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.

There Are No Words

At 4am this morning, I woke from a dream so incredibly detailed, with its own mythology and the like, that I scrambled for my phone and jotted down 1,372 tired words. I’ve read over it just now, having woken later in the morning, and have left it unedited and untouched, save for some spelling mistakes and sentences that didn’t make sense. What you will read is something I’ve written while not entirely awake, my hand pulled along by forces beyond this world.

I know some of you enjoy looking into the mind of the process or the writer or even ME, so I hope this intrigues you at the very least.

I can remember her taking my face in her hands, and looking at me with those deep blue eyes. My god, how deep and blue and expansive they are. How kind and thoughtful they are. Oceans. They are the sea.

I see her eyes flicker but before I can contemplate what that means, she’s leaning in to kiss me deeply.

Christ, her lips are so soft. They seem to sink right into my own lips. As if merging together.

I can feel my heart leap in my chest.

As she holds the kiss, as I hold the kiss, I suddenly see everything. I see her ass, lily white and gorgeous, I see her free of the shackles of her past life. I see her freedom. And it makes my heart pound in my chest.

When she pulls away, I feel like I know her more through that kiss. As if, through the act, a bond was created – and we fused.

She has to wipe the dark curl of hair from her eyes. Or I do.

I want to but I can’t look away from those deep, mesmerising eyes. I feel like I know her more now, know her better.

She kisses me again suddenly, deeper, harder. My stomach flips in excitement – or is that her excitement I feel, now that we are bonded. Now that my emotion is shared through the bond and hers is shared in my mind.

A sense of understanding. That’s what it is.

I can feel her soft hands on my face, cradling me, as if she wanted this for a while.

I want to tell her to be free, like I know she wants to be. There’s a side to her that I can sense. I want to scream it at her beautiful blue eyes, even as I wipe her dark curls out of her face.

Do what you want, what you must, for the freedom of your soul, for your health, but I know the truth. She senses it too now, my weirdness. My indulgence. I’m encroaching on something.

The other women around me don’t seem to mind our shared kiss. They wait patiently in silence, or do they observe? And if they observe, what do they see? Did I get it all wrong, terribly wrong? But that can’t be! She kissed me. I sense her. I sense her so strongly.

One by one hand, their hands lower me down to the cool metal table. How many women are there? Well, there’s the vampire – I know that. Blonde hair, ice blue eyes. There’s the girl in the hoody with the kind eyes. There’s the fiery redhead in the singlet with the rosy cheeks.

Somehow I know they’re actually all vampires. Except me and her. She who regards me with her deep blue eyes as big as the moon.

Does he know how lucky he is to have her?Where is he anyway?

As if on cue, he wanders into the small room, eyes ablaze. There’s fury.

In a heartbeat, before he can see, she tears her hands away from mine – somewhere along my counting of how many women there are around me, she took my hands in hers.

I didn’t even finish counting anyway. There’s more than three. They’re all gathered around me in a circle, her included.

I can feel her through the bond, I can tell she wants to undress and be naked. I can tell that’s how she likes to be. It comes in a flash in my mind, and I can see her walking along her natural habitat – a forest – completely nude, grass crunching beneath her feet.

“For a little extra you can become a vampire.” A woman at the end of the table says. She’s looking at me with tired eyes that seem to sag in their sockets. She’s dressed all in black, even with a black robe. The tattooist.

I shake my head. “No, thank you, just the tattoo. Like hers.”

I point to the woman with the kind eyes. She’s watching me closely, a smile across her ruby red lips. Out of all the women that have taken up residence in my home since my partner left, this one has spent the most time talking to me.

On her chest, above her breasts, she has a tattoo of a symbol that’s foreign to me. I couldn’t begin to describe it. I only know I want it on my chest.

And it just so happens one of the women in this wonderful, warm tribe, is an artist of the tattooing kind.

When did I get so lucky, to have this support from all these beautiful women around me? All these endlessly kind beings? I’d tip my hat if I wore one. I’m afraid the only thing I wear is my heart on my sleeve ever since she left me. Five years gone and cheated on me the past few months for some bloke with dark features, same as me. What did I have that he didn’t? Why did that draw the attention of a tribe of men and women into my home and why do they support me endlessly in this relationship breakdown?

May the party live forever.

I know she senses my thoughts because she frowns to herself. That or it’s because he’s circling her, his eyes on her as he joins her to her right, where he perches like a bird or a ghost or a bodyguard. I can’t decide which. I’m sure he didn’t think about this possibility when he, too, came into my home. I certainly didn’t expect to spark her interest. I’m not even sure she would talk to me if I didn’t talk to her first. The only thing I know about her is that she’s not a vampire like the others and that her wonderful eyes are as big as the moon.

Do I regret the kiss? I’m not sure, to be entirely honest. My heart and mind and very soul still rages at the recent betrayal of my ex. I mean, after she came clean about the affair, she still wanted to suckle on my cock while the others finger fucked her into a delirious state.

We all knew she did it to pass the time – her family was picking her up, her bags were packed – but we still did this. We all did this.

So there’s rage behind my willingness, that I’ll admit, but when she placed my face in her hands and kissed me that first time, I wasn’t just hypnotised, I was mesmerised. Because I could feel her thoughts. I could sense that she wanted to silence my pain as much she wanted to silence hers.

Does that make me a bad person?

There’s no fear in me when the women hold my legs down and apart. I trust these new friends of mine. They did offer me vampirism after all. They even wanted to charge me! But no, this was about the tattoo. The tattoo that would mark my pain and hurt forever, the tattoo that would bond me to these traveling nomads, friends for life.

Some of them, like her, had boyfriends. They were grouped in one room of the house watching tv and drinking. Eventually they would retire to their rooms and sleep, snoring softly.

The circle of women talk amongst themselves. Some of them banter. It makes me smile. They must’ve been traveling together for so long they’ve made friendships for life. Is this what this tattoo is? Am I part of the tribe?

I feel her soft hand on my arm and meet her eyes. There’s something else there now. A wound of sorts flickers behind her eyes. But who would wound the moon? Who?

Despite this, it’s a shy smile she gives me and it makes my heart race. I close my eyes and feel her warmth rising through the bond. It makes me smile too.

Pent Up

Being at my folks for Christmas is a beautiful thing I’ll cherish forever, but being isolated in rural countryside is tapping into my animalistic spirit. I want to run, I need to run. It’s clawing at me. And I can’t help but claw at my kitten, only for her to behave, out of respect for my family and our thin walls around the bedroom we are staying in.

I’m looking forward to getting back to my own house and claiming my lady so hard to make up for all the lost time. I need to mark my territory, shoot my load all over till I’m spent. I can’t stand looking into her eyes, which flicker with submission, and being unable to take her.

Those big, beautiful blue eyes as she looks up at me. I know she feels it. I can sense that in her. I hope I make her as soaked at times as she makes me achingly hard.

The thing is, something stops me – from masturbating in the shower, from taking her. Is she daring me? Is she teasing me? Does she secretly want me to take control? I feel I know her tones by now but sometimes the animal in me wonders.

God, if it wasn’t so crowded, I would tear off my clothes and go running through the acres of land my parents have, panting, sweating, clawing, seething, growling. I want to peel those clothes off till I see your bare, pale ass, till I see the animal hidden underneath – the animal no one else knows. I want to lay you down on the grass and inhale your scent till the presence of me before your sensitive pussy lips can’t handle it anymore and starts to soak, starts to drip. I want to break through sense and reason and reality and take us beyond this world and into something and somewhere else. Ascension? An alternate reality? Take me, O take me fucking there, please gods and goddesses of the wild. I pledge to you my heart and mind and cock and body. I want to slide right into her without warning, to hear her gasp and squeak. To fill her like she hasn’t been filled before.

But. That will come. Time to wear my mask and be in plain sight hiding.

Waking From A Dream: On Becoming Dominant

Learning that I was dominant didn’t happen overnight, it happened over years – through dreams, moments in relationships and through interactions where a need for protocol or discipline or control would spill out into my conscious mind.

It’s hard to describe it and it’s even harder to write about it. Towards the end of an entirely vanilla relationship, in which I buried any interests in BDSM because I tried to put aside what I wanted for what I believed was love and the betterment of the relationship, it started to gnaw at me till there were cracks in my existence, till that dominant persona came clawing out of me, growling and seething and ravenous. I truly felt like I was mad, being torn between two worlds. I felt insane.

My biggest test was accepting that all these desires and dark sexual interests and everything remotely kinky was who I am. I had to sit with my thoughts and my desires and accept that this was my mind and that there was nothing at all wrong with that.

I had to reboot my mind. I had to trust my gut instinct. But more importantly, I had to learn how to differentiate between what I truly feel and what is irrational. Being primal helped me, I feel. I learned to sit with my feelings, let them slow cook. In time, what was false would fade and what was real lingered. I could just tell the difference somehow.

And learning this about myself felt like waking from a long slumber. Like I was waking from a dream. I felt giddy and liberated.

It’s such a crazy situation – because I hear of people, I know of people, that have their own reasons to deny their innermost thoughts and feelings for a life of comfort but who am I to tell them differently? Everybody moves at their own pace. Saying it’s not easy to take that plunge is an understatement. It’s fucking terrifying. I was paralysed with fear. I don’t even know why I did it. Only that I needed a push. But you can’t interfere with lives. You can only offer support.

If you’re like me, if you are feeling trapped or like you’re waking up to your dominant or submissive side, don’t be scared of your inner voice. Take baby steps in listening to it.

It takes time but you can learn to listen to all thoughts so that you can differentiate between irrational thoughts and the things you really want, your true desire. Don’t confuse one for the other, that’s the tricky part, but in time you will know in the pit of your gut what is right and what has been fear.

Remember this – what you want isn’t invalid. You’re not a freak or insane or crazy for your interests in kink or wanting to become submissive or dominant. Try not to run from that because you’ll either create a false, yet comfortable reality or it’ll become stronger the more you deny it.

Learning to be at ease with that part of myself has been one of the hardest challenges of my life. I had to come to grips with my insecurity, my anxiety and my low self-esteem to be able to embrace that side of myself. It wasn’t easy, some days I still struggle, but I’ve been able to challenge my perceptions on not only my life but my views on religion and life and society and relationships.

In The Flesh, Part I

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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.

Torment

A pretty little thing lay bound to the bed, chains linked across her bare body.

Her auburn hair had fallen across her furrowed brow, strands reaching down to mask her eyes.

The muscles in her neck clenched tight as her stomach reached up to meet the cool kiss of the chains around her breasts, pockets of ice biting at her nipples.

He hovered above her, a leg on each side of her, his thick and uncut cock fully hard as it frames shadows across her belly button.

His cock bobs in the air – in truth, he uses what muscles he has to hold tight. He feels the pleasure swirling from the pit of his stomach down to his shaft, reaching its own tendril to skim underneath his testicles.

Pre-come glistens the tip of his cock. He knows this, is aware of this. He uses this to his advantage, letting a strand run down his shaft and across the length of his testicles to drop across her chained stomach.

She murmurs in frustration, a strangled sound somewhere between a beg and a fierce cry. He may be aware of how Come is dripping in a sequence of dots traveling upwards to her breasts but the one thing He isn’t aware of is how badly she craves to taste him.

Her thirst is ridiculous, unquenchable. In this moment, bound and at the mercy of Him, she truly believes that if she can’t taste him, just a drop even, she will descend into madness.

In a heartbeat it terrifies her, this longing. An image comes fully formed to her, an animal writhing and growling and howling, it’s throat raw, spittle bubbling on its lips, pupils large. It’s body vibrating with desperation. Somehow she understands that she will become the animal if she doesn’t own up to her own feelings, if she cannot accept what she wants and the ferocity of how badly she wants it.

She can feel his come smack against her flesh, can lift her head just enough so that she can see his Cock bobbing in the air, a drop beading on its head, but not His face. She imagines his smile – and her thirst for him grows.