bdsm contract

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I simply exist.

I exist for Master’s pleasure.

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

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

It…hurts.

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

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

But I don’t say a word.

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

So, I wait.

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

Maybe.

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

And they fall all over Him.

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

Not one of them will come near me.  

But he draws them in like moths to a flame.

He is intoxicating.

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

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

It amuses me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two snaps.

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

“I have a gift for you.”

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

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

“It will be delivered shortly.”

Two snaps.

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

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

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

He is a good Master.

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

Do I get to play?

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

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

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

But she is worth mine.

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

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

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

It’s delicious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Master returns to his seat.

Two snaps.

I kneel back up.

“Entertain me, pet.”

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

I hope she tries to run.

She is shaking.  

It is delightful.

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

Is it bad I wanted a fight, Master?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I click my tongue.  Tsk. Tsk. Tsk.

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

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

It is much better play when the prey fights back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I watch her shudder.

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

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

Master said I should entertain him.

An idea pops into my head.

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

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

She made her choice.

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

“Stand.  Or I will make you.”

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

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

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

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

The blood is glistening.  It excites me.

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

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

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

Two snaps.

I am kneeling upright again.

Two snaps.

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

Two snaps.

My eyes move to meet his.

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

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

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

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

Master really is intoxicating.

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

She is interrupting my bliss.

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

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

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

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

He’s going to play with her.

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

She won’t know what hit her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I flinch.  I know that feeling.

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

They all break for him in the end.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you want is more.

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

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

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

She will be fine in a little while.

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

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

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

He locks the door.

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