The Possessed and The Possessive

Her body is lathered in a thin layer of sweat that catches the light and shines brightly.

Her chest is lifting up off the bed, straining against the rope with every fluttering breath she takes.

He looks at her beautiful pink cunt, smooth and spread open, drenched in anticipation, and he whips her again, just to watch her thighs go to close. Something they can never savour. Her legs are stretched apart. Bound. Her release is monitored by him – and he relishes that fact.

There’s no gag around her mouth tonight, no slither of drool beading down her neck slowly. She huffs and puffs and growls and spits and seethes and drools in between letting out utter obscenities under her breath.

Foul words come out in halves – a …uck here, a …the shit..? There. She’s making little sense.

Watching her body flinch under the leather whip, controlling the whip that comes down upon her stretched out little cunt, her stretched out little cunt spread open by his ropes just for his pleasure, she’s nothing like the woman outside their haven, out there in the world.

He doesn’t recognise this woman spitting out guttural curses, writhing around as much as the ropes allow. Who is this animal? This demon? This creature? What locked up part of her mind did this feral entity come from? The way she speaks, when she’s not breathless, that low register, that barely human growl. He recalls the sensation of a scratchy throat just by listening to her.

The things she says. The things she wants.

It’s infectious. He can feel it creeping over him, slinking down her legs, off her clenched toes and seeping down towards him. He can feel the self he projects to the world fading away. He can feel his skin bristle and crack, peel away. He is tearing free. He doesn’t know who this new person is. They will find out soon enough.

Her transformation sparks his own. They’re changing together.

The Wilderness Beckons

Just a few things before we get started – I don’t know if it’s needed but I know it got under my skin so – this piece features anxiety and that terrible mind-altering panic that comes with a panic attack. This may or may not be triggering. I don’t know how good of a writer I am in instilling that into a reader. But I know it gave me knots in my stomach.

Oh and this is long so get comfortable. I hope you enjoy.

————-

The restaurant was alive all around her – a hundred voices buzzing all at once. People gestured animatedly, some laughed uproariously.

Delilah couldn’t shut the noise out. It was going to consume her, this place. She was sinking into the chair and she’d continue to sink until she was absorbed into it, becoming just another piece of the environment.

“Are you okay?”

James’ voice shattered her thoughts into a thousand tiny pieces. They fell away from her grasp and scattered on their dinner table as she looked up at his kind face.

He was looking at her from across the dinner table, a look of concern in his deep, brown eyes.

Delilah’s eyes fell to his crinkled black dress shirt, to the crooked collar. She wanted – oh so badly – to reach across the space between them and fix that. It was bugging her.

She could have, by all means. But something held her still.

Was it the people around her, out at dinner themselves? She thought.

Is it because it’s our nine year anniversary and I’d only make even more of a fool of myself?

No, she thought, feeling her eyes lose focus on the crooked collar before her, it must be the rain outside. It had to be a change in the weather or a full moon or something screwing with her mind more so than usual.

Like a light flicking on, Delilah’s mind was drawn to the uncomfortable warmth in her armpits. She could feel herself starting to sweat. Did she apply enough deodorant?

Her body started to flush with a disgusting warmth that slithered from her spine down to her ass. She wanted to tear off this simple black floral dress and just get naked.

That was a feeling that hit her every now and then. A want, a need, to get whatever she was wearing off of her skin, like everything was itching at her, like nothing would settle her mind until she was completely naked. Sometimes it frustrated her so much she’d scream, other times it came with a sickening sensation that washed over her like warm water. With it, came a surreal understanding – a moment of clarity, perhaps – that what she was experiencing was erotic.

“Lilah? Lovely?”

Delilah looked at James. Lovely, normal James. Friendly James. Sweet James. Safe James.

“Let’s just go home and order something in. It’ll be just the two of us.”

James wasn’t just looking at her, he was reading her face. He knew her fidgeting habits, they had been together long enough for him to know, what he calls, her ‘tells’. Like she was a living poker game or something.

His face curved into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. They were on her, never wavering. Like he held her in his own steel trap.

Delilah wanted to run and keep running, till her panting and heaving and body sweat made her incapable of thought.

She opened her mouth to speak, her lips feeling cracked and dry, but all that came out was a quivering breath.

James, eyes never darting, smile never lighting them, gave a single nod.

“We’ll go. Okay?”

Delilah felt resistance grip her body and mind in a convulsion. James caught this too.

“It’s alright, really. Please, baby. I’m not mad. Okay? I promise this to you.”

His tone was perfect, his delivery sincere. Delilah had no reason to doubt him but doubt, of course, ran as an undercurrent underneath each word, sizzling with each sound the word itself made.

Think of something else, Delilah told herself.

I am a cat, slinking away in the night.

Something else.

I rest my head on a neat pile of foliage.

Something else!

This is the place I call home.

“Let me pay the check and we’ll go, yeah? I won’t wait.”

Before she could get out one word, if she even could – her mouth was hanging open – James rose to his feet and left their table to hunt down the bill.

Delilah’s palms were resting on either thigh, nails dug deep into the fabric of her dress. She could smell the remainder of their food mixed with her perfume. It made her want to be sick.

Her mind fell onto the audible track of her heart beating in her chest and in her ears.

Be quiet, she wanted to hiss. No words came.

What is wrong? With me, with this?

No words came.

The restaurant was going to open its jaws and swallow her whole any minute now – just bare its teeth and consume her, dress and shoes and pretty little panties and fucking everything. She would be gone. Totally.

Run, a voice hissed at her. Her own voice, calm and cool.

Delilah felt acid churn in her stomach, a terrible burning sensation gnawing at her insides.

Run! The voice hissed at her – louder this time.

Delilah shot up out of her chair, her crumpled dress falling back down around her pale legs.

Stumbling on legs like a newborn calf, she moved out from their table and down the gauntlet that had populated tables on either side.

Voices were all around her, overlapping one another. Laughing people, animated faces. Hundreds of conversations filling her mind.

Delilah couldn’t breathe. She stumbled towards the exit in a stupor, waiters and waitresses eyeing her as if she was ill or a ticking time bomb seconds away from erupting and disrupting.

Their eyes on her only drove her forward more so, the sick feeling in her gut rising.

As she reached for the doors to the restaurant, she began to retch. Her lips, sore from being dry too long, held in a sputtering cough.

Was the door to the restaurant push or pull? She didn’t know, she didn’t think. She shakily reached out and pulled the door. Pull was right.

Stepping into the evening was like stepping into a walk-in freezer.

Boy howdy, the chill was a snake winding up around her leg and underneath her dress. She could feel it’s icy touch run over her breasts through her thin, lacy bra and stab at her nipples.

Outside, the city was alive and very much awake still. People flooded the walkway before her, some eyeing her just as the workers behind her did, some pushing past her.

Delilah didn’t notice this. Feeling lightheaded, she crossed the road, her mind on the park across the street from her. Her eyes fixated on the tangled bushes that would shield her from..from all of this.

A yellow taxi came to a screeching halt before her. The driver stuck his head out the window to yell obscenities. This only shot more adrenaline into Delilah’s system. Pinpricks of heat flushed down her head, as if she was standing up suddenly.

Delilah’s legs knew what to do though. They moved quickly – one foot in front of the other, heels click-clacking on the asphalt. Delilah mimicked their rhythm vocally, as if humming to herself, as she crosses the road and pressed her way through treebranches and into the park ahead of her. The rhythm soothed her, distracted her.

When she felt the light from the road disappear behind her, darkness enveloping her, her legs kicked into a run.

A wooden pathway twisted and turned before her and off into the distance but Delilah didn’t care to be led – she just ran.

Was it normal for her heart to beat this fast for her age? Was this going to be her end, having a heart attack on the park grounds?

Delilah let the thought swirl around her and engorge her. Her chest rose and fell with every breath, sweet, sweet air gushing down into her lungs.

She felt her left heel fall off…then the right. She let it go. The ground, the dirt crunching beneath her feet felt right. It felt light, lighter than she had been in months.

Tears dribbled down her eyes, blurring the dark park and bush ahead of her while wetting the corners of her mouth. She could taste it – the light salt taste of herself. She could lose herself in it, the blurred parkway around her her.

Something grabbed ahold of her bare foot and Delilah’s vision lunges forward. She was flying through the air, soaring over a pile of leaves and sticks.

Suddenly pain exploded in her chest, as if she fell on solid concrete. A heaviness that rattled the teeth in her mouth.

Delilah was on her stomach on the ground, leaves in her hair, tears in her eyes. She let out a cough that had been building since she left the restaurant. Her chest heaved, her breasts aching with faint pain. A dry cough came out once – twice, clawing her throat and bringing more tears to her eyes.

She was going to be sick. She just knew this, some sort of sense her mind was firing off to her. Her whole body prepared itself as she began to retch, her stomach muscles convulsing.

She emptied her dinner out on the park grounds in a series of guttural cries.

Breathless, teary-eyed, somehow feeling fucking amazing from the endorphins flooding her system, Delilah knelt there on the floor, her dinner underneath her, sizzling into the leaves in the ground, kinda like the blood from the creature in ALIEN.

When she felt she was done vomiting, when she felt she was done catching her breath, she climbed to her feet, dead leaves sticking to her red and crinkled knees.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to let loose a scream that she could feel lodged in her throat like phlegm.

The only thing that kept her quiet was the idea of being caught – either by someone walking along the outskirts of the park or within.

Fear crept over now, replacing the primal urge to run and be naked. Here she was, standing on trembling legs, in near darkness. The only source of light seemed to be the moon in the night sky.

Delilah felt the cold once more then. It came in waves traveling over her skin. Wind kissed the back of her neck and tickled a strand of her hair.

Somewhere ahead of her, a twig crackled. Leaves rustled. The forest began to move – trees shaking as if they were the limbs of the forest coming to life.

Delilah felt more wind skim across the back of her legs. She spread her legs another inch apart to let it through and felt it rush through the gap between her thighs and leave her.

Her heart was working overtime again, her mind aware of its pumping in her chest and in her ears again.

I’m going to be attacked, she thought. I am going to be attacked or raped or both and it’s going to be my fault because James was back there and James was safe and why did I ever leave the restaurant. I do not like this place, not now, not at all.

From the shadows, a shape emerged – and Delilah willed her legs to move. Nothing.

Delilah couldn’t look away. Her eyes, her mind, was frozen on the shape before her.

She thought of a rapist, of a killer, of a figure with the body of a man and the head of an owl.

The shape itself seemed to ripple, as if reality was distorting around it, bending it to its will – and now Delilah would be next in line to be forced, wouldn’t she?

She caught sight of a leg stepping into the light…then another leg. Leg dotted with hair.

A man, Delilah thought and understood. A naked man. A junkie? A homeless man?

Shame flushed her cheeks for jumping to that conclusion.

Piercing green eyes materialised from the darkness. Dazzling emeralds fading into existence. Stars being born.

The rest of this man’s face emerged from the darkness, staring blankly at her, his medium length dark hair – or shadowed hair – seemingly slick back with something. Sweat?

The man stepped further into the light, his toned arms catching the kiss of the moon. He was naked, Delilah realised. Utterly naked.

She wanted to avert her eyes but couldn’t. Something was holding her in place, keeping her vision on his eyes.

Even out of the corner of her eyes, as he took one step further, Delilah could see his cock, masked lightly by a thin cover of pubic hair.

A breath caught in her throat as the naked man stood before her. He did not speak, he did not smile. He only stood watching her, his glowing eyes never leaving her.

Delilah felt her knees buckle – and tried to right herself – but she collapsed to her knees, inches away from her own vomit.

She knew this, she was thinking this, but her eyes never left the man before. The handsome man, the gorgeous man. Was that a dimple on his right cheek?

Delilah felt lost in a daze, like waking from a dream. Her eyelids felt heavy when she blinked through the tears forming in her eyes.

Before she realised what she was doing, her hands were lifting simultaneously to the straps of her dress. They peeled the thin tangle down her lightly-tanned shoulders.

Suddenly, she knew, deep in her mind and heart, that she wanted to get naked for this man. She wanted to him to see her naked. She wanted him to gaze upon her small breasts, upon the freckle above her belly button, upon her belly button herself.

Why she wasn’t naked already, waiting for him, she didn’t know. How silly she had been, not to be proper.

Delilah stuffed the dress down around her waist, hoping – secretly hoping – this man would like the fluffy detailing of her white lacy bra that hugged her cool skin. She thought it was fun and girly and maybe He would appreciate it more then James did when she was getting dressed for their date. Maybe He knew what to do about her, unlike James.

Delilah peeled off the dress further, wriggling out of it.

She blinked tears away as her hands didn’t miss a beat, they reached behind her to deftly unclasp her bra. Her small breasts felt the bra become unhooked and savoured the freedom, savoured the night air. Her little pink nipples hardened at the touch of it.

Delilah only wanted to please this man. She knew she could do this by offering herself as a tribute. Her body, her mind, her soul. Deep in her heart she knew this to be true.

As her bra fell away, as she tossed it aside, not minding where it fell, she could hear blood pumping away in her ears. The deafening, sickening noise created for her some kind of thick, pulsating beat to which she could continue to undress to.

She shifted from where she was, peeling her dress away from her legs and letting it fall to a clump by her feet.

Now she was just in her underwear – black, lacy underwear, with a little pink bow front and centre. Delilah couldn’t shake the girly feeling that washed over her mind, slathering her body with slick sweat. She couldn’t shake this feeling that before Him she was a child – or worse, an infant.

Panic started to zigzag across her body in thousands of tiny pinpricks of heat. What if she wasn’t good enough for Him? What if He rejected her offering. What if He rejected HER?

The man knelt beside her, her eyes darting between hers, unreadable. His lips parted, he spoke something, his voice deep, the words in a language Delilah’s mind couldn’t process.

Her eyes fell. She wasn’t doing that on her own accord, she just followed the line of sight as they dropped down to his thick, hard cock.

A strange hunger filled her suddenly. She wanted to crawl on her knees towards his cock and guide it into her mouth. That felt, to her, like the right thing to do.

Just letting the idea play out in her mind, like a short film only for her, made her chest swell with pride. Would He enjoy her mouth? Would she be a good girl?

It all happened so fast.

The man shot out toward her – lightening fast, Delilah thought, before her vision went tumbling upside down. She felt the drop in her gut, like she was plummeting down a hill in a roller coaster.

The forest before her suddenly became still. Delilah could see the skinny trees stretch out into the darkness before her. That darkness seemed to swallow everything in front of her. Delilah was on all fours at the edge of the world, leaves and dirt crunching underneath her hands and knees.

Heart rabbiting in her chest, blood thunderous in her ears, Delilah struggled against the Man’s grip but he had her held tightly. She could feel his fingers digging into her sides, her mind painting the picture of reddened fingertips and her flesh turning white at the grip.

Delilah’s nostrils filled with the earthy scent of dying leaves and dirt. The scent of —

Her senses exploded, blood rushing to her head, swaying her vision. She could feel it, burrowing deep into her cunt – His cock. She wasn’t prepared for it, her body wasn’t prepared for it. Her cunt wasn’t ready for it.

Her chest seized tight, knocking air from her lungs. It came out of her in a wheeze.

“J..James…” Delilah managed to struggle out, her mind reeling and racing and running wildly with thoughts. Thoughts that didn’t come fully formed. Something was happening to her mind.

It came to her attention, then and there, her cunt muscles were clenched as His cock was buried within her. It only came to her because when she felt his cock slip out of her, she felt her muscles retract.

A moan escaped her lips as she felt a tickle there between her legs, something she hadn’t felt in a while. Something she now wanted more of – desperately.

Delilah heard Him grunt behind her as she felt the thrust, as she felt his balls smack against the inside of her thigh.

Feeling him fill her again filled her with a giddiness she couldn’t describe. Her mind reeling, vision swaying again, she fell forward, small breasts hitting the rough texture of dying leaves.

They crunched underneath her, pricking her flesh.

It all happened so fast, being flipped over and penetrated like this. And yet…pride was swelling in the back of her mind. Pride tinged with satisfaction – at being chosen.

Her life seemed all the more distant with each thrust the man took.

Delilah welcomed all of it. The force behind her, the earth underneath her, scratching her skin raw. Her knees, buckling under the weight of Him.

Oh she was pinned to the Earth and unable to escape but she wasn’t a victim. No, she was an offering. She felt that more than ever now, pride swirling with the ravenous hunger that had been building in the pit of her gut. She was a fitting offering. Possibly even the best ever. Was that too much to ask of Him?

Delilah felt her body grind into the dirt, creating a little crevice, a little groove. She felt flecks of dirt stick to her skin, rub at her skin.

A part of her wanted to crawl up to her knees and rest up against the Man. In her mind, she could see it just as she could see the ground before her now – she would climb to her knees, His cock slipping out of her cunt, smacking against his legs as she came to grind her ass back into him, teasing her in a way she never could before she had run into the park. Into this other world.

Delilah let the moment wash over her. She could feel his cock stretch her lips apart, she embraced this fullness feeling that made her giddy and made her feel sick at the same time.

Behind her, He grunted with each thrust, muttering under his breath in between panting.

Delilah lost herself in the rhythm of the act, each thrust for her becoming a welcomed embrace and a welcomed retreat. It was intoxicating, addicting. She wanted it, she wanted HIM. Again. And again.

“Harder” She tried to say – but all that came out of her was a squeak.

Delilah tried to speak again. She opened her mouth, her little tongue ready with the words, but instead a growl came out of her.

She felt her throat burn with the low noise, she felt her jaw clench as the end of it came rippling out of her lips.

Frustrated, she balled her fists into the earth and shakily rose herself up on them, in a way that felt like she was doing push-ups. Her arms ached as they took the weight.

Her intent was in lifting her ass back into Him. She wanted to grind against him, to feel His cock nestled between her ass cheeks.

Her whole body started to shake as she rose higher, arching her back and lifting her ass.

An explosion went off in her temples, tears formed instantly in her mind. She had been hit. No – smacked.

Her body was back down against the dirt, her breasts squished underneath her.

As Delilah blinked through the tears, her mind unraveled the thread of the mystery. Her ass was stinging where the man had smacked her. She could feel the bite on her left ass cheek, radiating pain. Pain that felt strangely good.

A memory came to the forefront of her mind, as if rattled loose by the smack.

Delilah was lying naked on her stomach on the bed she shared with James, her head buried into the bed quilt. Her ass was lifted into the air, feeling the cool kiss of the winter night.

Smack me, she had asked James – and he had obliged, only gently. Too gently for her own tastes.

Harder, she had asked, and James tried, but a sinking feeling began to manifest in Delilah. She knew his heart wasn’t it. She just knew.

That was a few months ago now.

Delilah’s mind returned to the present. She was panting, body sinking into the ground, ass stinging even with the cool night air clutching at her skin.

She opened her mouth, to respond to Him, but before the words could leave her lips, pain burst across her right ass cheek, rippling across her body. His open hand.

Then came shuffling and crunching – dirt and leaves and grass rustling. Then crackling. As if a camp fire was nearby. But if a campfire was —

Another eruption of pain, clawing at her ass, this time in the centre, and tougher. Harder. Not a hand this time, Delilah thought, her mind still processing the pain, but something else. A stick?

The something else came across her bare skin again, sending pain pulsating up across her thighs.

Delilah felt the pain, red hot and searing, and knew her skin was scratched open and bleeding. She just knew this to be true.

And yet…that feeling of pride was still with her, still in her, still aching like her soaked cunt. She understood to take this without a word, without a complaint. She would show him that she was worthy, that, yes, she was wrong to lift her ass to Him. Things could’ve come to her in due time.

That’s when she felt the crack of the stick against her cunt.

Delilah let out a howl – not just at the pain of it against her wet lips — she was extremely sensitive. That was an explosion of pain and pleasure in itself.

Before her howl had finished, Delilah was smacked again, this time a jagged piece of branch clawed across her clit. This caused the end of her howl to come out in a strangled whimper.

She could feel it there, the presence of the branch, even when it wasn’t there at all. She could feel its sting along her exposed slight.

And yet, exhilaration throbbed through her body, leaving her a quivering mess on the ground. She had always wanted this, to be spanked, hard and fast and raw. She had always wanted to be at the mercy of James but he confessed to her that he didn’t know how, that he couldn’t find that space.

All of this come flooding back to her as her cunt and ass throbbed with pain and pleasure simultaneously.

“Please.” Delilah managed to choke out. “Please. I will behave. I —“

She felt him enter her tortured cunt then. The rest of her sentence came out in a strained wheeze.

It fell upon her without warning, clawing at her cunt, seizing her leg muscles, blood rushing to her head, her senses in disarray, her vision a blur. Her orgasm came gushing over her in waves, forcing a grunt, deep and alien, out of clenched mouth.

Her face collapsed into the dirt. A dust cloud swept upwards into the air. Delilah let herself rest in the dirt. She was frozen. She couldn’t move. Even when she felt the cock rip itself from her sensitive little cunt, she couldn’t move. Her body went into a spasm but she didn’t move.

She lay there dazed, breathless. Her mind unable to string together a thought.

It was only when she heard the sound of something behind her exposed self crashing into the grass behind her, followed by silence, that she crawled up into a squat on shaky arms and legs. She lost her balance and fell backwards onto her ass. Pain once more shooting up her body in flaring hot tendrils.

Swerving around in a spin, Delilah looked and —- the man was gone. He was gone. Her lover, her punisher was gone.

Her mind was stuttering, trying to form a cohesive thought. Who was-

Why was —

Why did He —

What was so wrong with –

“Come back..” She whispered to the darkness around her. “I’m sorry I….please come back…”

Delilah hugged her knees. Brown, dead leaves stuck to her legs.

She felt her inflamed ass and longed for another smack to focus on. Anything instead of this encroaching darkness.

Her dress and underwear were where she left them. They were covered in dirt and leaves, just like her naked self.

Stunned and dumbstruck, reeling from the orgasm, from the absence of pain and of Him, Delilah began to slowly get dressed again.

***

James was sitting back in his seat when he saw Delilah emerge from the park.

He stumbled to his feet, the forks and knives on the table before him clattering.

All this time he thought she was in the bathroom. Calming down from a panic or what, he just did not know. Calling her resulted in going straight to voicemail. And who could he ask to check in on her? His only option was to sit and wait.

To hell with looking silly to those dining around him, his mind was only on Delilah and whether she was okay.

James was out the restaurant doors in just one breath. He was crossing the road in another breath, his eyes darting from her dirtied knees and bare feet to her distant eyes, caked with tears.

“Jesus, Lilah, what happened?”

When he reached her, he went to put his arms around her. She shrank away from his touch, her eyes looking down, her lips trembling.

James understood. He knew she didn’t like to be touched at the height of a panic.

Questions and answers would come later. Now she needed rest or a safe place or a bath or Netflix or something.

James put his arm around her slowly, gently. Delilah didn’t shrink away this time, her eyes were frozen on the ground.

Together, they made their way back to James’ car in silence.

We Betray What We Know To Be True

We betray what we know to be true.

Who we are. What we desire. What we want to say.

Films. Television. Literature. Teachings and Teachers. Parents and parenting. For years people have been discussing and studying and teaching what is right and what is wrong. How to behave and how to not behave.

It divides us from them. For, if we take away that line that seperates us from them, where does it end? What does that say about us?

Leave it to the Dream Weaver to tell us. If we’re lucky we’ll forget by the morning – how it felt to be pressed against her from behind, peeling down her g-string and seeing that wet piece of fabric peel down the curves of her ass, her scent lingering in the air. Scalding blood pumping in your ears, heart pounding in your chest.

How it feels for her to slip into submission, to shape the words on her tongue that announces to the dream world that she is, in fact, a free spirit. Free of a lacklustre life, an emotionally stagnant marriage. How badly the desire is to form the words that hang loosely on her tongue – Yes Sir or Yes Ma’am – without feeling that mind-shredding, body-trembling guilt.

Some like to justify this betrayal. “This is a sacrifice and that’s what being an adult is all about.” They like to dig deep into the piece of the sandbox that has been left for them because that’s easier. That’s normal. That’s right.

It is normal to fear what we don’t understand. To stay, because it is comfortable. But that hole within you? Gnawing at you, waking you up in the night with a hard cock pushed into the bed or a wet cunt soaking your thighs, either one leaving you breathless? That’ll grow bigger.

And bigger.

And BIGGER.

Until you can’t think of anything else, until the maddening desire to touch or seethe or spit or growl overwhelms you, suffocates you, envelops you, until you are utterly feral, possessed by your basic instincts.

And you’re back at the beginning, staring into the mirror while the wild, untamed animal within you stares back.

Who are you then? Who do you want to be? What do you want to say?

We betray what we know to be true – because the alternative is terrifying.

From One Shadow To Another

Tell me.

When you lay yourself down in your own pocket between space and time, how do you feel?

When you run your hands along the curves of your breasts, when you skim the edges of your nipples with your fingertips, how do you feel?

I don’t want you to pull out the nipple clamps. Not yet.

I want to stand here a while and watch you writhe and toss and turn and beg for the release that, for this moment in time, only cold hard steel or plastic twisting you into oblivion can bring you.

And how do you keep that little lovely cunt of yours? Waxed? Trimmed? Shaven? Full? I want to see this side of you, so that the next time you run your hands across your bare slit or through your pubic hair, I want to feel it happen even on the other side of the world.

Even on the other side of the world, I want to feel your fingertips move through your soft mound, slip apart your cute, eager lips. I want to stagger where I am at my own point in time, our minds connected by this one act across distances because I can feel you with me, in me.

Can you feel it even now? The quivering breath from my trembling lips as I feel you? My wavering legs as I try to right myself? Can you feel that reverberate within your mind? Tell me.

How does that feel? Are you squirming? Rising your hips off from where you lay? And is your own body trembling yet?

Tell me. How does it feel to have this moment to yourself?

You may use your nipple clamps and tell me. Oh – and if you don’t have any, use your hands. I so do like it when a good girl uses her hands on her own tits.

So. Project to me how you are, how you feel, where your mind is taking me. Tell me through frenzied whispers, frustrated growls, tears of joy, anguished sobs. Tell me how much you want this – to play, to cum, to ascend beyond space and time and comprehension. Rise through the air, across space. Rise beyond the galaxy and form this connective tissue with me.

You may come now.

Every Last Thought

He catches her dozing, the book upside down against her tits. Smut again. In that moment, he wanted to punish her – for all the dirty thoughts she had been thinking and keeping to herself.

He crept into the bedroom and began to undress. Freeing his thick, hard cock from his pants felt like heaven. He wanted to play but he kept focused on the mission forming in his mind.

Just as she began to stir, he threw himself on her, tossing the book aside carefully so as not to damage it. He filled her to the brim with his cock and held himself there, looking into her eyes.

“Here’s what we are going to do.” He said as she whimpered underneath him, her eyes bleary with sleep. “I’m going to edge you until you tell me every. Last. Thought. That’s been in your mind as you’ve been reading your smut. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded, licking her lips wet between another adorable fucking whimper.

By the time He was done with her, she was a mess of a person – anguished sobs wracked her body as she felt it all – relief, denial, at the shame of confessing every filthy thought and perverse fantasy. He held her though, arms safe and secure despite endlessly fucking and teasing himself and herself to the brink.

Sleep came for them then.

Read To Me

Out in this clearing beyond the trees, out in this hidden place of theirs, she stands straight as she’s been taught, she prepares herself to read aloud using her big, projected voice as she’s been taught.

The book in her hand, the book in question is a classic – Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. Fitting, for this hidden place. It’s a rabbit hole in a whole different way.

Every Saturday they come here to read a chapter or two. She dresses for him – a comfortable dress, slinky panties. His choice. Then, once they arrive in the clearing, once he pulls out a chair from their small cottage in the woods – the tiniest structure with no power or plumbing, just a place to be with nature. A home away from their home. Once he pulls out this chair and sits down in it, sometimes crossing his legs, sometimes not, always burning a hole through her chest with those searing dark eyes of his – once he sits, he would always say those few words. Read to me.

The first time they tried this, she had asked him, “Why get dressed if I’m only getting undressed?”. She sat and listened when he explained to her why. That he wanted to see her in a ritual just for them, to shed her clothes and bare herself just for him. She had noted the glazed look in his eye as he spoke of being bare just for him. She kept that look with her through the winters, through the fifteen minute hike to the clearing. She kept it in the back of her mind when she read.

At first she was nervous to read. She never liked the sound of her own voice and though she was enjoying Alice and her odyssey into wonderland, the language and the rhythm of the language wasn’t always that easy to wrap her tongue around. When she’d mistake a word or made an error though, he did not chastise her, not once. He always watched her, that look in his eye, a smile spreading out across his face. He’d comfort her and tell her how well she’s doing, that it was okay.

When she was done, he’d rise from his chair, keep his gaze upon her as he slowly undressed down to nothing. She’d note his erection and find herself salivating as he led her to the comfortable, reliable double bed in that little shack where he’d take her.

Sometimes he took her where she stood, sometimes he’d take her roughly. One time he took her by the ass. She had only let him take her anally. It felt horrible to admit but deep down, she never trusted the ones that came before with that level of intimacy.

Now she feels his eyes on her as she stands there, holding the book in her hands, her heart kicking into overdrive as she feels the gentle breeze around him brush across her breasts.

He crosses his legs, loosens his tie – all the while holding her gaze.

“Read to me.” He says.

The Fever

Last week I was in the eye of the storm with a virus I had. After, when I recovered, I found half of this story scribbled in my phone notes. I don’t know where it came from, this idea, but I decided to finish it when I felt better. Can you tell where feverish me stopped writing and recovering me picked up the story?

Chestnut coloured hair down around her face, she clawed helplessly at the deep blue satin sheets of the bed, like a dog trying to run on tiled floor. Strands of her hair were clawing at her eyes, making them sting, but this didn’t deter her. She wanted to find her footing.

Only her feet were being held up, His hands clasping her tight as he dragged her back into him. Her body, her completely nude body, slid backwards along the bed. She just couldn’t find a grip, something to hold on to.

Her tits dragged along the silky smooth fabric, nipples growing stiff as they trailed backwards. She felt betrayed by her body, by the slight sense of giddiness swirling in the pit of her stomach.

“C’mere!” He seethed at her from behind. As she felt the cool air kiss her bare bottom, she imagined his clenched jaw as he spat the words out at her. Maybe spittle dotted his lips, maybe that same spittle sprayed out across her ass cheeks, sizzling on her searing hot flesh. At least it did in this corner of her mind.

Her arms suddenly felt like dead weights. She could feel the ache gnaw at them, radiating pain in her shoulder and down along her arm.

Fuck this bed, fuck this moment. Fuck his strength.

She had her legs though, she could kick him, maybe even in the face, split his pretty lip, bruise his darkened eyes.

His darkened eyes…yes, his eyes would seem darker now. They had that effect, his dark brown eyes. They seemed to turn black when He was angered.

Fuck his dark eyes.

She flailed her legs around, trying to break free of his iron grip. It was useless.

How did he do this? How did he tear her dress apart? Why did she let herself feel so useless standing there in her boring black bra and her Wonder Woman underwear? She should’ve kicked him then, she had the training. Brown Belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, motherfucker.

So what happened? Why had she froze?

More importantly, why had she let him tear her dress apart? She could’ve torn him apart instead.

Get away from me, she wanted to scream, but her chest felt heavy, the words barely formed on her tongue. The harder she tried to mentally pry the words from her tongue and through her wet lips, the more lightheaded she began to feel.

That’s when she felt it, the toughness of his stubble prickling against the inside of her thigh. He was kissing her, she could feel. Planting rough, messy kiss on her bare, exposed thigh, one after another.

Her stomach began to twist and knot the closer he got to her slit.

Fuck you, she spat telepathically to the body that betrayed her. Fuck you fuck you fuck you.

I can curse you all…all...

She could feel His coarse mouth over her pussy, his tongue gliding along her cream-coated slit, itself prickly. A couple day’s growth. Short hairs. She could feel her cheeks burn for some reason. She normally shaved, she just didn’t get around to it.

She slammed her fist on the edge of the bed in frustration. She felt like a child, like a fool child, but it was all that came out of her in that moment – that, and a Harumph!

From behind her, she could hear him laugh. It was mirthless, as if he was thinking something she couldn’t decipher. She pictured him from between her legs, lips spread in that laugh, her own juices running down his chin.

Like a child, she thought. Like a greedy fucking child that’s bitten into a plump piece of fruit.

“Yeah, fuck you.”

Her heart leapt in her chest as she realised that, this time, she had spoken her thought out loud.

Or had the words finally dislodged from her throat? Had the pebble been knocked loose, letting the river flow normally?

All of a sudden she could feel the warmth of his cheeks leave her thighs. He was moving behind her, she could tell, because the bed shifted underneath her, swaying back and forth, like she was on a ship – a hogtied lass left out on deck for the pirate crew.

Wait, where the fuck had that thought come from?

She felt him tug her backwards, shifting her legs lower a little as he no doubt pulled her closer.

Now my’s chance. Now I can..

She wriggled her foot free of his grasp.

Yes!!

Feeling it sway in the air, she jabbed it backwards blindly, trying to knock him off.

It crashed into contact with something, causing him to roar in surprise.

“Oh you bitch! You fucking bitch!”

Gotta use this moment to break free…

She swung around so that she was on her back now, her other leg finally free.

He was ready for her, his hands – like vipers – coiling around her right leg.

“Come. Here.”

Her heart was working overdrive in her chest, thumping in her ears.

Behind this, lingered a stranger feeling. Excitement? Exhilaration? What was this?

Like a viper herself, she lashed out her free leg, hoping to smack him right between those pecks of his, but he caught it.

He had her again.

Panic kicked in, swirling in her veins. All of her training and he fucking had her. How had this happened?

How had this –

Heat. Searing, intense heat.

Burning her cheeks, flooding her head, her mind. Her skin prickled with heat, zigg-zagging down her chest and arms quickly, leaving goosebumps in her wake.

A wheeze came out of her parted wet lips, a string of saliva stretching from upper lip to bottom lip as the guttural noise came clawing its way up her throat.

He was inside of her, he had plunged deep inside of her pussy – parting her Judas lips and filling her to the brim. Or what felt like to the brim.

Fucking Christ, when was the last time she was filled like this? No, when was the last time she had felt FULL like this. This sickening, giddy fucking full feeling. The one she could feel but never explain, not to her mind or to her journal. She just felt…full!

And still with her fucking legs in the air, the rest of her on the bed, to the victor goes the spoils.

She could feel the ache in her legs, that tense horrible ache as he clutched her still but her mind was being assaulted just like her cunt. Before she could catch her breath, he was tearing out of her, her lips letting go of his cock, before he slammed straight back into her again.

I could clutch the side of the bed.

I could pinch my nipples.

I could kick him in the dick when he pulls out.

I really want to reach down and claw at my clit.

Fuck! No! I need to think, I need to plan.

I want to come!

Stop it!

She felt his hands grip her sides, stretch her legs apart. She felt like she was going to snap like a twig and he was just using her like a toy, like a fucking whore.

She couldn’t even grind back into him!

No. She couldn’t even loosen his grip of her legs just a little bit so she could take her shot at him again, maybe wind him like he had winded her.

“Keep. Your. Legs. Still.” He hissed at her.

She liked to think of him struggling to hold her constantly squirming legs as he wrangled them still. How was his face? Was it even darker before, if such a thing were possible? Her hair was in her eyes and her arms were like lead so she couldn’t wipe her vision free. She could feel the tangle of her hair, at the corner of her mouth, itching at her lips, but she just couldn’t move.

Tender. Her pussy was already growing tender at his constant barrage, his total destruction of her body. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had destroyed her pussy like this, fast and hard and urgent, like each thrust was necessary for survival.

With a hiss from him, her body shuddered as she felt his cock plunge deep into her, sending pinpricks of electricity down her sweat-slicked body.

“Uuunnghhhh.” He grunted with one final thrust, leaving his cock buried within her as he moved up across her body, between her parted legs, which fell down around his back in submission. Her own body, giving in and giving up.

She felt it then. The soft planted kiss on her stomach. Then another, above. Wet kisses. Sloppy kisses. Hurried, passionate kisses but still somehow appealing, arousing, stimulating.

She felt the wet kisses grow closer to her tits, her nipples achingly hard in anticipation, longing for his mouth on them but at the same time, cursing him, wishing him away into some pit of eternal darkness where he can’t keep his hold on her. He needed – no, SHE needs – to break this link, this connectivity between them because the moment his lips slip over her nipple, the moment his tongue swirls against her eager flesh, she knows, somehow and someway, she would not only lose herself but all semblance of self.

The restraint she had been clinging to, the one that lashed out at him, would be shattered and she would give in, utterly, to that pleasure.

And would that be such a bad thing? A voice spoke up in the back of her mind, smooth like velvet.

Would that be so bad, to fall into delicious decadence?

She found herself trembling, body breaking out into sweats, as she felt his kisses grow nearer to her breasts.

The voice in the back of her mind seemed nearer as well, louder.

Is this version of you such a terrible thing? How do you know? Why don’t you try it?

Silky voice, dangerous voice. Stay away. Stay away from me.

“No.” She spoke softly, barely a whisper.

His lips brushed the curve of her left breast. Her body quivered underneath his touch, heart racing on overdrive.

“No!” She repeated, louder this time. “Don’t.”

She could feel her body sinking into the bed, as if she would slip into the sheet itself and into a realm of deep blue nothingness. She could feel her mind splintering, cracks set to ripple across the very fabric that makes her exist.

“Don’t.”

His tongue hit her nipple, suckling it into her mouth, and she fell through the cracks of her world.

She could feel it. She could feel the nipple slip into his mouth, raw flesh grating ‘neath his teeth.

Some semblance of her, some fragment, wanted to be bitten, to be rendered useless by such a bite, but her mind was focused wholly on Him, on his mouth on her, on his cock that fit everything so snuggly deep within her.

She belonged to him, utterly, deep in that moment.

The Interview

Dear Lord, I can still see her in my mind, sprawled out on the chocolate leather couch of my home theatre. I can still picture her eyes, the lightest green I’ve ever seen, looking at me in a way that feels vaguely fox-like.

Freckles are splashed across her fair skin sporadically. Her hair – the faintest colour of orange – falls across her arms, drapes across her small breasts.

Her breasts…like Snow White, only her nipples are ruby coloured, hardening for me as they are.

And Dear Lord, I can still see her pubic hair. Do you know how torturing it is, this gift you’ve given? I can see her slit when I close my eyes, down to a single red hair.

I can see her pubic hair, like a slash of fire across her slit. When she shifts her legs, for a second I can see her arousal glisten underneath the soft lights.

I remember asking me something, leaning back on the couch, because I remember thinking that the scene reminds me of The Graduate, but I couldn’t tell you what words she spoke, only that her voice sounded silky smooth, with a playful edge.

Why did she come to my home? Why does she interview me in my home theatre, notepad once across her lap before she started to undress.

Why was so she patient, as the unseen man behind the curtain drew me away from the home Theater – to see to my meddling cat, to address a question to my meddling guests. Don’t they see that I have questions to answer to this lady myself?

I think what perplexes the most, as I ease my cock into this woman, is how much I wanted her.

God, has anything ever felt any better than when I ease into her tight, wet snatch? Has anything ever felt better on my ears, to hear her moan in time to my thrusts?

God…Satan…Angels…Devils…don’t watch me consume this woman, don’t watch me sink into her skin as we become one with one another.

Who am I kidding? I can’t look away. Not from the watchful lightest green eyes of this woman.

Why does she want me so bad? Why me? What do those green eyes see?

As much as my cock is driven by the feeling of her each time I split her lips apart and slide in, I’m driven by the sight of her – sinking into the couch, twisting her head to the left to let out a moan, her hair across her shoulders in tangles.

Who is this cruel mistress? Who are you and why are you here? I want to ask her, but I’m transfixed by her with each move, unable to tear myself from her in the confines of the home theatre.

The interview will continue another time.

In The Flesh, Part I

teen-girl-rope-bondage-14598-bdsm.jpg

 

Content Warning: This is a story about a kidnapping and being forced into sexual slavery. As such, it may hit too close to home for some readers. I apologise in advance if it does.

He watched her as she hung on the spot, sobbing behind the ball gag wedged in her mouth. Her dark brown hair, almost black, maybe even dyed black he thought, spread out in strands across her forehead, running down across her shoulders and across her frumpy maroon dress that fell over her body.
He had chained her there, arms spread apart across a wooden board, here in his garage. His stomach had tickled, part with chill, part with thrill, as he moved her across to his home, to his realm.

He never meant to grab her – Stephanie. In all honesty, when he moved into the estate, he had expected a quiet neighborhood torn from the scripts of a fifties sitcom.
That he met her at all was pure chance – she knocked on his door, all smiles – the postman had left her his mail on her doorstep while she was at work.
He smiled, offered a joke and thanks – and the next time they saw each other was by coincidence – when he was collecting mail, say, or when he came home from work at a time she happened to be coming home to.

She was married and with children, he found out, glimpsing a look at her one evening, hopping out of her car with her husband and their two small children, a wee boy and girl, following close behind. Not only that, he had seen them through the blinds of their livingroom. He saw them watching TV, laughing.

Each time he spotted Stephanie, interacted with Stephanie, he noticed more details about her – the way her lips seemed naturally ruby-esque – or how her eyes seemed dark brown one moment but violet the next.
How she spoke like something was on her mind but gave no room to talk of it, leaving him wondering if it was a part of his imagination.

No, he never meant to grab her — but something came over him, searing heat that prickled down his body to his cock.
She was out the front of her house and on the phone, pacing back and forth in a long maroon dress that swished along the concrete beneath her feet.
He had pulled into his driveway, killed the engine, and got out of the car.
Bits of conversation traveled across the road.
‘…. Would you think I had? Have you?’
If she saw him, she gave no sign – he crossed his yard, fumbled for the house key in his pockets.
‘Nah, I’m not a fan of..that.. The whole thing makes me laugh. I just don’t buy it.’
He had stopped with his key in the slot. What on earth was she on about?
‘Me? No. I’m not into that smut.’

Something in him snapped just hearing that.
He looked back at her pacing and felt something in the pit of his stomach.
Looking at her twist her face in disgust, he realized he was trembling.
He waited for her to finish the call, twisting the conversation over his head, something compelling him, awakening within him.
It all happened in a heartbeat, him crossing the distance between them, grabbing her around the neck, feeling his cock go hard as she choked audibly, spit wetting her lips.
Her legs flailed out beneath her, kicking dust across the concrete.
She tried to reach back across to him, to smack him, but she couldn’t find the strength.
Stephanie fell limp.

Why oh why was she wearing that frumpy dress? He thought, his mind back in the present as he stared at her wriggling on the spot.
He spat the words themselves at her as he closed the distance between them. His hand lashed out at her dress, seizing a handful near her chest and tearing it down.
Black buttons went skittering across the floor, clinking across the dirty concrete.
With the dress half torn and hanging around her stomach like a wilted flower, he took in the sight of her creamy pale flesh.
She was curvier than he expected, then he imagined. Her hips were shaped in, what was that actual reference? An hourglass? Was that it?
Pale stretch marks laced her stomach in thin slits across her stomach.
God, she was beautiful.
Stephanie’s eyes were wide with fury as drool seeped from her lips and slithered down across her neck. He could almost feel the heat on his skin from the way she was staring at him.
She was still in her bra and panties – plain black lace. They hugged her skin tightly, digging in.
She was yelling at him through the ball gag, but it came out as muffled to his ears.

“What you abhor is what I…adore, Stephanie.” He was speaking to her calmly.
His words only served to make her scream through her gag at him in pure rage now, the volume of her muffled cries rising.
Something curled up from the pit of his stomach and lit up his brain. He struck her across the face.
“Silence. You will listen to me.”
Angry eyes only turned to stare back at him. Not pleading, not fearful, only anger.
“I wish to educate you on some matters. In order to do that, I am going to have to…WE are going to have to break you down, Stephanie. Make you see.”
She flinched as he reached out and grabbed her bra between the cups and yanked it free. Her whole body lifted forward as he pulled, the hooks tearing undone and coming around her shoulders. Her large, full breasts spilled out of her bra.
In the silence, he took in the sight of them – her soft and light pink nipples, starting to rise from the coolness of his garage, her darkened areolas, the stretch marks across her breasts in pale thin, vertical slashes.
Slowly and silently, he looped the bra around her chained hands, helping her as she whimpered.

Keeping silent, he lowered himself to her knees before her. As he did so, she started to whimper loudly again, yelling unintelligibly through the gag.
He hung his head, sighed and then lashed out at her, striking her across the thighs.
“Behavior. Emotion. Perspective. You will see. You will relearn.”
He yanked down her panties, revealing her untamed bush, wrestling her legs still to slink them off her legs.
Getting back up on his legs, he tossed her panties aside.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Stephanie. Not yet anyway. Not anymore then I need to. I…have a book here, you see.”
He moved across to a desk tucked away in the corner where a creased, leather bound book was resting and picked it up, showing it to her.
“I want…to read you some erotica. Smut as you say. These are my favorites. These are what helped me. Now..”
He stepped towards her tear-soaked face.
“If you stay quiet, I won’t punish you. But if you try to yell or scream….”
He undid his belt and pulled it free of his jeans.
Stephanie’s wide eyes fell down at the sight of it.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to belt you.”
Stephanie shook her head and whimpered.
Fear.
He couldn’t help but grin as he moved across the room to grab a stool that was resting against the wall.
Her eyes watched him as he dragged it across the concrete to rest just before her chained, exposed body hanging in the air.
Sitting down slowly on the stool, feeling its rigidness against his ass, he set the dusty book in his lap and opened it to Chapter One.
“Let’s start with something relatively…light. A story about a woman who finds herself drawn to a mysterious being in the woods behind her new house.”
He began to read.

*

When the story was done, he rested the book in his lap. Stephanie was breathing heavily, her breasts rising and falling.
In the beginning of the story, her face was screwed up in contempt as she grunted and wailed. Partway through the story, though, she ceased her cries and hung her head, her body vibrating as she sobbed.
The sobs grew quiet towards the end and now, as he finished, she was still.
When he closed the book, she looked up, her eyes red raw.
“I want to ask you what you think.” He said. “So I’m going to remove your gag. I want you to take the time to relax. But if you scream or call out or even yell obscenities in my direction, the gag goes back on. Do I make myself clear?”
Stephanie nodded, her eyes glistening with tears.
Slowly, he rose to his feet and stepped towards her. He could feel his cock tenting in his pants. He reached out with his hand and pulled the drool-soaked gag from her mouth.
Instantly, Stephanie’s face twisted into a snarl. She lunged at him, her mouth drawn open and snapped at him in a bite.
He felt her teeth come down on his wrist, pain flared red-hot through his body as he withdrew his hand from her.
Compulsion flooded his mind.
He raised his hand that gripped his belt and —

He hesitated. Stephanie had her eyes clenched shut, trying to brace herself.
Watching her flinch, his hand relaxed. He exhaled, letting the moment of anger ooze out from his body.
“I told you not to do that, Stephanie.” He said, his voice hard and cold.
“Fuck you and fuck your sick little stories.” Stephanie seethed right back at him, her eyes burning.
She struggled against him as he plucked the gag from her chin and popped it back in her mouth, stifling a rising scream from her lips.
“Now, I’m going to punish you for that. I just wanted to still my hand and make sure you know: What I do, I measure in my mind.”
Stephanie’s head jutted out as she swore through the gag as she stared at him.
“Oh, you can think and speak freely – for now. We’ll rewire that thought process.”
He stepped behind her, to her bare and shapely ass.
He raised the hand clutching his belt and swung it down across her left ass cheek.
CRACK!
The sound reverberated all around them.
Stephanie whimpered through the gag, her legs trembling on the spot.
“Behavior.” He spoke in the following silence.
He swung the belt down across her right ass cheek.
CRACK!
Stephanie flinched, yelling something through the gag He couldn’t decipher.
Her inability to handle herself, to stay still and silent, sent a jolt of anger through his mind just as her muffled cries made his cock throb.
Maybe he needed to discipline himself further.
“Emotion.” He said, shaking the thought away for another time.
He raised the belt and struck her a third time, across her entire ass this time – right in the center.
CRACK!
Stephanie’s cries grew louder this time. Her drool hit the concrete below her with a loud, satisfying smacking sound.
“Perspective.”
He walked around to face her. Her eyes had a glimmer of that rage they had earlier.
“Behavior – We’ll identify what needs to be modified. Emotion, and this, it seems, is the most important one for you. There are negative emotions in you but that’s not all. I feel something else. Something deceptive. Something…defensive. Stephanie, that sort of emotional privacy will not be tolerated in any way, you understand. I…”
He searched for the words as she watched him, sobbing through her gag. Her dark hair was strewn around her face, her eyes growing red.
“…Want you to understand, and in saying that, I want to understand you. I want to train you. I’m going to remove your gag again. Do not bite me, do not curse at me, not if you want another lesson.”

Stephanie didn’t resist when he pried the gag from her mouth. She watched him closely as he slipped his fingers across her wet lips and plucked it out.
“You crazy fuck, I’ll-“
He swung the belt across her breasts.
CRACK!
A strangled cry came tumbling out of her lips, cutting off her words.
He watched her as she gathered her senses, panting heavily.
“My husband, he’ll-“
CRACK!
A sob sputtered across her lips.
“Please, I have children, they’ll-“
CRACK!
“Ffffuck!” Stephanie hissed out loud.
“What do…you want…with me?” She said between gulps of air.
“What three things did I mention to you?”
He was in her face, looking her straight in the eyes. Her eyes reflected a scared woman looking back at him.
“What?”
CRACK!
Splotches of red had began to show across her tits.
“This will get easier the more we practice.” He said, his voice coming out a little harder then he intended.
“Uh…um…B-b-Behavior?”
“Yes. And?”
He lifted his hand with the belt in the air.
Stephanie moaned at the sight of it, the sound trembling off her lips.
Was that a moan of nervous energy or something else?
“Emmm…E-e-motion.”
“What else?”
“P-pppp-perspective.”
He lowered the belt. “Yes. Good. You did well.”
He paused, before adding.
“This isn’t going to be easy. Our minds, they run by logic that we build our life around and even hide from. You’re going to resist. That’s fine. But there will be no privacy for you. Not with me. So. What are you feeling?”
“I just want to go home. Please.”
“In time. Not just yet. There’s much to learn. What else do you feel?”
Stephanie’s eyes darted around the room, blinking out tears. She licked her lips.
“Scared. Scared and..weird.”
“Weird how?”
Stephanie wriggled her arms on the spot.
“I don’t know!”
He could sense something behind her frustration but he’d push her later.
“Alright. Are you hungry?”
“What?!” Her eyes grew wide as she met his gaze. Either she didn’t understand his question or she couldn’t believe it. Or both.
“Do you have an appetite for food? The hour grows late.”
Stephanie broke eye contact.
“Y-yes…”
He nodded, watching her closely. Her answer was genuine.
Why wouldn’t it be?
“I’m going to go away and cook something up. And then, when I’ve eaten, I’ll come back and feed you myself. Behave, and I’ll move you to my spare bedroom. You’ll have toilet privileges. But act up again? You can stay here this evening. In the dark. Do I make myself clear?”
Stephanie was frozen watching him. She didn’t seem to blink.
“Well?”
His voice seemed to break her out of a daze. She nodded vigorously. “Y-yes.”
He nodded, plucked the gag back into her mouth and left through a doorway behind them, leaving her bound and naked and waiting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Dark, Sadistic Fantasy Of Mine

As a dominant, there has always been this sadistic bone in my body, this underlying aspect to my personality that delights in sheer torture, in humiliation and degradation.

One of the hottest fantasies of mine – to me – is the idea of stalking this woman from her home, kidnapping her and taking her to something abandoned industrial complex where its cold and dank and dark – and training her day in and day out to become a behaved little sex doll.

The one thing that thrills me and tickles my bones is the psychological interaction between, say, myself and this unnamed pretty little thing. I have this idea in me that I can break down, essentially, who she is – who she’s developed into.

The tastes that she has, the life that she’s built, whether she is in a relationship or married – I can work to break all that down – because….at the end of the day, we all have this spot in the back of our minds that we leave locked up, that we’re afraid of. It could be related to anything – being rude, being mean, being a sexual deviant, wanting to speak our minds but knowing better.

And I want to break that down in her. I want to…picture this – that she’s completely naked, chained by her hands to stand upright panting, sweating, begging. Picture that there’s she has some fight in her, that she will fight back to hold on to some semblance of who she was while I whip her with my belt.

You see, I want to find her limit. We can decide whether to push that limit or extend it softly later – but for now, I want to find it so I can get her to tell me EVERY. SINGLE. LITTLE. DETAIL. That her morality is locking up in the depths of her mind, either consciously or subconsciously. I want to break her down, raw and roughly and coarse, until she’s a sensitive mess of a human being, because then we get to who she is and what she wants and why.

And when she’s broken down and trembling, when every inch of her body and mind is on fire from this physical and emotional assault, then I can teach her, train her. To be obedient, to be a loving, giving, adoring Slave. No matter how long it takes. I’ve got the patience.

Why? Because minds fascinate me. I want to break down barriers, find the messy heart. I want to study what makes them tick, what darkness they have within them, what they consider light. I want to set them free.

It’s a dark fantasy in my head, a giddy rush to my cock, igniting my senses, stimulating my mind.