My knees ached. Carrying my shoulders back without eventually slouching was a feat and we were going on for two hours. I held my head high, chin tipped slightly to my right, keeping you in my periphery as you were sitting comfortably in a club chair partially behind me.
My discomfort grew as you talked, joking with your fellow Dominants. Not that anyone would notice unless they were close enough to notice the strain around my eyes. I was tired. Tired of waiting, tired of boredom, tired of the discomfort. Not that I would say a word, though. No.
I must’ve been lost in my thoughts as it took a tug on my leash to pull me from my musings.
“Kitten, Sir Damien has arrived and wants a whiskey.”
I flush under your tone, noting the slight twinge of displeasure at having to repeat yourself. Standing, I unfurl my legs, trying to look as graceful as I can while masking an imperceptible wince. On stiff legs I head to the bar without thought, upturning a crystal glass and adding a piece of ice. My movements are practised. Expedient. Setting the tongs aside I open the Macallan Ruby and pour two fingers. The small crackle of the ice reminds me of how my weary bones feel right that moment.
I pivot slowly, sniffer in hand, and glide gracefully across the room to kneel at Sir Damien’s feet. Two feet from my destination I stumble, falling to one knee as the glass soars in the air so I can catch myself, lest I faceplant.
“What the fuck?!”
Starring up with wide horrified eyes, I see Sir Damien is drenched in the golden liquid, his shirt plastered to his chest. I scramble to dab at the wetness, my bare hands no use. “Kitten! What’s wrong with you?” You sound so upset with me, I’d never heard that tone before.
Turning my panicked eyes on you, meeting your furious gaze, I shiver. “I’m so, so sorry my Master!” Looking back at the less angry Dominant, I explain, “I’m so sorry Sir Damien. I swear it was an accident! My legs are just so tired from kneeling so long without moving and…” trailing off when I realize he’s not even looking at me, my brows furrow.
Following his gaze back to yours, my eyes widen as I watch your silent exchange and then your nod to Sir Damien. A feeling of anxiousness churning my insides. “My Master…?”
Two strong arms grip my waist, unceremoniously lifting me up, making me gasp. Sir Damien throws me over his shoulder and I squirm, fighting his hold across my thighs and calves. “Stop! Put me down!” I smack my open palm to his wide back, panic rising. “No, enough! Stop walking and put me down this instant!” Getting no response, I tilt my head back, my eyes wide with fear meeting yours. “Please, my Master! Tell him to stop! I beg you!”
You give me a flat look and my breath hitches in my lungs.
I continue to squirm, trying to fight the steel bands across my lower body, hands now pounding as your eyes disappear from my view and we enter one of the many playrooms in the mansion.
Letting me down, fingers gripping my hair before my toes even fully hit the ground. Removing his belt and looping it around my throat, he spins me around and pushes me, pulling me forward with his makeshift leash. He stops before a metal rig hanging from the ceiling. Tugging me the last few feet with a sharp jerk, I gag, feet almost tripping over themselves to cover the short distance, coming to a stop directly beneath the steel bar. “I would recommend you not anger us more than you already have, slave. You will NOT like the consequences.” Spinning me to face the door, I close my eyes chiding myself for having hope I’d see you walk in here and take me away. “Hands. Now.”
Without conscious thought I lift my arms and stretch them towards the hanging chains, knowing full well I’m to be tied to the contraption. A resigned look crosses my face as the Dominant at my back makes quick work of cuffing my wrists in plain manacles. He rounds me, filling my vision and I look up into his dark expression. Reaching into his pocket he retrieves a butterfly knife and spins it as it snaps into place. My breath stutters in my lungs as he runs it down from the dip in my neck to between my rapidly rising and falling breasts all the way to the edge of my dress. My body is so rigid, you could pluck me like a string on a guitar.
“Tsk, tsk. A clothed slave simply will not do.”
Gripping my hair in a painfully tight fist, he jerks my head back, running the knife down from my temple, over my cheekbones to my lips. Pressing the flat of the blade against my bottom lip, he pauses a moment, my body trembling in fear.
“Answer me, slave.”
The blade still pressed to my lips, I don’t know this man or what he’s capable of, nor what he’ll do to me, but a voice in my head sings like a litany, “Your Master always keeps you safe”. “N-no, Sir.”
“Good girl.” I watch as the knife moves, slipping beneath the left strap of my dress, and with a sharp pull, it’s shredded. The same is done to the right, tearing through the thin fabric like it’s paper. I shudder, a flush of embarrassment colouring my cheeks as the silk slips past my heaving breasts, down first my waist, then hips, pooling at my feet leaving me completely exposed. Naked. “That’s much better.” I can hear the smirk in his tone and my blush brightens.
Gripping the strap of the belt, he centres it between my tits, its end coming to rest just below my pussy lips. He flicks a finger over my hard nipple, the piercing pulling the sensitive nerves, sending a jolt of pleasure to my clit. His hands run over me, touching my body and it takes everything I have not to recoil from his foreign touch.
Rounding me, he runs his fingers through my long hair, he’s gentle as he begins to braid my hair and the softness of my hair brushing over my skin slowly helps me unwind my taut muscles. Relaxing a fraction, I give a little sigh of appreciation as it’s placed over my shoulder and a blindfold is placed over my eyes.
Shuffling, I hear footsteps, the door being opened and closed. More footsteps. It’s quiet for a moment as there’s more shuffling, a zipper being pulled, and things are moved around. My mind goes wild trying to imagine what’s happening, what’s making the noises I’m hearing, as though just from the sound of things I could guess exactly what was coming.
“Safeword.” Sir Damien’s voice comes to me somewhere off in the distance in the room. I furrow my brows as I try to distinguish where exactly it came from, but hesitate only a second before responding.
“Pineapple, Sir.”
“Good girl.”
He was to my right. Yes, somewhere behind me, over my right shoulder. From the distance of his voice, I’d guess a good ten paces away.
I startle as I feel the thongs of a flogger run softly across my spine and move over my left shoulder. It’s the only indication I have that the session is about to begin as the first strike lands over my ass. I hiss as the strands sink and bounce off my skin, the strength behind the impact guaranteeing angry welts will already cover my delicate skin.
An aria begins in the distance. Its soft, soothing sound envelops my senses.
I dance beneath the lashes, my back, hips and thighs getting equal attention causing me to curl my fingers into tiny fists, bend my knees, raise my shoulders, and move to my toes. I moan as each swing causes the belt’s tip to smack against my pussy lips as I jerk in my bindings. The pain radiates heat deep into my body, spreading like liquid over my muscles. I’m on fire. Lips parting, I throw my head back, a soft sound rising from my throat as my arms grip the chains binding me, the pain of the whipping almost unbearable.
My mind drifts as the rhythm follows the rise and fall of the piece and I reach a point where the pain isn’t pleasure, the pleasure isn’t pain. I just am.
I’m floating.
There’s nothing here, just euphoria. A deep sense of calm fills me and I lose touch with reality. I know not where I am, what’s happening. I know just this feeling. This peace. I no longer feel my body, the aches in my calves, the fire under my skin, the chafing of my wrists. I am weightless. My eyes may be blindfolded and closed, but I am a being of light. So very bright it eclipses any shadow as I’m driven inward.
All too soon I’m ripped from this little haven.
Zzzzap
I’m wrenched back into my body as the first jolt of electricity hits my soaked clit and I howl, tears stinging my eyes. I pant, trying to recover from the pain as another shock wracks my small frame when the prong is pressed to my breast. Unable to contain them, my tears fall freely as a calloused hand kneads my tit.
For a moment there is nothing but the sounds of breathing in the room. The rustling of fabric. The belt is removed from around my neck and water is poured along my skin. I gasp and shudder as the lukewarm water feels like icicles to my feverish flesh.
Warmth envelopes me as he presses his naked body to mine, his hard cock digging into my hip. I grunt in pain as the abused flesh is compressed between our bodies. Arms encircling my waist, one comes to tease a nipple as the other presses into my drenched folds, gently rubbing my throbbing clit. One by one my arms are freed, and carefully set down against my sides as I slump, body utterly depleted, offering no resistance. I don’t register the extra set of hands, I’m too tired to do anything but breathe.
Hand leaving my clit, it slips beneath my knees and I’m carried to the edge of a bed. Putting me down and bending me over the side, I feel the blindfold being removed from my tear-stained face. Blinking as the soft light fills my vision, I see Sir Damien seated clothed in a dark Chesterfield, stiff cock in hand, stroking as he watches me and…
I stiffen and look over my shoulder, exhaling in elation as your gaze meets mine.
“Welcome back, kitten mine,” you say as you dip your hips and align your cock at my entrance. “I wanted to keep going… but I can’t help myself, I need to be inside you.”
In one long, deep stroke you fill every inch of my tight little cunt, coming to a stop at the very base of my cervix.
Wrapping your forearm around my throat, you force me back into you, deepening the curl in my spine. I moan in ecstasy as you begin pounding my pussy like a man possessed, my breasts bouncing, our skin slapping. Sir Damien strokes his cock furiously as your fingers return to my needy clit.
I groan with every brutal thrust, the pain of your body slamming into mine a distant thought as you rub my pussy, cock stretching me as you impale me over and over.
Sir Damien’s orgasm seeming to set off my own, I clench down like a vise grip over your cock, setting off your own orgasm. Our three sets of harsh breaths echo in the otherwise silent room. Finally disturbing the silence, Sir Damien stands, shoving himself back in his pants and leaves, offering you a small dip in his chin.
Gathering me up in your arms, I wince as you deposit us in the middle of the bed and lay us down facing one another. Fingertips pushing a stray lock of my hair away from my face you smile into my tired face. Rubbing your nose against mine you lean back to ask, “what did you learn today my princess?”
Opening my eyes, I gaze down at your lips. “That I’m yours my Master.”
Nodding in approval, you give me a bright smile. “I’m proud of you my precious princess-slave, you obeyed despite thinking another man was touching you. In submitting to him, you learned how deeply you submit to me.” You run a finger over my bottom lip.
“You belong to me. I own everything about you, control everything you experience. It’s all mine. You’re all mine.”
“Yes my Master, I’m all yours. Entirely. Irrevocably. Yours.”
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