Erotica: The Marionette

I need you to leave me.

No, that’s not quite true.  I need you to leave me…broken.

I need you to strip me of my building doubt and fear and bring me back to reality.

It has been a long few months Sir.  I’ve waited patiently from the shelf I’ve been placed on.  A lifeless doll, stationed on the living room bookcase, just watching the world through wooden lids.

Can you see the varnish on my eyes; glossed over and shining with need?  Can you hear the creak of my hinges as I try to reach out to you?  Can you feel the cracks in my body when you hug me?  Can you taste the dust covering my soul when you kiss me?

Probably not.

I am a very good marionette.  I move when you need me to.  I move in and out of your vision when I feel it is necessary to ease your stress levels.

I make a lot of decisions.  My mind moves a mile a minute, but my mouth is stitched shut.  I tug and I tug but the threads are so tight. 

I should be panicking.

But, I’m not.

Because good girls wait for when they are needed.

Isn’t that right Sir?

I am a slow learner, but I know that patience is a cornerstone of self-control.  And self-control is your number one requirement.

So, I wanted to share a story with you.  I want you to close your eyes and dream of breaking me in the most deliciously depraved ways.

Here is what I see:

My eyes are closed.  They have been for ages now.  You put me in the back of your van, told me to keep them shut, and not say a word.  I do not know how long we have been driving.  For all I know, you have been driving in circles just to disorient me.  

Halfway through, you told me to strip.  I am not wearing much.  I never do when you tell me to get ready.  I am so used to being naked for you, clothing seems almost a sin.  There should never be anything that prevents you from seeing or touching any part of me at any time.

Its cold, even inside your van.  I am curled in a ball, my knees at my chest, with my back against the seat.  I am staying out of view.  It would be no fun if the police were to pull us over.

It is taking everything I have Sir not to open my eyes.  My stomach is rolling with motion sickness and my body is disoriented from all the movement.  Yet, I know that’s why you did not blindfold me.  You prefer that I obey through will power and without assistance.  That’s why I know that whatever happens, I am going to have to make sure I stay in the moment.

Thankfully, the van finally stops.  I have not moved.  I am waiting for your instruction.

Mistake number one.

I hear the door open and suddenly my ankle is pulled harshly.  My head drops to the floor and my back burns from the rug.

“Up and Present”

I scramble to follow your voice.  I am hesitant because I cannot see where you are and where I should be.  As I get up on my knees, you have decided I am not moving fast enough.  Your fingers wrap around the chainmaille of my day collar and yank me forward.  You are the only thing holding me up.

“Have you forgotten everything?  Is this what I am stuck with?”

Your words sting.  I keep my face stoic.  You have not given me leave to speak.  But, I right myself and get my balance back.  My hands lock behind my back.  My knees are biting into the grooves in the floor of the van.  The connector bars for the seats are not kind to my shins either.

You lightly smack my cheek.  “Head up.” You command.  Then, without warning, my collar drops from my neck.  My eyes are wide behind the lids.  Now, I am panicking a little bit.  You’ve never removed it without warning before.  Have I upset you Sir?  Are you abandoning me here?  Am I being released?  My chest is heavy and constricted.  What have I done?  Why won’t you talk to me?  Please Sir.  Please, tell me I can speak.  Please.

Thirty seconds.  

Thirty seconds and I have worked myself into a panic.

Thirty seconds and then I feel it.  I feel the smoothness of my leather collar.  I can hear the rings and feel the heaviness against my throat.  I take a deep breath.  I know what is coming next.

Your hands tighten it to its furthest point.  I can see white spots behind my eyelids.  My lips fall open in an ‘O’ and I gasp.  This is about control.  You will release when you are ready, not when I am.

And you do.  As the blood pounds through my head and my head is dizzy in need, you let go.  You buckle it comfortably.  

I’m naked, terrified, and in my TPE collar.

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked you to break me.

Your palm is resting on the top of my head.  I am trying to prepare myself for what I have gotten myself into.  

Ten Seconds.

Twenty seconds.

Thirty seconds.

The silence is long tonight.  It is never a good sign when you are quiet Sir.  It means you are losing yourself in the moment.  That means the dragon you keep leashed inside will be in charge tonight.  I may not survive this.

And so, it begins.

Your hand curls into my hair and I am yanked from the van and thrown to the ground below.  It is soft and cold.  In a split second, your hand is back in my hair and you are half dragging me.  I am trying to crawl fast enough, but I keep stumbling.  Left and right, back and forth, there is no rhyme or reason to where you are taking me.  I feel filthy.  My hands and knees are sinking into the Earth.

Please Sir, let me open my eyes.

I am thrown back to the ground with a disgusted sigh.  I can hear your frustration with me.  I don’t remember the last time I couldn’t keep up with you, step for step.  I’m frustrated with myself and we have only just begun.

I turned my face sideways to lessen the pain on contact.  I figured it out now.

You have me in the mud.  You have me naked, outdoors, in the fucking mud.  I did the first thing that came to mind.  I growled.

I forget how quick you can move Sir.  You had me flipped over and you knelt across my ass, your knee landing on my lower back.  Your hand wrapped in my hair and yanked my head back painfully.  You leaned close to my ear and spoke ever so softly.

“Did you have something to say piggie?”

I growled again.  

You pushed my face into the mud and then pulled me back.

“Good little piggies oink.”

Silence.  

I refuse to give you what you are asking.

Try Me. Push Me. Make Me.

As soon as you let go of my hair, I made a decision.  I bucked my ass up to jostle you and I took off.  Even with my eyes closed, I was determined to put distance between us.  I have no idea if you lost your balance or not.  As quick as I felt your boot to my side, kicking me over, I knew I had not bucked hard enough.

I landed on my back and before I could breathe, your boot was on my neck.  It pressed firmly and I felt myself sinking into the mud.  My hands pushed against your boot without relief.  I knew I had pissed you off.  

“Open your eyes.”  My eyes popped open instantly.  Even in the darkness, it was too bright.  I blinked rapidly and struggled to breathe.  

You are ready to watch me suffer.

You finally lift from my neck and I am gasping for breath.  Your boot meets my cheek and shoves half my face back into the ground and I hear you talking finally.

“Your hands will stay off my leather if you wish to keep them out of play.  Do I make myself clear?”

“yes.”

You push down harder.  “Yes, Sir.”

“Up.”

My breathing is laboured and I am seriously contemplating refusing you.  But, deep down, I cannot bring myself to do so.  

I need this.

I lift myself from the mud.  It is already drying on me.  I can feel it cracking.  I’m on my knees, staring up at you.

You tap my lips and I open obediently, tongue out.  You clip a clothespin to next to my piercing.  You smile so mockingly. “This will help wash you off.”  I glared.  Drool is not a way to wash myself.

“Tonight, we are going to work on your discipline, lil piggie.  Kneel up, off your heels.  Back straight, eyes forward, neck straight.  Lace your fingers behind your head and keep your arms up.  I do not want to hear a sound.”

You walked around me.  I don’t like losing sight of you Sir, especially in such a foreign environment.  I feel your boot nudge my ass.  I rocked ever so slightly, but no sound.

Then, it happened.  I felt a sharp sting.   It hurt.  I was unprepared for this Sir.

Then again.

And again.  There was no warm-up.  You are hitting me as though we have been doing impact for a half hour now.  My body is cold and sensitive.

It hurts.  My knees are shaking.  Holding myself in this position makes it hard to zone out the pain of the hits.

I bet that was your intention.

Six.  I think so anyway.

Seven.  A sob is caught in my throat.

Eight.  I am unsure what it even striking me at this point.  It hurts.  You keep changing the contact point.  

Nine.  The tears are leaking.  I am trying so hard to keep quiet.  I need to please you.

Ten.  That was a particularly vicious hit to my thighs.  I broke.

I fell forward.  My body is hunched over, my back bare.  My hands are in the mud and I am shaking, trying to keep the sobs in.

Silence.

I can hear you breathing.  Even now, it cuts through the sobs.  I am aware of you.

I bring myself back up into position.  Just as you expect.

Its not the falling that disappoints you.  It is the unwillingness to pick myself back up.

I look up at you.  You are blurry through the tears.

Without a word, you take your boot and place it on my chest.  You push.  My body starts bending backwards.  You are saying all you need to without a single word.  If I am going to bend, it will be at your will and your will alone.

I keep balance for as long as I can until I am once again on my back.  Your boot moves and the heel grinds into my nipple piercing.  It feels as though you will rip it from my body.  It hurts to intensely.

My body is twisting, trying to escape you.  Your weight holds me in place.  

Please Sir.  It hurts so bad.

You move to my other piercing.  It burns.  

Please Sir.

Please.

You’ve barely touched me and I feel as though I’ve run a marathon.

I just want your comfort now.

Please Sir.

You move to grind your boot against my sex.  My pelvic bone feels as though it is cracking beneath you.

I’m sobbing again.

But I know how to end this.

I must give myself over to your control again.

You are waiting for me to willingly do so.

I have known what I need to do for a while now.  But my head was set on rebellion.  

After a particularly strong grind, you remove your weight.  Sobbing, covered in mud, and aching fiercely, I curl into a ball.

Brokenly, I end it.

“OINK.”

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.