Model: Domina Mara
Taken by: Domina Mara
You were the last thing I expected to see. Even kneeled with my eyes on the floor, I could feel your presence. I could see your red boots, a shiny leather looking heel that clearly traveled the mile of your legs.
I cheat slightly and glance up further through my lashes. I know it is improper, but I also know that there is a minimal chance you will catch my misconduct, as far across the room as you are. I watch you mingle throughout the crowds, smiling softly. Your eyes are piercing, blazing with a fierce heat, even being as blue as ice.
The dark lace covers most of your face, but I can see the slight flush the heat of the room has bought to your cheeks. Your bodice is tight, the ivory inside showing firm curves that leave me wanting to get a closer look at. Your skirt is short, showing several inches between the top of your boots and the seam of your skirt. It is both classy and teasing.
Your eyes meet mine and I drop them quickly. I was too confident you would not see me. I’ve been relegated to the corner of the room, the shadows hiding the sheer gauze crisscrossing my body.
I am unaware if you know I am up for sale…again. This is the third time in two years. I have no hope that you would show interest in me.
But, as I hear the click of your heels across the floor, I wonder if you will take me to task before the auction. I hold my breath as I feel the telltale firmness of a crop underneath my chin as you apply pressure and bring my head up to meet your eyes once more.
“What is your name, lil one?”
I shake my head at you.
“I will not ask again.”
Once more I shake my head. I cannot speak but with my hands bound to my knees I cannot even begin to tell you such. I close my eyes as I hear the gruff voice of my former Master.
“She is a lame one. Can’t speak for the life of her…always wavin’ her hands. I taught her in the end. Tis better to just keep her hands bound and not have to deal with it. A good slave is better seen, not heard.”
He laughed cruelly.
“We shall see.” You said no more as you let my face drop. I am used to such cruelties. Nobody wants a lame slave. Everyone here wants a beauty, not a beast.
I’m the last of the slaves to be presented. The other girls are painted gold with glitter, the sheer gypsy outfits are sequined to draw your eyes to their curves. Their eyes are smokey with kohl, making the colors of their irises sparkle in the lights. They sold for thousands.
Then there is me. I’m barely wrapped in a sheer curtain, my body pale and cold. I’m sure to keep my head down. I can hear the snickers of those on the floor before the stage. You would think having been here before, I’d be used to it.
I know I’m not much to look at, and I know I will be here again. I doubt anyone will buy me tonight. We all know what happens to unwanted slaves. They fill the whore houses for those who can’t afford their own.
I’ve never wanted to go their again.
“Three thousand.” I close my eyes in disbelief. Your voice is steely as it cuts through the jeers.
“That is well above the starting bid.” The Master auctioneer is nearly stuttering in surprise. I’ve never fetched that much.
“Do you accept my bid or not?” I can only imagine your eyebrow is raised behind your mask.
I am grabbed by my collar and yanked to my feet. I’m shoved forward and nearly fall off the stage. Your hand on my chest steadies me and you help me down gently. I can hear you giving the money to the auctioneer and quite harshly let him know his manners need improving.
It’s all I can do not to smile as you turn your back on him. You snap your fingers and I follow, two steps behind and slightly to the left.
I’m as ready to be rid of this hell as I am to find out who my new Mistress is.
Your heels echo through the house as we take our leave. I barely hesitate when we reach the front door and I am faced with a gravel driveway. It is a large circular space full of luxury cars. Even without turning back to look at the house, I know it screams of wealth and privilege. After all, who else could house so many slaves?
I’m used to being barefoot. It’s been several years since I’ve been allowed shoes. After the second time I tried to run, they were taken away permanently. I feel the sharp rocks digging into my flesh, but I am just trying to stay caught up with you. I fear if I lag too much you will change your mind and leave me here.
We reach your car, a black so shiny I can almost see myself. You open the door and gesture for me to get in. I sidle in quickly and you shut the door behind me. I can hear you tell the driver to head out and you pull my head into your lap. I can feel your nails running through my hair. Sooner than I would like, I feel my eyes drifting closed. It’s almost as if you’ve drugged me.
Of course, maybe I’m just not used to the kindness of strangers.
I tense slightly as I wake. I’m not sure how long I have been asleep, but you do not overly seem to mind. Your hand is resting on my shoulder but as you feel me shift, you caress my arm and ask me gently to sit up. Apparently, we are almost to your home.
I know better to think of it as my home. I am a slave. I own nothing. I have nothing. I am nothing. Those were lessons I learned quickly.
It is probably another twenty minutes of silence before we turn down a long dirt road. It winds back and forth, enough to almost make me nauseous. I’ve always wondered what is so appealing about living outside civilization. What is so appealing about having no neighbors and only the company of trees for miles? Then again, it may be because I look it as an additional obstacle course and you probably look at it as more freedom to torture.
You have seemed so gentle so far. It will change…it always does. But I’m going to relish it for as long as I can.
It is a beautiful night. The stars are bright against the darkness. That little bit of light I want to carry with me for when the dark gets to be too much.
The grass is cool and wet beneath my feet. The chill is a welcome change of the auction house. Where there it was stifling and oppressive, here I can almost feel myself floating with the breeze.
I follow you, stretching my legs as you’ve yet to revoke my walking privileges. Your house is vast. The double oak doors open wide, almost swallowing us as they swing shut only a breath or two behind us. The floor is marble. As is the staircase, narrow at the base and widened at the top. The banisters are wrought iron. I already dread the amount of cleaning and polishing just the front foray is going to need. I’m also dreading the pain I am going to suffer when you require, I crawl for you as all the others have.
I wonder how long your patience will hold.
Up the stairs we go, your heels loud on the marble. You are still in your travelling cloak and I am surprised no servants have greeted you at the door. Do you really live here all alone?
At the top of stairs is a winding set of hallways. I’m sure I will get lost the first few times I wander, if I’m allowed to leave my space.
We pass a dozen rooms with different colored doors, all closed and presumably locked. I’m curious if the color-coding is for a reason or you merely had a colorblind decorator.
Finally, we reach these cherrywood French doors. They are ornate and well cared for. I can only assume this is the Master bedroom. You enter, and I stop at the doorway. I have not been given leave to enter and I’m not foolish enough to repeat that mistake again.
You sit on the edge of the bed and your eyes turn to me. I do all I can to not squirm under your gaze. You are very hard to read Ma’am.
You’ve not told me otherwise, but I kneel in your doorway. I slowly go to my hands and knees and make my way to you. This is your space and whether you allow me in here often or not, I will do my best to follow the etiquette I know and adjust from there.
I reach you quickly and drop my body, my forehead on the floor only an inch or so from your boots. My right hand is gripping my left wrist behind my back.
“Rise.” You’ve spoken so softly that for a second, I am unsure if I heard you. You nudge my head with your foot and I hasten to obey.
I stand, my legs are shoulder width apart. My hands are laced behind my head with my arms out. My eyes are down, and my breathing is methodic. I don’t want you to know I am nervous.
Your nails trail down my cheek and across my chest. Slowly, up and over my shoulders and down my back. You are circling me like a predator. I can feel you slowing at times. I know you are tracing my scars. I have so many. I wonder what you think of them.
You come back to my front and lift my chin up.
“We are going to establish your rules tomorrow. Tonight, I am giving you leave to use the restroom and wash up. You have twenty minutes. Then you will kneel next to the right side of my bed and wait for me. Is that clear?”
I nodded, trying my best to show I was paying attention.
“Then get to it.”
I don’t remember the last time I was given hot water to use. I know better than to waste it. I discard the flimsy gauze I have on, folding it neatly and placing it next to the tub. I am unsure what is going to be done with it as of yet.
I relieve myself and turn the shower on as hot as I can stand it before climbing in. I can see my skin reddening under the pressure, but I don’t particularly feel it.
I wash down using the small bottle left for me. I feel cleaner already. I scrub and scrub until the water runs clear.
I turn off the water and step out, feeling the plush rug beneath my feet. I shiver a little bit from the cool air and reach for a towel on the counter. I don’t remember it being there before. I must have been lost in thought to not have heard anyone.
I hang the towel and head back into the bedroom. I assume the position you required.
Do you know how long three minutes can feel like? Three complete minutes of You simply staring at me.
I was late. I was occupied for exactly twenty-three minutes before my knees hit the floor. At least, that’s what you have told me.
I’ve never learned to tell time. I also cannot read nor write beyond my name. Everything I know, I’ve picked up from listening and repeating.
I have no way to tell you why I am lame. I have no way to express that no one has seen fit to teach me. After all, I’ve only ever been good for one thing: sex.
I’m simply a hole to be used when needed.
That’s why my first Master did not care what happened to me. That’s why when I spoke out one too many times, he crushed my windpipe by sheer force. I still remember the black edges around my vision, the struggle to get free. I clawed at him to free me. I kicked and fought with all I had.
I don’t remember what happened after. I woke several days later bandaged up, unable to talk, and locked in my cage.
I’ve been silent ever since.
I’m kneeling here in resignation. Youve told me I am late. I’m just as stupid as the men at the auction house said. One order and I cannot behave. I wonder what comes next.
I’ve started counting in my head. If I keep counting, then I can zone out the punishment. I can count very high Ma’am. I learned that through punishment.
“I want to make something very clear.” Your voice is just as quiet and confident as it was at the auction. “When I give you an order, you will do your best to follow it to the letter. You failed to do that tonight.”
I can hear you ticking your tongue. I’m curious what that tick means. Everyone has one. Some warn me of danger. Some are almost amusing.
You stand and step over my prone form. I can hear a drawer open and some items are shifting. Metal is dragging against the wood. I’m sure you are doing that on purpose.
My breathing accelerates slightly. Metal means pain and a long healing time.
Each type of medium has a different meaning to me. Metal is not the most dreaded.
Leather means you are planning a long torture session. Skin can hold up well to its pliability.
Wood means you are planning a short, concise lesson. One that most likely will see my hands broken again.
Anything else means I will probably scar because you will be experimenting with what your toy can take. I don’t need to know you to understand the cycle of cruelty I was born to.
I can hear you to my left. You are near the end of the bed. You snap twice.
“When I snap twice you will come to me. If I snap once you will present yourself as you did at my bed. When you understand my instructions, you will tap your thigh. Once for clarification, twice for yes Ma’am. Do you understand me?”
I tapped my thigh twice
You snapped twice more, and I crawled to you and stopped at your feet. You bent down and wrapped a metal chain around my neck. You were able to fit two fingers between my neck and the leash. You clipped it so it would not tighten. Then you hooked it into a ring at the foot of the bed, tugging me up at the same time.
“Tonight, you sleep at the foot of my bed. You will be available to me anytime day or night. Now curl up and sleep. You will need to be rested for tomorrow.”
I tried to make myself as small as possible at the foot of your bed. I even tried to sleep. But, I couldn’t. I simply stared into the darkness as I listened to your evened breathing.
I’m thinking of how quiet the house is. I half expected a harem or at least a few house slaves around. Yet, you seem to be here by yourself, surrounded only by marble and glass. Such a sad existence.
I’m unsure of what you want from me. Youve made very few demands and have yet to touch me for anything other than comfort. I’m nervous for tomorrow. Youve told me you have plans. Those are dangerous words.
I breath slowly through my panic. It cannot be worse than I have endured previously. I close my eyes. I’m determined to do as you ordered and get some shut eye. Maybe tomorrow won’t be so bad. Then again, does it matter either way? I’m still at your mercy.
I slept relatively comfortably where you left me. Once I did finally drift off, I am pretty sure I stayed curled in the same small ball. I don’t know if it because I am used to the small space of a cage or because I was afraid that if I nudged you, even accidentally, you would push me to the floor.
I’m shamelessly taking advantage of your generosity. I hope you don’t notice. Then again, you are quite intelligent.
I laid there quietly, trying to keep my breathing even so as not to arouse you. I’m surprised you trust me this close to you when you are sleeping. Then again, as I run my fingers across the chain link of the leash, I realize it is too short for me to properly reach you. The sound of me struggling would wake you.
I wonder what it is to see you mad. Is that terrible Ma’am? To wonder what you look like flushed with anger? I’m sure you’d be curious why that’s the first thing I would like to see.
One, I think you would be quite the sight, so beautiful in such a deep red. But mostly, I would like to know what type of angry you are. If I know, I can prepare myself for what is to come when you tire of me. For when you realize I am as stupid as the others have warned.
After all, it may have been foolish for you to not recognize their warnings.
I am a beast Ma’am. And all beasts have claws.
I laid there for a long while Ma’am, simply listening to you breathing. When you started to stir, I swiftly knelt up and waited for your instructions. The chain was too short for me to kneel on the floor, so the bed was my next option.
You slid from under your duvet without so much as a glance. I could hear the water and see the barest hint of steam from beneath your bathroom door.
I was sure I could hear you humming, and I desperately wanted to get closer to hear you better, but I did not even try.
I simply waited.
You came out minutes later, though I’m not honestly sure of how long I’ve been kneeling. I know my knees are a touch numb, but that’s nothing new.
My eyes were tracing the paisley pattern on your covers when I felt your fingers in my hair.
“Such a good girl. So quiet and properly waiting.”. You seemed genuinely proud. That is an unfamiliar feeling for me. “I think today I shall take you outside, lil one. Let you stretch out so prettily in the sun for me to admire.”. You gently tug me back by my hair. “How does that sound?”.
I smiled brightly up at you and you smiled back, just in time as you heard two taps.
You instructed me to sit crisscross on my hands. I felt very much like a child who was being chastised for touching things. But, dutifully, I sat as instructed.
You warned me you were going to remove the chain from my collar. It would still leave the heavy metal on my delicate neck but would leave me untethered from the bed. I waited, almost mocking you in my head, to warn me not to move. However, you remained silent as you worked the key into its lock. I felt the chain drop into my lap, cold against my bare thighs. I held my breath as you slowly pulled it across my skin.
I am determined not to let you know how much of a turn on cold chain can be when used by skilled hands.
You step away from me for a moment and come back with clamps. It is a three chain. Two are for my nipples and one is for my clit. I am very familiar with this decoration. Of course, they are usually weighted down and pull painfully. My previous Master enjoyed having me clipped and weighted while I crawled behind Him. He took great pleasure in hitting those spots with the crop.
I will never confess this to you Ma’am without a direct question. I do enjoy a fair share of pain. Maybe it’s because it is what I am used to. Maybe it is because I do try my best to please my Master and continually try to push myself. Maybe it is simply mind-bending to feel the creativity of your Master.
I’m not entirely sure Ma’am.
But my confession stays the same. I enjoy pain of many kinds.
I just don’t enjoy anger-laced pain.
You rolled my nipples between your fingers until they were hard and sensitive. Then you placed the two small metal bars on the top and bottom of my nipple and screwed them down tight. I felt squished but not in pain, yet. I know this kind of thing builds and builds until I am writhing on the floor.
After both nipples where taken care of, you pulled the chain down my tummy until it reached my pussy. You clicked your tongue a couple of times, looking for something. Finally, I figured you were shortening the chain, pulling my nipples down and my clit upwards.
I could feel my inner walls clenching and unclenching rapidly. If I could breathe properly without tugging the chain, you would probably here the shudder in my breath.
I am too far in my head. How do I know? Because I missed you grabbing another toy. When the crop came down on my nipple, my body spasmed from the unexpected blow. Pain blossomed in my breast and my nipple from the crop, and in my pussy from the tugging of the chain.
Then you brought another down on the other breast. Twelve times your crop made my body move. Twelve times I held my breath as the leather connected to my skin.
If this is the warm up, I’m almost afraid of what you have planned when we get outside.
You teased me so gently. You kissed the warmed, reddened skin of my breast. One soft kiss to each before you’ve snapped your fingers twice.
I’m learning. I move tenderly to the floor, trying very hard not to pull any which way that will tug the chain.
“Today, you will stay on all fours, kneeling, or sitting. There will be no standing and no using furniture. If you need to catch my attention, you will kneel with your forehead to the floor and your arms crossed above your head. Is that clear?”
“Good girl. Now get moving. I will direct you as we go.”
I started crawling. The hardwood floors were not the most comfortable but not near as bad as gravel. I could deal with the cherrywood.
I made it about four doors from the Master when you told me to turn. Your command to go left was punctuated with your crop thwacking my clit. My arms shook slightly. Damn you.
Three more doors and I was told to take a right, two thwacks this time.
I’m wet. I desperately want to hide my state from you but I’m sure you can see my juices glistening. If this continues, I may make a mess of your beautiful floors.
We made it to the top of the stairs. I hesitated slightly, unsure of how to keep my balance. This time I got your bare hand to my ass. The smack propelled my body forward and it took all I have not to crash down the marble staircase.
“Turn around and back down if you are so afraid. I will not have you hold up my plans pet”. Such cold words from you Ma’am. But I understand. I am for your pleasure, not for you to coddle.
I did as you suggested and near slid down the stairs. As I backed down to the main floor, I felt something slide between my legs. I backed up to a kneeling position and placed my head to the floor. I could see a glimpse of a toy, but I did not wish to upset you by analyzing instead of asking.
“Yes girl. This is something else you will wear for me today. You may lift your head to see your toy.”
I looked up to see a rubber dildo. It was flesh colored with slight veins to make it more lifelike. I’ve never had one like that used on my before.
“Grab it pet. Then I want your head back down. That’s right, now spread your legs. Slide your hand between your legs and play.”
I moved the tip of the dildo to my pussy lips and slowly pushed it in. Just the tip, I ran up and down, across my clit. I could feel my wetness dripping down the toy.
I made sure it was nice and wet. Then you told me to push the head in. Stretch myself.
After a couple of minutes, you told me to fuck myself. To push the toy deep, even if it hurt.
As I did so, I could hear the telltale clicks of a camera. My hand stilled.
“I didn’t say you could stop pet. If you are wondering about the pictures, you best get used to it. I plan to make a very dirty scrapbook of my very own dirty whore.”
My cheeks burned with your admission. I don’t know what is worse: people witnessing this humiliation once or having to relive it over and over every time the pictures are shown.
I knew better than to fight. Year ago, when I was more naive, I would have staged a riot in response. Now, I simply tried to swallow my tears and continue with my orders.
I moved the head of the toy up and down a few more times before pushing it deep inside me. I held my breath as I moved the toy in and out. I didn’t want to make a sound for you.
I heard you tick your tongue. “You obviously need assistance pet if you are able to play so silently. I expect you to put on a show for me.”
“Let us continue on since you seem to be disappointed with your surprises pet. You will keep the toy in you. You will be punished if it falls out.”
I grimaced against the floor. As slick as I am currently, it will be a miracle if I can clench enough to keep it inside me. But you are already upset with me. It’s been two days and I’ve already disappointed you.
You had me turn around and face the massive windows at the front of the house.
I quickly looked down. You never mentioned guests.
And I know they saw it all.
You smacked the crop against my ass, a reminder to continue outside. I am struggling to maintain my balance and keep the toy inside of me.
I keep my head down, grimacing slightly as the finished wood floor changed to concrete stairs. They bit into my knees slightly.
This time I opted to go down head first. Six stairs later I was successful. I continued forward until I heard the two snaps. I stopped dead. With only a couple of strides you were standing beside me.
“I want you to curl up by the tree over there pet. I am going to greet our guests.”
I crawled across the damp grass to the Willow tree you had indicated. I curled up in a small ball in hopes your guests would forget my presence and, in an effort, to relieve the ache the chain was causing me.
All I want to do is play. To relieve the pressure and the tension. But I know better.
After all, patience is a virtue…even to a slave.
I’m not sure what you are saying to your guests Ma’am. I see them gesture over here where I am curled but yet, no one has called me to service nor have I been approached.
I’m mentally preparing myself for what you may ask of me. This would not be the first time I have been the entertainment to a group. I honestly can’t say it will be the last.
I am startled awake by a hand on my shoulder. I jerk away, my eyes large and bright and my breathing laboured.
I didn’t mean to fall asleep.
As my senses come back to me, I hang my head.
Today is not my day
“Stand.”. I do as you ask, my body protesting as the chain tugs my nipples down and my clit up. It is scarcely long enough when I stand. Somehow, I bet that is what you were counting on.
You release the nipple clamps and let them fall to the ground, adding weight to the lower clip. You immediately smack your palm against my breast, snagging the nipple brutally as you pull back. My mouth opens in a silent scream.
You repeat the process and I am trying to stand still for you. I can’t help the flinching Ma’am. It’s been bred into me.
I can feel the toy in me shifting and I close my legs tight to keep it in. I don’t want to get in trouble or have you brought back your friends.
I’m not sure where they are, but they aren’t here and that is what I care about.
You must have seen the relief on my face because you made sure I looked you in the eye when you spoke.
“You are mine girl. Mine to use and abuse anywhere I please. I can give you to others simply for entertainment or I can invite them to watch you be my whore. It’s is my will that determines who you are and when. Had I wanted an audience, we would still have one. Is that clear?”
I tap my thigh twice. I understand what you mean. And the warning is clear.
You instruct me to place my hands behind my head and interlock my fingers.
“Should I ask for an answer you may not or shake your head. Do you understand?”. As often as you verify your orders, I wonder if you believe I am slow. After all, that’s what the others warned you about.
“We are going to play. I’ve decided to decorate you. I will see your skin blush before we are done.”
I can understand your love of the crop Ma’am. It gives a clear, concise motivation when used correctly. It also has quite a bit of bite for being so small. You seem to delight in teasing me with it however.
“Spread your legs.”. I do so slowly, the toy threatening to fall with each movement. I’ve clenched as hard as I can. I hope you will show me mercy soon.
You take the tip of the crop and tap it against the chain on my clit. The shaking of the chain weighs on it heavily. I have to clench my muscles to stay still. You slide it lewdly between my pussy lips. When you pull it back to inspect it, I can see it glistening with my juices.
“You got my crop dirty.”. I shake my head in denial even though the proof is right in front of me. You tap my lips with the small piece of leather and tell me to open and clean it. I can taste myself mingling with the leather and it is a weird taste I’ve not experienced before.
When it is clean, you pull it back and bring it down firmly on my swollen left nipple. My body rocks under the force. It burns, and the pain is instantons. I’m sure you will live up to your words. I will have marks for days before you are sated.
About the Author
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.