as I move.  But I bring myself up to a standing position.  I bring my hands to the back of my head, my elbows bent and outward.  My back is straight, my head is held high, and my gaze remains on the floor.  My chest is heaving.  My body is tired.

But I will take what you give, Master.  I will make you proud.  

“You have done well pet.  Five left.  You will stay in this position.  Is that clear?”  Your voice is firm.

“Yes, Sir.”  As soon as I confirm my understanding, you slip a piece of rope between my teeth.  

“Hold that firmly.”  I nod.

My back spasmed at the first lash.  It is the whip.  I fucking hate the whip.  So many bad memories attached to this type of punishment.  

Two.

My foot stepped forward reactively after the second lash.  Without a word, I put myself back into the position I started in. But it is too late.  I feel the electricity of the collar.  It lights my body on fire as my muscles tense.

Three.

My right knee gave out.  It hits the concrete hard, even as my hands come down to catch me.  I drop my head.  I am failing you now.  I am positive I can feel your disappointment.  I am ashamed I have broken position, but I refuse to stay down.  Slowly, I bring myself back up into position.  

Though you cannot see it, I close my eyes.  I grit my teeth against the rope, waiting for the electricity.  It is stronger than the first time.  My body feels like it is vibrating.  Only two more lashes to go.  

Four.

My hands tighten in my hair as I force my body to stay still.

Five.

The last one.  I am so sorry, Master.  

I feel one of your hands on the back of my neck as the other removes the length of rope.  My voice wobbles as I remember your instructions.  “Thank you, Master for correcting my behavior and reminding me of my place at your feet.”

 “You may drop your hands pet.”  Your hands move to release the blindfold.  I close my eyes against the onslaught of light.  “Address your audience pet.”

“This girl apologizes for her ill behavior.  This girl has learned her lesson and endeavor to give exemplary service to Master going forward.”

Two Snaps.  I kneel.

“Clean up after yourself while I take care of some business.”

“Yes, Master.”

I see you walk towards to hall.  I try not to dwell on your actions. Is it selfish to want you to hold me Sir?  Even when I have been so disobedient? I shake my head slightly and return my focus to my task.  I push the cage forward.  I move it a few inches before crawling forward and pushing it again.  It takes me far longer than I care to admit, but it makes it back to its spot against the wall.  

I turn and crawl back to the chair.  I raise up on my knees to wait for you.  My thighs and calves are throbbing and when they touch it gets worse.

Before long, I see you come back.

Two snaps.

I turn to face you.  I am proud that I remember to meet your eyes.  You pat your knee.  I smile slightly, without showing teeth.  I lay my head down on your knee and am relieved when your fingers start toying with my hair.

“You have done well pet.  I am proud of you.”

I make a small, content noise.  Thank you, Sir.  It brings me peace to hear that.  I live to make you happy.

“Lay out for me pet.  Face down, arms at your sides.”

I do as you ask.  I appreciate that you always let me keep my hands at my side.  One day I will remember to mention that to you.  I am internally relieved that my body stays lax when your hands touch me.  I can feel something cold and smooth being spread across my skin.  It soothes the pain minimally.  Your hands apply even pressure as they move.  I am grateful for your attention.

When you stop, I am loath to move.  Regardless of the cold concrete, my body has fully relaxed.  Hopefully I will not become too stiff tonight.  “Stay.”  Who am I to argue with your instructions, Sir?

I can hear you moving around, even with your footfalls as light as they are.  I hear the clinking of metal.  What are you doing, Sir?

“Come here pet.”  I struggle to push myself up from the floor and look to find where you are.  You are by the cage.  I cock my head to the side in confusion but dutifully crawl forward.  When I reach you, your fingers slide down the side of my face, and you cup my cheek.

“Tonight, you sleep here.  I want you to think over everything that has happened and the punishment that you have endured.  I will let you choose pet.  If you cannot see yourself fully submitting to me, and trusting me, I will give you the option to go back up to auction.”  

My eyes widen.  My heart races with panic.  No. No. No.

Your thumb brushes my lips, and you shush me.  “Do not answer me tonight pet.  Tonight, you need to be honest with yourself.  Tomorrow, you will be honest with me.”  

Two snaps.  

I look up at you.  I see you smile but there is something in your eyes I cannot quite place.  I feel your hands reach for the back of the metal collar. I bring my palms up to hold it, should you need.  You drop the collar into my hands.  I feel the leather collar take its place and I have never felt such relief.  Once it is locked, you step back.

“It is time.”  You step around me to stand at the open cage door.  I crawl the couple feet to the entrance.  I turn to face you but keep my eyes down this time.  Without hesitation, I give into an impulse.  If this is my last night with you, then I want you to clearly understand what your kindness means to me.

I lean forward, and I kiss your left boot three times.  Then I kiss the right, also three times.  I place my forehead on the concrete and say very clearly, “thank you Master.”  No matter how my body (and my mind) are pained by what has transpired, I am grateful for your correction.  After a moment of silence, I lift my head and crawl into the cage.  You have been kind enough to line it with a warm blanket and pillow.  Once I am settled, I hear the lock snick into place.

I stare up at you as you rise.

“Think about what I have said pet.  Tomorrow, when I ask, I expect you to have an answer.”

With that, the light is extinguished.  I am alone in the dark once more.

Curling on my side, one of my hands comes up to rub the leather of my collar.

Maybe I don’t have to be alone anymore.

Erotica: Learning To Trust The Master

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I sigh quietly. I am really fucking bored. I really do want to make Master proud, but it is very hard to stay focused when there is so little to do.

Right now, my head is resting on Master’s thigh. His hand is in my hair, the strands running through his fingers. I love when he does this. It always makes me feel cherished.  Often times, I feel forgotten when his attention is no longer on me.  It is as though I become invisible. 

I sigh once more, letting all the voices wash over me. I am the only pet here and W/we have been here for–let me see–four hours now. Any longer and I swear I am going to bash my head into the table.

See, Master refused to leave me alone in His rooms after my fever last night. He told me that since I could not be trusted to tell Him exactly how I felt, He would just have to keep me with Him.  Honestly, sitting here, listening to the other Masters discuss the running of the compound, is far worse than any punishment Master has given yet. 

Master assured me this morning that it wouldn’t be a very long meeting. But, I am so tired. I can feel the pin pricks in my lower back.  This means things are not going to end well. Master is going to be very upset when He sees the largest omission so far.  

Finally, Master rises, and I feel a pat on my head, telling me to rise as well. Swiftly and silently, I do as asked, and wait for everyone to leave. 

I know what is coming.

I trail behind Master as we snake our way through the connecting hallways.  I am unsure what Master has planned for the rest of today, I am only praying that I can escape his sights long enough to compose myself.

My hands clench tightly.  Apparently, luck is not on my side.

Almost as soon as the door closes, my knees give out. I hit the floor roughly my body tense. My palms hit the floor in front of me, holding the bulk of my weight. I know this will pass.  I close my eyes tightly.  Master has never seen this before.  I would say I fear his reaction, but I am more resigned than anything.

The first Master (or my maker as I often refer to him) did not react well to my imperfections.

I am thrown against the wall. I know better than to pick myself up.  Maker prefers to see me beneath him.  I have no desire to antagonize him further.

“I put all this effort into you slut, and this is how you repay me?”  he snarls at me, his spit hitting my side. 

My head is resting on the inside of my arm.  As I feel Maker stand atop my hands, I knew instantly I should have protected them.  His weight is heavy.  I am beyond making noises of discontent.  The darkness in my right eye taught me that lesson.

He turns his boots, grinding down onto my knuckles.  It is an indescribable pain.  I will be cradling them for days if he continues.  He steps off my hands after a couple minutes and proceeds to kick me in the stomach.

I hold firm in my silence.  I must pick the lesser of two evils.  Right now, he will take any sound as disobedience.

“Get up.” He growls at me.  “Lest I beat you where you lay.”

He knows I can’t.  That is why he is so angry to begin with.  I am nothing but a disgrace at this point.  Broken.  Disfigured.  Disappointment.

“In position.”

I roll onto my stomach, my arms stretched above my head and my legs are as straight as I could manage without moving them.

“You will count.  When you cannot manage to count anymore, I may consider your punishment served.”

Without the benefit of a warm-up, I felt the raw sting of his cane.  “One, Maker.”

Another. “Two, Maker.”

Again.

And again.

Once he got bored of the cane, around forty hits or so, he switched to the ball-chain flogger.  Its feeling is unmistakable.  It is sharp and cold, uncaring of my pain.

“Forty-five, Maker.”

I lost count around sixty.  My fists were clenched and my eyes dripping.  The harsh breathing of both of us echoed throughout the dungeon.  He did not stop.  In his words, he promised to only think about it.

It was a blessing when I passed out.  Though, when I awoke, I found myself shivering and alone in the darkness.

Even now, that phantom cold seeps into my bones from time to time.

My body is tired.  I have not been entirely honest with Master about how I am recovering.  Just a couple nights ago, He chastised me for not telling him I was ill.  I don’t know how to explain to him that I have never been allowed to be sick.  

I am, and must always be, fine.

When the tensing eased, and my breathing settled, I took a small liberty and looked up.  I was almost convinced (and quite hopeful) that he had just left me to my devices.  I was not that lucky.

My eyes met his.  I can see the concern in them.  I do not understand why he is so worried.  He can always get another toy.

When it becomes apparent that I am not going to give the reasons for my collapse, I hear him sigh.  “Come here, pet.”

I weigh the options.  Either way, I am in trouble.  Do I speak out of turn and tell him the truth, or do I stay silent and let Master believe I am willfully ignoring Him?

Deep breath.  “I can’t, Sir.”

Two snaps. “Now.”

“I can’t Sir.  I am sorry.”

“You seem to be saying that a lot lately.” You uttered softly.  I watched you rise from the chair and move forward.  Before I could protest, your arms wrapped around me, and I was cradled to you.  I rest my head against your chest, your heartbeat steady in my ears.  

I do not know how I thought to hide this from you.  I just didn’t want to be auctioned again Sir.  Please don’t send me back.

We ended up at my favorite spot.  You sat me on the floor at the base of your wingback chair.  The carpet is soft here and it is close enough to the fireplace to stay warm but far enough that I stay comfortable.  As much as I haven’t mentioned it, I think you know that the light of the fireplace soothes me.

My back is set against the chair leg, and I slowly rearrange my legs so they are stretched out in front of me.  My hands start massaging the back of my thighs.  This is going to be a slow and painful process, but necessary to get feeling back in them before dawn.

You reach down, sliding your hands into my armpits.  You pull me sideways until I am sitting between your legs.  I continue massaging once you let go.

“You have some explaining to do, girl, and I want the whole truth. We just discussed that I will not allow you to continue to omit information, especially regarding your health.  If you cannot be honest, I will release you.”

My hands pause.  I shiver.  I hate when his voice gets like this.  I do not want to go back.  No one will take me.  I will be fodder for the masses.

Should I beg you Sir?  Should I apologize for trying to please you?  I have only ever been ridiculed Sir, and I just wanted to be perfect for you.  

Softly, I stumble to answer you.  “If you can give me an hour or so, Sir, to be able to move, I will get out of your sight.”

Your hands drop onto my shoulders and grip ever so slightly.  I can sense you are trying not to lose your temper with me.  You tilt my head back so our eyes meet, and I can no longer hide the tears in my lashes.

“Talk to me.”  

“You said you were sending me away Sir.  I am unsure what is left to say.” I answer flatly.  

“No, I said I would if you could not learn to trust me completely.”

“I am trying Master.” Why wouldn’t he believe me?

“Then why do you question me so and why have you not told me what caused your collapse earlier? Tell me, why do you skirt the questions?”

Finally, I snapped. My temper fiery and out of control. I snapped my head forward, fighting against him as he tried to tug it back.  

“Do you really want to know about this? I am broken Master.  Nothing more than a marionette living on borrowed time.  It is called Hypokalemic Periodic Paralysis.  What it means is that I will never live up to what you want Sir.  You were swindled.  You bought a broken toy Sir.”  My hands tightened on my thighs.  “They call me a monster Sir.  I scare them.  You are the first to see me without seeing Maker first.  I did not intend to deceive you.  I just didn’t want to go back.”  

The fight is gone from me.  I have blown it.  Surely Master will toss me to the wolves now.

Calmly, Master listens to me vent.  I stare into the fire.  It was only the even tempo of his breathing that keeps me from falling into myself.

“How does this affect you, pet?”

I am a little startled at your question Master, but I answer quietly.  “If I can keep massaging the muscle, I am more likely to get feeling and movement back sooner.  It jumpstarts the sensations.”

You stand and step over me.  You hold your hands out for mine and I grip them tightly.  You spin me slightly until my side is against the chair.  “Are you able to lay back unassisted?”

“Yes, Sir.”  I hate this position.  It brings back so many terrible memories.  I lay back and move to raise my arms.  You let me know I can keep them by my side.  While I know I will never raise my arms against you, it brings me comfort to know it is physically an option.

“I am going to massage your legs.  You will tell me if, at any time, it hurts.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Master.”

And so it went.  Every so often, I would wince just a little too much, and you would stop and wait.  The first time I did not understand.  So, you tapped the spot on my leg again, and when I winced, I understood.

“That hurts, Sir.”

You nodded and continued.  By the time you finished, there was no hesitation in telling you when it hurt.

“Better.  You are learning, pet.”

I smile, ever so slightly.  I lifted my head enough to watch my toes.  With much concentration, the toes started to twitch.  No matter how many times I go through this, it always brings relief when I can move once more.  

You crouch down and offer me a hand to pull me into a sitting position.  “It is good to see movement.”  You meet my eyes.  “and even better to see you smile.”

I had forgotten He had never seen me smile.  I have learned to keep hidden the gruesome sharps that were once my teeth.

I looked up at Master, surprised.  “Do you wish to see me smile Sir?”

He raises his eyebrow in challenge.

So, hard as it is, I meet his eyes and smile.

It feels sinister.

When You lean down, kiss my forehead, and tell me I am a good girl, I know I was right to trust you.

Punishment, harsher than You have yet to give me, awaits me tomorrow.  I know that.  I have taken many missteps since you purchased me, Master.

But, if I can smile without making you recoil in disgust, then I will bear whatever you have to offer.

Even as broken as I am, I am at your service, Master.

Thank you for leaving the light on.

Erotica: The Monster, The Maker, and The Master

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I knelt by the fireplace.  My knees burn with the effort.  My legs have long since gone numb.  I am waiting for Master.  He said He would be but a few minutes, and yet the chime of the clock mocks the hour mark.  

I am worried about him.  I cannot help it.  Master is extremely capable of taking care of himself. I would not wish my worst enemy to turn his ire, but I cannot help the slight stuttering of my heart as the clock hands tick.

My body is starting to bend.  My posture is failing, my back bending forward weakly.  I feel tired and weak, but I refuse to disobey Master.  He ordered me to wait and wait I shall.

My eyes drift close thinking about Him.  He has done so much for me.  He let me see the light again.  He touches me with kindness.  He speaks to me as though I am a person.  While I know it is an illusion, it is one I cling to desperately.

Anything is better than before.  I will not disappoint Him.  To do so only means I will be sent away…or worse, forgotten.

He had said only a few minutes and yet the time has passed, bringing back only anxiousness in return.  I am trying to remind myself that I live by His time, not mine. But still, it is unlike him to be late. I know my Master and he is punctual, easily displeased when others are not. 

I want to look for him. Even numb, my knee twitches as though to lift my weight.  I lean back further onto my haunches.  I know better.  I am to stay where I am.

The fireplace is dimming now.  My body is on fire, but the chill is rapidly cooling the sweat beaded on my skin. The embers mock me as the darkness falls.  I do not like the darkness.  I spent far too long submerged in it to ever again be comfortable.

I close my eyes.  If I pretend the darkness is simply because my eyes are closed, I may yet survive this.

My mind starts drifting back to before Master owned me.  Drifting back to the lessons of a madman and his monster.

“Stupid wench.  How hard is it to please my friends?  Your sobs do not make for a good fuck!”  He threw me to the ground.  I could barely get my barrings before his hand wrapped threw my hair and he dragged me across the cold cement.  My eyes watered from the pain. I tried so hard to stay quiet, to not fuel his rage, but I couldn’t help the small sob that escaped.  

He flipped me over, my outer thigh scraped from the pavement and my knees bruised from the force of falling on them.  He pulled me to my feet, my arms limp at my sides.  I knew better than to fight him.  

I am to be punished.

Without a word, he finally lets my hair loose and sets about securing my wrists in the shackles hanging from the ceiling.  They are secured high enough that I have to stay on my tip toes to remain standing.  My body sways in the chains.  He leaves my feet free because he knows I will move.  At some point, I will try to shift the weight from my wrists.  I know, as does He, that all that does is knock my center of balance and ends up wounding me more.

I close my eyes.  This will not be pleasant.  I have disgraced him, amongst his peers.  

His fury has settled into silence.  My skin has developed goosebumps.  The hairs are standing on end.  Why isn’t he doing anything?

Deep breath.

Time passes slowly in the dark.  I do not know how long I have been here.  I can hear the scurrying of a mouse or two, but without light, it is hard to tell the time.  

I suddenly feel the strike of a whip.

My body tenses in surprise.  My eyes open but its hard to tell.  The darkness is too oppressing.

Again.

And Again.

The tears are falling heavy and my chest is heaving with sobs.

Again.

And Again.

I am pulling at the shackles as hard as I can.  I just want to run.  My legs feel weak from how long I have been there.  

Again

And Again.

My back is on fire.  It drips with either blood or sweat.  It makes the floor slick beneath me.

Again.

I’ve begged him to stop.  I’ve apologized over and over again.  I’ve promised to never shame him again.  He stays silent.

Again.

The sobs have quieted now.  I have no tears left and my voice is raw from screaming.  

Another.

Three more in succession and all I can do is let out small gasps.  I have no words, no tears, no fight left in me.

He unhooked me and my body dropped like lead.

His voice surrounds me when he does speak.  “We will go until you can take this in silence.  You will never shame me again with your incessant crying.”

I spent a week in the darkness.  I earned my food and water only when I could keep from making sounds during his cruelty.

He alternated after that first session.  He would strike several times and then stop.  He would leave uneven lengths of space between his rounds.  I was tired. I just wanted it to end.

And it did.

The moment he missed and took sight from my left eye.

The memories faded from my conscious as I came to awareness. My eyes blink rapidly, trying to push my horrific past from my mind. 

I did not think I had fallen asleep, Sir. I feel a hand running through my hair and my eyes finally start to focus in on the soft glow of your bedroom.  I wouldn’t have come in here without your permission Sir.  I promise.  That must mean you brought me in here.

Had I fallen asleep?  I must have.  Oh no.

I can feel my body tensing against you.  Your hand stops caressing my locks.

My voice is shaking, and my words are barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry Master. I didn’t mean to, really I didn’t. I tried, I’m sorry.” My voice sticks in my throat and, for the first time since my sight was taken, I could feel the tears spill through my lashes. I couldn’t help it. I have disappointed you. “I-I…”

My head drops from your chest and I move swiftly from my position next to you, until I am kneeling on the bed in the same position I had been by the fireplace.

If I had been thinking clearly, I would recognize that I had both spoken out of turn and removed myself from your grasp.  But everything is fairly fuzzy in my panic.

I see your hands reach for me, and then you are gently trying to pull me back to you. I tense. “Pet,” Your voice is firm with warning.  

I have no desire to upset you further Sir.  I take a deep breath and consciously relax my body, resisting minimally as you pull me into your lap. My shoulder leans against your chest and I feel the warmth of your hand as you urge my head to rest upon your shoulder.

“Why did you panic, pet? It is not like you to resist. You may speak freely.”

I take a deep breath and thank the Gods you have not made me meet your eyes.  “I-I fell asleep Master. I remember waiting for you and now I am in here. You must have carried me Sir. I do not understand why you did not just leave me there.  I apologize for failing you.” My voice wavers during the last sentence, but I have said what I must.

“No, pet, you did not.”  My head turned up to meet your eyes.  “I found you unconscious. Your body was burning with fever. It only broke a couple of hours ago. I had not expected you to wake at all tonight. Why did you not tell me?” You stare into my eyes, waiting patiently for me to gather my thoughts.  I break eye contact and swallow harshly.

“I thought I would be okay Sir. You said you would be back in a few minutes, and I did not wish to worry you.  My discomfort comes after You, Sir.”

“I had not expected to be gone so long. I received a call I had been waiting for.”  Your fingers grip my chin and you bring my head back up to face you. “I thought we had agreed you would tell me these things?” You sound disappointed, Sir. 

Now that is true pain.

“Yes, Sir. I just, I didn’t feel that bad. I was only a little sore. If I thought I was going to pass out, I would have told you.”

“We are going to have to work on your sense of worth.  I want to know any discomfort you are feeling pet. For now, you will rest. Is that clear?” 

“Yes Master.” You nodded that you heard me.  I attempted to get up, but your hand on my chest had me stilling.

 I swallowed, “Sir?”

“I said rest, pet.  Tonight, you share with me.”

You stripped down and climbed in behind me.  My body molded into yours.  

Tomorrow, I am sure we will address the punishment for omitting too much when I told you I was fine.  Just as I am sure that my scale of “fine,” may be redefined.

But, for tonight, I will curl up with you.

Maybe, now, I won’t fear the darkness.

Erotica: The Master and The Monster

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**This story contains depictions of edge play in the forms of electricity, knives, blood, and implied consent/CNC.  The implied consent is based on the Total Power Exchange of an M/s dynamic.  It also references past trauma as experienced by the slave who tells this tale**

I am often overlooked down here as I sit quietly at Master’s feet.  There is a thick leather collar around my neck and a steel band, around my thigh, whose chain is secured to an eyebolt in the floor.  It keeps me in place while still allowing me a moderate amount of movement.  But Master always leaves my arms free.  He has done so since the first time someone felt it right to attack his property.

Since then, he has also kept my mouth covered with black cloth when I am not by his side.  

You see, I scare people.  Or so I have been told.

My previous Master had a sick sense of humor.  He liked to play with his toys until they were broken.  And if he twisted us enough, he was sure no one would take us.

I am one of the lucky ones.  I bare the fewest scars, but I look the most fearsome.

There is a deep cut from my forehead, through my right eye, and down past my ear.  He took my sight on that side with a single whiplash.  He had my teeth sharpened to points.  I’ve been told that when I smile, its horrific.  There are slices down my back from when he played too rough while he was drinking, and a couple burns on my right thigh.  But it is my face that keeps people away.

I am used to it now.  I don’t speak anymore unless Master asks me a question.  I don’t dream.  I don’t ask for anything and I never allow myself to crave anything.

I simply exist.

I exist for Master’s pleasure.

The taste of blood is frequent, even after all these years.  I constantly swipe my tongue over my teeth and they nick it in protest.  I find it soothing. It reminds me of meeting an old friend.

Master is too kind.  He treats me delicately.  He holds back.

It…hurts.

I can see the craving in his eyes to bend me back and take his pleasure.  I see the desire to take his Sadistic needs out on my flesh.

But then I see the hesitancy when he caresses my face.  When his thumb slides down the marred flesh, I see a caring that limits him with me.  I want to tell him it’s ok.  I want to shout that I am forever in his debt and he can do as he wishes.

But I don’t say a word.

What right do I have to direct Him or His actions?

So, I wait.

Maybe soon, he will notice me as more than just a monster.

Maybe.

Master is Sadistic.  Have I mentioned that?  He likes to watch someone’s body tighten, to see them sweat.  He likes to see them grit their teeth to take what he gives.  But, most of all, he likes to see the bliss on their face.  To see them get satisfaction from enduring what only he can provide.  He likes to see them happy….and sore.

And they fall all over Him.

I watch beauty after beauty prostrate before him.  I watch them bend and burn for him.  I watch their pain, and their passion, and I see their growing attachement to him.

Not one of them will come near me.  

But he draws them in like moths to a flame.

He is intoxicating.

I think Master gets enjoyment out of watching me.  See, I love to feel his fingers through my hair.  Often, I curl between his legs, with my back to his chair, and lean my head on his thigh.  And though I never let Master see, I am sure to give a smile full of teeth to every person I watch pass our room.

He chuckles darkly from time to time when someone gasps.  They all try to be nonchalant, but no one has Mastered it yet.

It amuses me.

It makes the passing of time easier until he takes me to our private chambers each night.

While this probably makes me ill-behaved, Master hasn’t chastised me yet.  So, I must be doing something right.

My eyes are closed when another visits.  As I crack my good eye open, I see it is a far cry from another grovelling slave.  It is another Master.  I know better than to meet his gaze.  There are some things even I cannot get away with.

But I take him in.  He wears nothing but black.  His t-shirt and jeans are as dark as coal.  His vest is dark but blazing with colors.  They are too blurry for me to read.  His boots are dirty.  I can tell he must live in them.

He speaks softly and passes Master a note. This must not be for a slave’s ears.

Master taps my head twice and I instantly move back to the side of his chair.  As Master stands, my hands slip under his cushion and pull the black cloth.  I slip it over my face, in time for Master to give me a nod of approval.  

I lean my head against the side of the chair and close my eyes.  I know Master will wake me when he needs me.

I am unsure of how much time has passed when I feel Master’s fingers in my hair.  I look up at him and he is grinning.  

Two snaps.

I move to kneel in front if him.  He leans forward and removes the cloth from my face.  His hand cups the side of my face and his thumb trails delicately over the scarring.

“I have a gift for you.”

I cock my head to the side.  A gift?  I am curious as to what I have done to earn such a privilege.  

“Thank you Master.”  I smile slightly, with my mouth closed.

“It will be delivered shortly.”

Two snaps.

I return to the side of his chair.  I face the door.  My curiosity has the best of me.

With my last Master, surprises meant pain.  They meant a lot of blood and a lot of crying. But this Master is kind.  He takes care of me.  He lets me sit on a cushion instead of the cold floors.  He keeps me fed.  And he doesn’t look at me with pity or disgust.

I am uneasy but I know it will be ok.  Whatever the surprise, I am sure he knows what he is doing.

He is a good Master.

A girl.  You have gifted me a girl, Master.  

Do I get to play?

I stared at the girl thrown at Master’s feet.  She is stoic.  She is breathing heavily.  She must be nervous.  She won’t look up from the floor.  She is also refusing to rise onto her knees.  Her intentions are clear.  She is intending to refuse her orders.

I don’t need to hear what was said previously to see what is happening.  Master is good at training.  She isn’t the first to be put before him.  But she is the first to be gifted to me.

She must have offended him.  He is sending a message to her, and her handler, that she has not earned the right to be touched by him.  She is not worth his time.

But she is worth mine.

She is a pretty little thing.  Her hair is black.  It is braided tightly and cascades down to her ass.  She is petite and her skin is bronzed.  She has spent many hours in the sun.  Her arms and legs are thin. She is definitely not a work slave. I wonder if she is new to the fold or possibly a house or pleasure slave.

She has the gold markings around her wrists and ankles.  The rest of her is bare.  

When she finally looks up, I smile.  I see her eyes widen and I can feel her fear.

It’s delicious.

Master rarely lets me play with others.  I tend to be fairly sadistic.  The other Masters don’t let me near their toys.  So often, I am left by Master’s chair while he plays with others.  Unless he brings out the electricity.  Then I get to watch.  He lays them across his table, mere feet from where I sit.

I find it fascinating.  Watching the girls squirm is entertaining.  He goes so gentle with some of them.  Especially those whose Masters stay nearby.  But those left to him to take his pleasure from get a whole different experience.

Their bodies bow off the table, akin to a scene from Frankenstein.  Their voices are breathy, save for a few who unwillingly curse at Master.  It’s amusing to see his reaction.

The result is always the same.  They leave his table shaking and sated.  His eyes glow and his body vibrates with energy. It’s those moments that he unleashes me and takes his pleasure.  It is those moments that I feel useful and owned.

It’s those moments, brought by the subjugation of others, that I stop feeling like a monster.

Master stands and turns towards me.  I kneel up, my back rigid and my eyes firmly on the floor.  I let out a deep, cleansing breath.  I feel him unlock the leather collar from my neck.  In its place, I feel the cold snap of the metal collar.  Its electrified.  Should I disobey, punishment is swift and merciless.  The electric collar always comes out to play when I am unleashed now.  Apparently fighting other slaves is not an approved behavior.

Then he unhooks a key from his belt, crouches down, and unlocks the iron around my thigh.  As he sets the iron down, I lean forward until my head is between his boots.  I kiss the left boot three times and repeat the action on the right before returning my forehead to the floor and whispering, “thank you Master.”

Master returns to his seat.

Two snaps.

I kneel back up.

“Entertain me, pet.”

At his words, I prowl forward on my hands and knees.

I hope she tries to run.

She is shaking.  

It is delightful.

I make sure I move enough to give Master a good show of my ass.  It takes me only a few steps to cross the room to her.  She isn’t moving.  In fact, she has stilled like prey.

Is it bad I wanted a fight, Master?

I reach out and run a finger down her side.  Her skin is cool to the touch.  I briefly wonder how long she has been uncovered on the cold floor before she was put here.  

She jerks away and I snap my jaw at her, as if poised to bite.  She screams.  Her arms reach out as if there were spots in the floor to pull her away from me.

My hand clamps down on her hip and I flip her into her back with little effort.  My arms are much stronger than hers.

I straddle her waist and pin her wrists down with my right hand.  My left wanders down the side of her face.

“What a pretty prize you are.”  My voice is low and gravelly.  I cannot speak much more than a whisper. I don’t really know why.  I can guess but it hasn’t mattered in a long time.  Slaves aren’t meant to speak.

I brought my fingers down, hovering slightly over her nipple.  I turned my head to glance at Master.  He nodded in confirmation.

I rolled her nipple between my thumb and forefinger.  Her breath hitched.  She must be sensitive.  I tugged on it lightly before twisting it and letting go.  I flicked it several times before tugging and twisting again.  The more I did it, the more she arched under me.  When her nipple was engorged and aching, I switched my attention to her other nipple.  I swapped the hands holding her wrists and repeated the treatment. 

She is whining, low in her throat.  I can tell she is trying to be quiet.  She is trying to hold back.  

I click my tongue.  Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

I lean down to her ear so she can hear me clearly.  “You will scream for us before we are done sweetie.”  I licked the shell of her ear before returning to playing with my prize.

I let my nails drag across her stomach.  She is twisting beneath me.  My thighs can hold her tiny frame in place.  But I am excited to see her reactions.

It is much better play when the prey fights back.

I scoot my ass back a few inches until I am resting on her thighs.  I decide to see what she will do.  I let go of her wrists.

I lean back and rest on my haunches.  I stare her down.  I drag my nails down her chest, between the curves of her breasts.  Once my eyes left hers though, I learned my mistake.

I felt a hard smack to the side of my face.  My neck turned with the force.  I growled.  It’s not that she hit me Master.  Its that she hit me on my blindside.  That’s just dirty tactics.

I turned back to meet her eyes and I grabbed each of her wrists with my corresponding hands.  I gripped tightly.  I am trying not to bruise her…after all, she isn’t mine permanently.

I lean down near her shoulder and drag my top teeth across it.  They are sharp enough to draw blood.  I lap it up and hold it in my mouth.

I move her hands to her sides and kneel on them.  Then I grab her chin with bruising force and lean down to kiss her.  I let the blood, her blood, trickle into her mouth.  Then I cover her mouth with my hand until she swallows.

I watch her shudder.

She wants to hit me hard enough to taste blood, it is only fair to return the favor.

I lick the salty tears trailing down her face.  I am growing bored with her now.  

Master said I should entertain him.

An idea pops into my head.

I wrap her braid around my fist and move off her.  I give her a moment to flip over but she makes no effort to move.

So, I start dragging her.  She is begging me to let go.  But we both know how this works.  You go where directed or you are moved by force.

She made her choice.

I reach the wall and crouch down, still holding her hair. 

“Stand.  Or I will make you.”

She moves with purpose this time.  I stand her up, her back to the wall, and attach a metal cuff to each wrist.  They are above her head, stretched out to an X shape, leaving her standing on the balls of her feet.

Endurance.  That was a lesson I struggled with myself.  Let’s see if she can do better.

I roughly grab both her nipples without warning, pinching and pulling them away from her body.  Her feet are dancing, trying to alleviate the pain.

I lean in and bite the side of each breast, semi-gently.  I want her to heal.  As the blood begins to slowly seep out, I let her nipples go and watch her body bounce back in relief.

The blood is glistening.  It excites me.

I turn from her and kneel, facing Master.  My lips are still red from tasting her.  I keep my eyes down, waiting for the command to come back.

Instead, I hear his boots on the cement.  I still the quivering in my body.  I am riled up from playtime and I crave his touch.

His boots come into view and I immediately lean forward with my head on the floor.

Two snaps.

I am kneeling upright again.

Two snaps.

I climb it my feet and put my hands on my elbows behind my back.

Two snaps.

My eyes move to meet his.

He is grinning.  I can see the Sadistic glint in his eyes.

He pulls me forward by the electric collar and growls into my ear.  “You’ve done well, pet.”

He pulls my hair into his fist and tilts my neck before biting down at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.  My hands break rank as I grab for his shirt.  He knows this will bring me to my knees.  Harder and harder he bites until my first knee hits the ground.  I let out a breathy sound just before my second knee drops.  I can smell the copper tang.  He drew blood.

My head is tilted back and as he kisses me, my own blood trickles between my lips.  It is warm.  His tongue his hot against mine.  It is almost dizzying.  When he pulls back, I swallow the remaining liquid and stare up at him.  I feel drunk now.  When he lets go of my hair, my body slumps, heaving great breaths.  

Master really is intoxicating.

I almost forgot we had a guest.  Then I heard the tell-tale whine.  She is rattling the chains.  She is starting to give me a headache.  

She is interrupting my bliss.

I growl again and climb back to my feet, turning to face her.  I take the first step towards her and Master halts me with his hand.

I still.  I am dissatisfied with the direction, but I know better than to question it.  

He moves away from her and puts a finger to his lips to keep me silent.  I see where he is headed and I finally understand why.

I watch as he grabs his knife and tucks a cord through his belt.  He has just turned himself into a conduit for electricity.

He’s going to play with her.

He is going to paint her pretty with fine red lines of electric current through the tip of his blade.

She won’t know what hit her.

I can hear the soft buzzing of the electricity.  I am positive she can too, especially how this room echoes.

I am watching Master move.  His steps are light but sure.  He stays just out of her sight.  I can see the soft stains of the blood marks and sweat intermingling on her flesh.  It is both erotic and enticing.

I catch Master’s eye.  He smirks and I watch as he licks the blade from base to tip.  I shiver.  He is teasing me.  I doubt if he even feels the electricity anymore.  I am positive it must run through his veins.

He lays the blade flat on her stomach, covering her navel.  I know she won’t get much of a jolt with such a broad surface but the cold with react with the heat of her skin.

Sure enough, she looks down and tries to press herself back against the wall.  I am amused.  If there is something sharp touching you, it is best practice not to move.

But adrenaline and fear will often override common sense.  That’s what makes it so delicious.

Master slowly lifts the blade and turns it on its tip.  He drags it from her naval, up between her breasts, and slowly across both shoulders before sliding it back down.  He follows the path a couple of times, watching her.  She is mesmerized by the movement.  Where he turns the blade, her gaze follows.

He slides it down her breast, circling the dark patch around her nub.  He taps the blade against her nipple.  She gasps.  I watch him repeat the process to the other side before he reaches towards his belt.  He turns up the current.  The next round will be harsher.

Again and again, he works her over.  Turning the current up and down without warning.  He slides the blade up her thighs and across her stomach.  He tortures her nipples with both the blade and his hands.  He makes her stick out her tongue and he touches the tip of the blade to it.

I flinch.  I know that feeling.

I can smell her arousal.  It lingers in the air.  As much as she whines and cries, her body is betraying her.  Her sensitivity is heightened.  Instead of running away, her body arches towards him now.

They all break for him in the end.

He warns her not to move.  He drags the blade softly across her hips and down to her hood.  He reaches back and turns off the current for a moment, sheathing his knife.

I watch him mercilessly take two fingers and start rubbing her clit.  He does not give her any respite.  He keeps the pressure heavy and the movements fast.  

She moans and cries and begs him.  A littany of pleases leave her lips and he pays her no mind.  When she reaches the edge, he stops.  

Her body curls in on herself as tears form on her lashes.

He turns the current back on and runs the blade over her skin again and again.  Once he sees her body settle into the play, he flips it off and brings her to the edge again.

This time though, when he stops, he keeps her lips spread, turns the current back on, and taps the blade over and over against her clit.

I know from experience how sharp the sensation is.  But when you are in the state she’s in, it doesn’t matter much.

All you want is more.

Her chest is heaving.  I can tell she is tiring out. So can Master.

He has me sit down on the floor as he removes her restraints.  Her head rests on the floor next to me.  

I run my fingers through her hair.  Being worked over and left on edge is a hard lesson.  

She will be fine in a little while.

Master rubs her down with a burn cream.  We want her to heal.

Her eyes are only half-open, and the fight has left her.  She shivers from the cold floor.  

Master locks a matching electrical collar around her neck before he picks her up.  He moves to the other side of the room.  He opens the door to one of the iron cages, lined with wool blankets, and lays her gently inside.

He locks the door.

“Keep her company, pet.  She’s ours now.”

Where in the hell is Macedonia? Part 1

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Shelley and Pascal have been exclusive since Covid lockdown-March 2020.  Neither one of them had planned on exclusivity, but a world pandemic makes strange playfellows. If someone needs a label, Shelly is OK with being called pansexual, but Pascal was a dyed in the wool lesbian. She came out on her ninth birthday when Dorian declared his love for her, and she told him he was not a girl, so she could never love him like she loved Avril Lavine. 

The pub had not been this busy in a very long time. Pascal liked sitting next to Shelly, tucked in, protected and loved. The two sat in a non-intimate way to the uninformed observer sipping their pints and made small talk. Under the table, Shelley drew her almond-shaped nails along the creases of Pascal’s jeans on the inside of her thigh. The sensation awakened her sex. Shelly’s hand sat firmly at the crotch and thigh intersection, massaging and feeling Pascal pull her Kegels tight to control her arousal.

Dominic was at the bar people-watching. Tonight, he would hunt for a willing victim. He wanted a woman who needed to be taken, but he wanted the hunt to be challenging. He re-ordered whiskey sour when Pascal came up next to him and ordered 2 pints.

“Hi, how was your day?” he asked.

Indifferently Pascal replied with a smile and a nod. She was somewhat apathetic to men in general, but men in bars making small talk just annoyed her. She collected her drinks, smiled politely and turned and walked away. Dominic laughed and threw his head back at her response. He continued to watch the bar, barely touching his drink, inspecting and determining who he wanted to hunt tonight. The thrill of Shelley’s indifference titillated and amused him. He finished his drink and strolled over to the cozy corner Pascal and Shelley had been occupying. His 6 foot 3 frames completely blocked the lady’s view of the bar when he approached. His smile and the tenor of his voice oozed sex. His desire showed on his face as he introduced himself and asked if he could join the ladies for her drink.

Shelly immediately responded to his sexual aura by offering her hand and introducing her and her lover. The conversation moved smoothly from covid and how they had survived the lockdown job loss working remotely and food shortages for the past year.  Shelly explained that she had met Pascal when she was working a contract for a hotel here in Macedonia about a year before Covid had struck. 

The energy that flowed between Pascal and Dominic was palpable. He wanted to reach over the indifferent Pascal and kiss Shelly until she lost her breath. He envisioned pinning her against the door as he ravished those are erect nipples. The flirting and innuendo continued as they drank, and people watched from the corner of the pub. The ladies excuse themselves to go to the washroom. As they walked away from the table, Shelly hooked her finger into the belt loop of Pascal’s jeans as though to keep her close.  The two went directly into a stall in the bathroom where Shelley stood and waited for Pascal to undress her. Pascal undid Shelley’s jeans and slid them down around her knees for her. She then turned and faced the door. Well, shall they relieve herself from the bear she had rented? Pascal’s head was lowered, and her hands laid flat against her thighs. As Shelley cleared herself when she was finished, Pascal turned, knelt and licked her mistress clean. From the kneeling position, she asked permission to dress Shelly again.  She did not respond. Instead, she slid her hip forward and opened her knees, signalling her sub to do as she was supposed to. Pascal licked and sucked her mistress’ clitoris, feeling the clit go rock hard as her tongue encircled and licked, then suckling furiously until Shelley’s juices release and her body stopped gyrating against her face. Pascal pressed Shelly’s face into her throbbing cunt. Shelly’s tongue licked the moisture from her Dommes’s vagina and fucked her with her tongue. The bathroom door and stalls opened and close at least once while Shelley pleasured her Master. 

When she was sexually satiated, Shelly stood and said, “you can dress me now. You may not like how the rest of the evening will play out, but you will do, watch and learn. Do you understand?” Pascal nodded a rode and opened the stall door. She approached the sink. 

“Don’t wash your face, I w, and I him to taste me on your mouth and tongue.”

“Yes, mistress, “Pascal replied, “may I wash my hands?”

She kissed Shelley on the cheek, looked into her eyes and said, “I want you to please me this evening by being very obedient?” Pascal lowered hr head and consented to do as she was told.

As Shelley washed her hands, she explained that she wanted Pascal to return to the table, slide in so that she would be next to their new friend. She was to slide close to him, face him and make eye contact. Hold his gaze, do blink as you need to, but don’t speak. 

“Yes, mistress,” Shelley fell in behind her mistress, and they returned to the table.

Dominic fought the urge to adjust himself and rub the erection, which pressed against his button fly. Everything about this woman was attractive. She had a presence about her. A quiet confidence that made her worthy of being hunted. Pascal was a soft, beautiful woman, but he could tell that she would prefer he went away. As the night wore on, the pub became more crowded, and the music got louder, and flirting became exponentially more challenging. He was casually scrolling through his phone and scanning the bar population.

Pascal did as she was told and slid in next to their new friend. She slid until her thigh pressed against his, and her face was so close, she could feel the heat coming off of his face. Pascal slid in tightly behind Shelley, pressing Pascal tightly between her and Dominic. Pascal was aware of her body and noticed how being pressed between these two strong people gave her the same comfort and satisfaction as wearing her collar and being constrained by her mistress. Instinctually he leaned back and took a moment to read the vibe. Pascal pressed into her mistress, waiting for her to speak to this man.  Mistress didn’t talk. Instead, she reached around Pascal and ran her manicured fingers along the side of his face and down his collar. She kissed Pascal’s neck and held his gaze. Pascal stretched and laid her head on her mistress’ shoulder lingering in the sensation of heat and pressure against her cerotic. 

He smiled wryly, “there is nothing I can say right now that isn’t going to sound cheezie.”

“Let’s try, honest. You are both magnificent.”

Shelley withdrew her hand and held Pascal’s face as they kissed.

Dominic turned his body into the woman, “This is my regular pub, but I’ve never seen either of you here before?”

“No, we are live a few hours away. We’re here to do some camping.”

“Well, you aren’t camping now?”

“No, we are not,” she said as she ran her fingers down his forearm. 

“Have you been to Guise, the local gay bar?

Pascal joined the conversation, “we have all the gay we need, right here.”

Dominic’s laugh was lovely and natural, “that is awesome! I want to get to know you two much better.” I’m going to pop to the toilet.

As he left, the women chatted while Shelly was smiling broadly and delighted with what he was offering. Pascal was less impressed but adored her mistress and wanted her to be happy. “Is this what you wish to Madame?

“She squeezed Pascal’s hand. “yes.”

“As you wish” She haled deeply and exhaled slowly as she watched Dominic cross the bar towards them. 

To be continued…

Erotica: The Laughter Of Kink

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I asked what you wanted, as I have many times before.  Usually, you will tell me you are unsure, and decide in the moment what will please you.  This time you had an answer.

“I want to hear you laugh.”

I was taken aback.  Have I been so depressed that you are unable to see something so simple?  Has it become so rare you feel the need to request it?  I am disheartened to think I have stopped giving you such a small thing.

I shake my head of my thoughts and look at you. “You want me to laugh?”

“Yes.  It makes me happy to hear you laugh.”

It has been a long time since I was at a loss for words.  I do not know where to even begin to make this happen.  If it were so easy, I probably would have done so already.  It will be a challenge Sir.  But I am sure I can accommodate your request.  

I am nervous Sir.  I have been so unsure of what you have planned.  I am so afraid of disappointing you.  This is the first time you have told me what you plan to do.  I always thought that doing so would take away the anticipation.  It did not.  

You have decided on tickle torture.

I am convinced of two things.  I am probably going to piss myself.  And I am probably going to die.  Ok, that is a little dramatic, even for me.  But I cannot help it.

I am standing before you, completely exposed.  I am trying to be patient.  Methodically, you are wrapping rope around me.  My arms are folded behind me, each hand clasping an opposite forearm.  My eyes are closed, and I am trying to relax my breathing.

Ropes have never been a limit.  We just do not use them.  I have discovered that my patience is minimal when it comes to this kind of prep work.

Your hands are soft as you move the rope around me.  Ever so slowly, it tightens into place.  Finally, I hear you chuckle.  I am curious at what has amused you.  My eyes pop open just in time to catch the camera flash.  

My head dropped down to hide my blush.  No matter how depraved we get, I never cease to feel so shy when your attention is focused on me.

“Head up sweetie.”

I complied.

Your hands are tugging at different spots.  I am sure you are making sure that nothing will damage me.

“How does that feel?”

“Good, Master.  Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.  We are just getting started.”

There is that feeling again.  The nervous anticipation.  

Your fingers are running through my hair.  It is so long now.  You seem to have such a fascination with it.  I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I kneel.  As I settle, I feel a brush run through my hair.  I stay silent, enjoying the feeling.  You have never done this before.

I try to stamp down the little voice inside my head that tells me that you are dissatisfied with me for leaving my hair down.  I normally pull it back, but I thought you might enjoy the change.  Was I wrong, Sir?  Should I not have deviated from my normal routine?

I try not to let my inner thoughts ruin what you are doing.  I have to remember to breathe.  It does not matter the why.  It only matters what pleases you.

After several long moments, I feel you pull my hair back and wrap it into a ponytail.  Then I felt the telltale pull of braiding.  I have not had someone braid my hair in years.  It is odd how much I am enjoying this.

Of course, I am not blind to the fact that the nicer you are now, the rougher you will be later.

I am sure I make quite the picture, Sir.  The white ropes are stark as they crisscross over my skin.  My shoulder muscles are taunt from trying to free my hands.  My hair hangs in a braid down my back. And the beautiful cherry on top, is my jaw wrenched open by a red ball gag.  I can feel the amount of drool sliding down the sides of my mouth.

Do I glisten Sir? Are you enjoying the mess you have turned me into before we have even started?

You do not have to answer Sir.  I can see the glint in your eye. You are enjoying this.

At least you were kind enough to use the gag with holes through it. Maybe I will still be breathing at the end of this.

The first shove took me off guard.  I have been standing here, just waiting for instructions, and you have not said a word.  You just stared at me.  Do you know how unnerving that is or how much it makes me want to squirm?

But I know better.  I waited, as still as possible, for your instruction.

Suddenly, I felt your hand in the middle of my back and I was forcefully shoved.  My body hits the bed and it takes the wind out of me for a second.  I try to get my knees under me to adjust myself, but you are not letting up.

The game has begun.

I feel several rough smacks from your hand every time I try to shift up.  There is no warm-up today.  Finally, taking far longer than it should have for me to understand, I stop trying to get my knees under me.  All I am doing is giving you a target.

I start rotating my body so that I can flip onto my side.  You start tickling my feet.  I cannot help but laugh.  It sounds awfully breathy through the gag.  I hate being tickled.  Did I mention that Sir?  I despise it.  But above all, I despise anyone tickling my feet.  They are so sensitive that it often hurts.

My brain is fighting over the rules.  I am not supposed to move when you tickle me.  Because you enjoy watching me struggle.  Yet, my reflex is to kick at you.

I curl my knees up, trying to keep my feet still but move from your reach.  It is a fruitless endeavor.  You simply move closer.  My body is twisting, I have lost the battle to stay still.  I am laughing.  I turn to look at you.  Your face is filled with Sadistic glee.

In that second, I know exactly why I agreed to this.

I cannot take it anymore. My legs are kicking at you.  This just seems to amuse you more.  I roll onto my back so I can use my feet to push me up the bed, trying to escape.  You expected the move.  Your hands wrap around my ankles and tug.  My ass is at the edge of the bed.  You move over me and straddle my hips.  As you meet my eyes, your fingers move to my sides and start tickling me relentlessly.

I toss my head side to side.  Your thighs tighten on my hips.  I am pinned.  I will be at your mercy until you decide otherwise.

It hurts but I cannot stop laughing.  My brow is matted with sweat.  This is one hell of a workout.

I feel one of your hands move up my stomach and grab roughly at my boob.  Your fingers pinch my nipples tightly and you tug upward.  You are just holding it.  Every time I try to twist from the tickling.  You gave me a slight reprieve from the tickling but now both my nipples are under your sadistic hands.  

Your thumb and pointer fingers hold tight to my nipples.  You seem to enjoy pinching right where my piercings lay.  It hurts so much more, especially when you roll them until your nails are dig into the tender flesh.

You smirk down at me when I hiss in pain.  Without a word, you lean down and take my nipple between your teeth and tug harshly.  I should probably specify that the strangled noise you heard was, in fact, a gasp.  A gasp, I repeated, as you spent a few minutes alternating between each of my nipples.  

They are so tender Sir.  They will be for days.  But you know that.  You know my work clothes will press upon the tortured flesh and I will be distracted by the memories it conjures.

You let go suddenly and lean back.  Your body weight presses down on my thighs and my stomach heaves in exhaustion.  You are looking down at me.  Your eyes boring into mine.  My face is flush. I can feel it.  My jaw aches as I pant through the gag.  

I’ve never seen you so energetic during play.  You have a glow about you.  It makes me happy.

I can feel myself slipping Sir.  I can see the static starting to form around you.  The blood is rushing loudly through my ears, making it difficult to hear.  I am quickly sinking into subspace, Sir.  

I am positive you see it.

Your hand wraps in the front harness of ropes and pulls my upper body close to you.  My eyes feel blown open as I try to meet your eyes.  It is so difficult to make eye contact Sir.  I am losing focus.

You let go and I drop back to the bed.  My head bounces.  I am saddened by the loss of pressure.  

Suddenly, your hand is wrapped back in the ropes as you spin my body around.  I will never understand how you can move me as though I am weightless.  

My feet are on the wall and my legs are bent.  My head rests in the middle of the bed and I am staring up at the ceiling.  I laugh when you wrap my braid around your hands.  I understand now.

I needed a handle.  

I push against the wall, trying to alleviate the tugging on my head as I am pulled to the edge of the bed.  As my head comes to rest, hanging off the bed, I see you crouch down.  I feel you undoing the buckle of the gag.  Your fingers slide around my cheeks, towards my lips, and you gently pry the gag from between my teeth.  

The first thing I did was swallow.  I am sticky with sweat and saliva, but I unable to move to wipe it away.  As you stand, I move to lift my head, but you prevent it by stepping forward.  Your jeans press against my face.

I can smell your arousal Sir.  It excites me.

Like the good girl I am, I open wide and stick out my tongue.

Have I been good enough to get a reward Sir?  Will I get to taste you?

You stand there for a few minutes.  I feel restless. I rub my face against your jeans.  Please, Sir.  Please may I please you?

I keep still and quiet.  You do not like to feel rushed.  I am here for your pleasure, not the other way around.

Then I hear it.

Your zipper slides down and the button is tugged from its home.  Teasingly, you take your time pulling out your cock.  I have no choice but to wait patiently.  I am not in a position to initiate anything and you know it.

You put the tip to my lips.  I stick my tongue out and work my piercing around the head.  I push the tip of my tongue slightly against your slit, moving it up and down for a few strokes before I return to circling the head.  

I must have teased you a little too much.

Without warning, your length is down my throat, passed my gag reflex.  My throat is spasming around you as I gag.  I am struggling to breath.  My nose is buried in your balls and your scent is all around me, but I cannot draw breath.  

I start struggling.  My feet flatten on the bed and I lift my hips.  My lower half is twisting, trying to tell you I need to breathe.

You wait a few seconds more.

Then you pull back.  I draw breath just before you thrust in again.  Over and over, I struggle to breathe as you alternate your rhythm.  Sometimes you fuck my mouth without mercy.  Then you will bury yourself deep and wait until my body twists and turns in panic before pulling back.  

It starts to get fuzzy around here Sir.  I remember your hand wrapping around my throat as you push your length slowly back in.  You do not go far enough to trigger my gag reflex.  My chest is heaving, drawing small, short pockets of air around your cock.  

I feel as though I am suffocating but you always leave me enough room to draw breath.

When your hand leaves my neck, I feel you pull yourself from my mouth.  My eyes are struggling to stay open.  

As they slide closed, my body exhausted, I feel you finish on my face.  I can feel it across my forehead and my eyes.  There is even a bit sliding down my cheek.

I feel relaxed now Sir.  My breathing is slowing, and everything is quiet.

I feel your finger tap twice on my lips.  I open obediently.  You wipe the last of your cum across my tongue.

I must have missed you speaking.  It is rare you resort to hand signals.

It is so quiet.  

Where are you, Sir? 

My body is freezing now.  All the hairs are standing on end and I am shivering.

Your hands are like fire as they caress my skin.

I both love and hate this.  I want to curl into you Sir.  Yet, I have to wait as you remove the ropes.  I know you are being cautious, so I do not get burned, but I just want you to hold me.

Once free, my body just drops.  I do not even have the strength to even lift my head.

I jump slightly when I feel a warm cloth on my face.  You are cleaning me up.  

It saddens me to have my face cleaned but I appreciate you taking care of me, Sir.

Even with my eyes closed, I know you are talking to me.  I cannot hear you.  But that is normal.  

I hope my laughter has pleased you, Sir.

As soon as my senses dull, and I come back to you, I will be sure to thank you properly.

With three kisses to each boot and my forehead to the floor.