Kink Weekly

BDSM articles ideas bondage erotica resource

Home » Erotica

Erotica

Erotica: Call Me Sir

By Leave a Comment

sexy male Dominant with wooden paddle
via stock.adobe.com

***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. 

The doorbell rings. I look at the time on my phone. She’s one minute early. Points for promptness. Perhaps she has been paying attention after all. I open the door and gesture for her to enter. Fear flashes across her lovely face briefly before being replaced by resolve. She remains silent as instructed, and crosses the threshold. Good girl, I think to myself not yet ready to praise her aloud. There is still the inspection to attend to.

She waits on the edge of the carpet in my living room while I close the door behind her. I’ve made my expectations clear in advance and now it’s time to see if she has been obedient. I twirl my finger in the air, indicating that she should rotate for inspection. As she spins slowly, my eyes roam over her slender form and my mind replays the highlights of the past few weeks like my own personal erotic movie.

Dear Mistress, the first message had read, I would like to inquire as to whether you are currently seeking a new submissive. If so, I would like to put forth myself for consideration. It had been polite and to the point, and the truth is, I hadn’t been seriously looking. I’d toyed with the idea from time to time, but understanding fully the responsibility of such an undertaking and in consideration of the fullness of my plate, it had not been something I’d pursued. Still, the message had been intriguing. I’d decided a conversation could be had.

Tell me what submission means to you, I’d replied. The response had been heartfelt and well composed. The conversation had continued. I’d prefer that you refer to me as Sir if we move forward, I’d written.

I’d considered what it meant to have a submissive in service, to own another person. I’d fantasized from time to time about finding a true service sub, one who truly derived pleasure from doing day to day tasks that made my life easier or more enjoyable in some way. I’d imagined finding one who worked hard to earn rewards and accepted graciously punishments when I deemed they were deserved, but who generally considered my satisfaction to be reward enough. Of course, a preference for punishment as reward could always be accommodated. I reflected on the gift of submission from a person whose pleasure I controlled completely, mine to play with, mine to share if I chose. I’d been fairly certain I’d not want to share often, but given my lifestyle it would be nice to have the option.

The fantasy part is always the easy part. I’d also spent time considering what it meant to take responsibility for the emotional and physical safety of another human being during power exchange. The importance of self-esteem building, trust, and fostering of personal growth. I’d taken her on a very vanilla date, to see if we had as much chemistry in person as on the phone. It had been there. We’d talked about my sadistic streak, my fascination with dollification and mind control, my primal tendencies, and my love of sensual BDSM. We’d discussed her curiosity about pain and her firmly rooted need to give control away.

My Daddy had encouraged me. “I think this is something you may need to explore,” he’d prodded gently. When she’d talked about her preference for order down to matching the socks when she did laundry and her understanding of the need for my morning coffee to be perfect, I’d offered her a contract. A three-month training period with an option to extend if things were going well had felt appropriate. She’d accepted my terms, and now, now she is here.

She completes her first rotation, remaining silent as I prefer. I catch the hem of her short dress in my hand, lifting it briefly to expose what lies underneath. I find only bare skin, as I have instructed. Finding everything in place, she receives her first “Good girl,” of the evening. I enjoy her radiant smile in response. I can’t want to see her face when she comes. I can’t wait to see her tears.

I’ve reviewed her limits list extensively, but before we begin, I ask her for her safe words one more time. She hasn’t forgotten. She is ready to begin. I lead her from the living room across the kitchen, beyond which lies a set of closed French doors. Lifting a black silk blindfold from the counter, I take her sight. “Once we enter that room, I will only stop if I hear your safe words. Are you ready?” I ask. She nods. “Address me properly,” I remind her.

“Yes Sir,” she says aloud this time. I open the doors and lead her forward. I guide her until her toes touch the edge of a large pillow on the floor. If she’s paid attention, she will know what to do next without direction. I smile when she lifts the dress up over her head and falls to her knees. I walk around her slowly. That’s two “Good girls,” earned so far tonight.

“Thank you, Mistress,” she says aloud. I wince. I really hate that. I pause and say nothing, allowing her to catch her own mistake. “Thank you, Sir,” she corrects herself. I sigh and tell her to assume a position on all fours. She complies.

“Just three this time,” I tell her. She is just learning after all. “I want you to count and when we are done to thank me properly this time.” My crop lands three times and I enjoy her tiny cries as she counts out loud. I feel slick begin to pool between my thighs at the sight of the pink blooming on her round yet toned bum. “Thank you, Sir!” she says correctly this time. I look forward to marking her soft skin with a cane.

“Stand now,” I command. I kiss her lips softly. “I’m so glad we’ve put that little incident behind us,” I soothe. She nods, lip quivering and dissolving my patience in desire. Of course, I’ll still stick to the plan. I have mastered control. I help her ease onto the excellent little bench I’ve ordered recently. Each knee and forearm rest on an individual pad, allowing me to bind her limbs in an all-fours position, elevated off the ground. I bind also her waist, securing her to the longest pad that runs from ribs to pelvis. Her beautiful face, still blindfolded, comes to rest in a round pillow, originally designed for massage tables.

I run my hand along her nude form, enjoying the way the tiny hairs on her body stand on end. I take my time allowing some anticipation to build as I examine the toys laid out in advance. I press play on the sound system, allowing the volume of the music to drown out the sound of my steps, stealing her awareness of my location in space. I whisper in her ear. “You are not allowed to come until I say so.”

I take this opportunity to fully appreciate her drenched pussy on display, smooth and free of any hair as I prefer. I look forward to her making another mistake so that I can spank it. Gently I run my fingers over her flesh and slip them into my mouth to taste her. I repeat this motion. this time pressing my fingers between her lips so that she can taste herself. I press one finger, then two, slowly inside of her tight core, enjoying the feeling of her muscles gripping my fingers. I slip into a rhythm, wrapping my other arm around her waist and allowing my fingers to dance against her clit while the first set fuck her in time to the music.

I smile brightly when her body convulses involuntarily in its bonds. “Did you just come without permission?” I demand. I know the answer already but I appreciate her honestly as she nods. I sigh loudly for her benefit. “Address me properly,” I demand.

“I’m sorry Sir!” she whimpers and then cries out for me as my hand slaps against her bare pussy. “Count,” I instruct. “It will be three for the orgasm and one for the failure to address me properly.” I enjoy the quiver in her voice as she counts the first spank. The next two land on her ass, one on each cheek. I remind myself she is still learning after all. I pause, knowing she is tense and wondering where the last will land. I strike between her legs again and something magical happens. I see her body coil on the edge of coming a second time, but she fights for control of her body and wins. “Good girl!” I praise. “Put your mouth to good use and if you please me. I’ll allow you to come again tonight.

“Yes Sir,” she agrees more confidently this time. I can see she’s getting the hang of it. This is for the best because as much as I love punishment, I don’t tolerate slow learners well. I appreciate her intelligence. I unzip my pants and allow them to fall to my ankles, baring my own most sensitive flesh. I straddle the donut pillow and lift her chin with my fingers. Her lips and tongue begin to move. It’s clear she’s eager to please, eager to prove herself. I hold her face firmly in place, allowing my hips to grind gently against her mouth, edging myself nearly to madness before I allow myself my first release.

“Good girl,” I praise, rounding behind her again with silver plug and lubricant in hand. “All of these holes are mine,” I remind her, slipping on a nitrile glove and pressing a finger against her tighter opening. She squirms in her bonds and I enjoy watching the struggle. I pause. She is learning after all. “I will only stop for your safe words,” I remind her. I watch her set her jaw in resolve. No words escape her lips. I nod, though she can’t see me. She is making a strong effort.

I press my finger firmly inside of her ass, waiting for her to relax before sliding it in and out several times. When I withdraw it completely, it is to allow the smallest plug in the set to take its place. She whimpers softly as I push the plug inside and feel it slide into place with a satisfying POP. “Good girl,” I encourage her, massaging her ass cheeks as she accommodates the plug. Removing the glove, I press my fingers back inside of her core. Her wetness betrays her. She is enjoying this small pain. I smile. I’m enjoying it too.

I reach for my newest toy, excited to finally give it a test run. I slide one end of the dildo inside of myself. The shorter curved end has a vibrating contour that presses directly against my clit. I press the other end inside of her, enjoying the gasp she makes at feeling so full. I release one hand from its bonds. “Play with yourself,” I command, “but wait until I give you permission or the punishment will be more severe for a second offense.”

I slide my shirt up over my head. My hands are free to grasp her shoulders as I press my breasts against her back and slam my hips forward. Each time I penetrate her with the toy, it thrusts back inside of me increasing my own pleasure. I turn on the vibration and feel her tense beneath me. She digs the fingernails of the bound hand into the pad of the bench, but her free hand continues to stoke her clit. I begin to fuck her harder now, fucking myself at the same time. I grind my hips, forcing the toy deeper. I feel my own core clamp down on the toy, hovering on the edge of release. I feel her body tense beneath me, fighting the urge to let go. A single tear escapes the blindfold sending me completely over the edge. “Come now I demand,” as we detonate together.

Withdrawing my new cock, I kiss between her shoulder blades. I carefully massage her remaining wrist and ankles as I release each one. I leave the blindfold in place however until we reenter the kitchen and I close the French doors behind me. I’ll leave the mystery of that room intact.

Restoring her vision, I tangle a fist in her hair and kiss her firmly. “You did well this first time,” I whisper, enjoying the shy pride that crosses her face. I lead her to the bathroom and start the shower. “We’ll sleep in the guest room tonight,” I advise her. My other partner is surely already asleep in the bedroom we share. I smile. I adore his submission in our day-to-day life, but he doesn’t share my desire for kink in the bedroom. My Daddy isn’t here this weekend, but I’m sure he’ll want to hear all about our escapades tomorrow.

I slide into bed beside her, snuggled under the fluffy blankets. My fingers trace her body more gently now in deference to the soreness I’m sure she feels. I know I’ll need to have her again before I sleep. Mine, I think to myself as my fingers begin to play and I swallow her soft cries in kisses. Tonight, I’m taking ownership of her body. I smile in the darkness. I can’t wait to introduce her to hypnosis and take control of her mind.

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. Her new website SLM Naughty Book Nook is live! https://sunnyleighmayne.com/ Sign up for e-mails to stay up to date on her newest book releases and receive surprise erotic short stories!

Erotica: Brand Spanking New

By 2 Comments

bdsm leather submissive collar
via stock.adobe.com

***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. 

As the Uber pulls up in a seemingly abandoned industrial lot my stomach does flip flops. “Are you sure this is the right place Daddy?” I whisper. He opens the door and jumps out of the SUV. 

“Let Daddy take a look around and make sure Babygirl,” he says, “stay in the car for a moment.” As the door slams closed and I watch him head towards what looks like an abandoned warehouse the driver catches my attention. He looks extremely uncomfortable.

“Where did you say you were going again?” he asks, “some kind of party?” I decide at this point I may as well just level with him. He’s been a good sport after all, driving through this run-down part of town. I gesture towards the gates.

“We’re looking for a club,” I say, showing him the venue’s website on my phone. 

“I’ve never heard of it,” he says sounding skeptical, “what kind of club is it?” It’s now or never I think to myself and I don’t want to risk being left in this neighborhood at night if there has been a mistake. 

“It’s a BDSM club,” I say, “you know, for play.” 

“What do you mean play?”, he asks, “like spanking and sex and stuff?” I sigh. This isn’t going well. I nod to indicate that it is indeed that kind of stuff. Now the driver looks completely alarmed. “Honey, are you sure you want to go into a place like that, and with your father of all people?” he asks. 

Now it’s my turn to look shocked. “He’s not my father” I exclaim, “he’s my…boyfriend!” The driver bursts into laughter. 

“I’m just shitting you,” he says, “but seriously hun are you sure you want to go into that place?” I don’t have time to answer before Daddy returns to the car and opens the door.

“Come on baby,” he says holding out his hand, “this is it.” I’m tempted to tell the driver to take me right back to the hotel but it is far too late for cold feet. Clubs like this aren’t legal in our state and we’ve had to drive a long way to get here. I know Daddy will not allow me to chicken out. I grab the bag with my special boots and a bottle of wine in it. It’s freezing outside and Daddy has told me to put on my jeans and regular boots under my dress and parka. I’ll be able to easily take them off and change my shoes inside. I take a deep breath, look at my Daddy from under glitter covered lashes, and take his hand.

I relax a bit when I see the sign for valet parking and the friendly bouncers at the door usher us inside. Daddy has RSVP’d and we’re expected. It only takes a few minutes for him to sort out our membership and I use the time to wriggle out of my jeans leaving myself in a tiny white bodycon dress, if you can even call it a dress based on the lack of fabric. I slip on my brand-new Pleasers, shiny blue and purple 10 inch platform boots that remind me of a galaxy, and check that the sparkly belt is secured around my hips. It’s made of lots of pounded metal rings that catch the light and jingle when I dance or walk with a little wiggle in my hips. Daddy has joined me by now and is stuffing things in our locker. He holds out his hands for my coat. The air in the entrance is cold on my skin through the cutouts in the dress and I know my nipples will be visible through the thin white stretch fabric and my unlined lace bra. We’ve come this far however and I put on my brave face and give Daddy my coat.

“There you go,” he coaxes, “beautiful.” As we enter the club proper my Daddy keeps his arm wrapped snuggly around my waist. The bartender opens our bottle of wine, pouring two glasses worth into plastic cups. Normally I will savor wine, but in this instance, my body is on high alert and I barely even register the variety. One glass is all that either of us will have while we are here. I snuggle into him and watch people curiously. I feel safe in his arms and that gives me the freedom to explore.

After a brief walking tour we settle in the leather covered seating area near the edge of the dance floor. I sip my wine and think about the scenes we’ve just taken in. We’d paused on our circuit to watch a flogger tutorial with the recipient of the flogging casually leaning against a spanking bench looking bored as her bum jiggled nicely after every swat landing in a figure eight rhythm. I recall pausing in a viewing room and witnessing the tail end of what appeared to be a very satisfying threesome and also watching a lady wantonly spread eagled on a type of bench I’ve never seen before while a handsome man licked her pussy. Another man, presumably her partner, had been nearby and appeared to be taking mental notes before stepping in to finish the job himself.

Daddy kisses me and strokes my body and I wonder how many eyes are on us. My body never fails to respond to his touch and tonight is no different as I feel the slick pooling between my thighs. The music isn’t really great but I do love to dance and a pole in the center of the dance floor catches my eye. I feel brave enough at this point to make a song request and as Marcy Playgrounds’s Sex and Candy comes on over the speaker I begin to dance with abandon. My dress rides up as I swing my hips to the music and for once I don’t care that everyone can see my pale lavender lace panties. I know I’m surrounded by a crowd but I keep my eyes on Daddy and he grounds me.

When the song is finished, he joins me on the dance floor. My Daddy kisses me and as I turn to grind my hips against him he wraps one hand softly around my throat and uses the other to gently stroke my pussy. At the hotel Daddy took me several times before calling for a ride because I didn’t think I’d feel ready to be taken in front of such a crowd. He always keeps his promises and so his hands stroke me on top of the panties even though I now desperately want him inside of me again.

When the tension builds to the point where neither of us can stand it, we both know we need some form of release. He takes me by the hand and leads me back towards the smallest dungeon in the back of the club. “If I can’t take you now I need to spank you,” he says, and bends me over a spanking bench, “then I need to take you back to the hotel to fuck you again.” He folds me the short way over the bench so that my body is folded nearly in half and my hair hangs over my eyes. As he lifts my dress exposing my bum and begins to rub my cheeks in preparation I grip the legs of the bench. There is some padding but even in my sky high platforms I’m so petite that my toes barely brush the ground and I feel the pain of the bench digging into my hip bones from which I am suspended. I can hear the moans coming from the couple fucking in the corner of the room but otherwise we are alone.

The situation is unusual. I almost never willingly accept punishment and if I am really naughty Daddy has to catch and pin me so that I can’t wriggle free before the spanking begins. In the moment however things feel right and I don’t really have time to figure out why because I feel the burn of the first spank landing on my nearly bare bottom. I know this time will be intense because Daddy always starts with softer spanks and this one is quite hard. I can’t help but let out little cries as he strikes me over and over, pausing to caress my abused cheeks before doling out an even harder set of blows. As the intensity builds I squirm as little as I am able without being able to use my feet for support. I keep my pride intact and do not ask him to stop or cover my bum with my hands. He keeps me in suspense landing several blows on one side and then the other before changing his rhythm and alternating single cracks against each cheek. I begin to lose time.

As the intensity mounts and the pain increases, I become aware that the room is now silent. I think the other couple must have left and I feel as if I am alone in a private bubble with my Daddy. All I can hear are my own breathless cries and the sound of his flesh slapping against mine. Finally, the pain ceases. I still don’t hear a sound as he takes me by the waist and lifts me to my feet. My eyes are closed and I collapse backwards against him. “Thank you Daddy,” I whisper on impulse, sure that to passersby it would seem that I am thanking him for punishment as ritual may dictate for some. Really, I think I’m thanking him for the tenderness he is showing me in this moment as he supports me in his arms, kissing me deeply, and bringing me back to reality. As awareness slowly returns to me, I realize that the silent room is not empty at all. In fact, quite a crowd has gathered. I feel no shame however knowing that my Daddy is proud of me.

Daddy whisks me away to the bar and gives me time to drink a whole glass of water. When I am finished, he tells me that it is time to leave. He arranges a ride and helps me put on my jeans and normal shoes. He buttons up my parka so that I won’t be cold. I feel so sleepy as I snuggle against him in the back of seat of the car which luckily didn’t have much trouble finding us this time. When we enter the hotel room we wash the club grit off of our hands but he tells me to leave my dress on and peels off my boots and jeans. He presses me firmly into the bed, our toys already spread out on the comforter.

My bum hurts but he holds me firmly in place as he drips lube onto me and presses a small glass dildo resembling beads into my ass. I tell him so but he continues gently and unyieldingly to fill me, each bead increasing in size. Daddy encourages me to rub my clit as the toy sinks deeper and he reminds me that it hurts but that there is pleasure to be found alongside the pain. “Good girl,” he soothes as the last bead is pressed inside, “you’ve taken it all and you have made Daddy very happy tonight.” He holds the anchor bead in place and drags me to the side of the bed where I kneel with splayed knees and my chest on the mattress. 

“This ass is mine,” he says as he stands behind me and twists the glass inside of me. I feel my drenched pussy clenching already as he begins to fill it with his cock. “This pussy is mine too,” he growls, as he fully seats himself inside of my core. As his pace increases and he penetrates me roughly he plunges the glass in and out so that I am doubly full and doubly fucked. I continue to stroke myself gently, and when I sink deeply enough into the sensation that pleasure finally becomes tangled with the pressure and pain, I explode in ecstasy. It seems like I am coming forever and I cry out for my Daddy. I lie shaking on the bed as Daddy finally allows himself to lose control and comes inside of me. With his fist tangled in my hair and his mouth pressed against my ear, I hear him say the only thing I need to hear. “You are mine.”


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. Her new website SLM Naughty Book Nook is live! https://sunnyleighmayne.com/ Sign up for e-mails to stay up to date on her newest book releases and receive surprise erotic short stories!

Erotica: Barbie Girl

By 2 Comments

bdsm leather submissive collar
via stock.adobe.com

***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 hum the song again softly to myself. It’s stuck in my head. The words play again in my mind. Life is plastic. It’s fantastic. I giggle out loud. Not plastic….wax.  I begin to drift again. My head spins. I’m dehydrated. I reach for my bottle of diet coke and lift it to my lips. I freeze in place. The bottle in my hand is very real but all I can see is a version that resembles a tiny toy soda in a doll house, the liquid is really only a swipe of paint in acrylic. No liquid touches my lips. 

“Need a little help baby?” my Daddy asks, returning from the bathroom and taking in my frozen state. I can’t move, legs extended in a rigid pose with one hand still holding the Coke. I manage to move my lips. I find sound.

“Daddy? Am I a little girl or little doll?” I whisper, my voice magnified by the open bottle still close to my lips. He climbs up onto the bed and bumps the end of the bottle up a little bit higher, allowing the soda to flow into my mouth. I swallow and sigh in relief. I am so thirsty. I giggle again as the music in my mind plays anew. This time I hum the tune out loud. Dress me up, make it tight, I’m your dolly. 

“You’re a little girl sweetheart,” he soothes me, and I relax my body finding I can move after all. Yay fractionation. I am hypno fucked-up. “You need to drink more fluids baby,” Daddy encourages. Diet coke is not ideal but it’s what’s available in the hotel room on demand. “I wonder if the soda can make you come?” he teases, knowing my whole body is sensitized and wanting to encourage me to drink. 

I lift the bottle to my lips, this time with two hands, only to find myself stuck again. Fucking fake plastic soda. “You’re my little girl sweetheart,” Daddy gently reminds me and bumps the bottle again. This time, as the bubbles flow down my throat orgasm tears through my body. 

How did I get here? Oh yeah….Daddy turned my key. I’d eaten some chocolate, melted and then re-solidified into one large confectionary chunk. We’d checked in to this hotel and agreed to a little dolly time. The hypnosis had done the rest. I lie back against the mattress and as I float, I relive the evening all over again.

My entire body tingles, every vibration, every touch and sound, bringing me close to orgasm. Daddy locks my private collar around my neck. “What does this collar mean?” he asks me, beginning our ritual. 

“I belong to Daddy,” I respond instinctually. This is the correct and only answer, and I’m rewarded with a “good girl.” As he pins me to the mattress with his large hand around my throat, Daddy reminds that my collar is not the only lock that matters. He is in possession of a very different sort of key. It clicks into place and my body becomes rigid. 

Daddy spreads my legs and bends them on the bed. The don’t budge and inch as he laps between my thighs with a skill that makes me scream out my pleasure, but only in my mind. My lips remain silent. I am a motionless compliant doll, a fucktoy at his disposal. 

Daddy climbs on top of me, bending one leg and then the other like a pretzel, with my blue painted toes pressed against his chest just under his chin. He lifts each arm in turn around his neck and they lock in place, arms straight and bent at the wrists. They remain fixed behind his head as he crushes my body under his weight, folding me in half, and slamming his cock inside of me. 

My body can’t move of its own accord but it produces slick and I am wet and ready for Daddy. I don’t have to ask permission to come because I am unable to speak, and the tiny convulsions that make my muscles quiver and the spasms of my kitty around his shaft are the only indication of the ecstasy he brings me.  

Daddy withdraws from my core and extends my limbs before rolling me on my belly. He lifts and turns me effortlessly, and I feel him mount me with my thighs pressed nearly together and one of his legs outside of each of mine. The position is impossibly tight but he presses against me with expert precision and pounds into me with the ferocity of a wild bear. He growls as he slams my petite form into the mattress, bringing me to release again and again, before finally spilling his seed in my belly. 

I lay still on the mattress, trembling internally when I hear him whisper in my ear. “Are you ready for the wax?” Yes I’m not sure if I answer in my mind or out loud. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need my permission. As the first drops of wax strike my skin, feeling like burning rain, each new pour causing orgasm to detonate inside of my silent form, I feel that my humanity is melting away. I have no fears or concerns, only sensation. I am simply a doll, an object of pleasure, my Daddy’s most cherished possession. My thoughts drift completely away. 

“You’re my little girl,” Daddy soothes, gently bringing me back to the present reality. He tosses me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing and carries me into the bathroom where he gently washes away the wax and the traces of our love. I enjoy his ministrations as he runs his soapy hands over my body, gently towels me off, and tucks me into bed. A powerade is discovered packed in the overnight bag, and hydration is achieved. I won’t need any melatonin to sleep tonight snuggled against my Daddy’s chest. His scent envelopes me as he holds me close and helps me sink into a deep and natural sleep. “You’re such a good girl,” he whispers, to the last traces of my consciousness as I drift off in a sea of bliss and darkness takes me.  

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.

Erotica: Bad Kitty

By 2 Comments

sexy Asian slave bound
via stock.adobe.com

***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

By 3 Comments

Shibari male submissive bound
via stock.adobe.com

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

By 2 Comments

hot submissive wanting to please her dominant
via stock.adobe.com

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

By 2 Comments

sexy Domme playing with fire
via stock.adobe.com

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

By 6 Comments

sexy male Dom with leather whip
via stock.adobe.com

*** 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

By 2 Comments

hot submissive wanting to please her dominant
via stock.adobe.com

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

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

By 2 Comments

dominant man puts handcuffs on woman in sexy red dress.jpeg
via stock.adobe.com

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.