30 September 2007
TAKING POSSESSION~ HOW STRONG IS THIS SLAVE’S DEVOTION?
Posted by admin under: Stories .
How far will this slave go to prove his devotion to his Mistress? Read as she uses CBT to see just what he will do to prove it.
She sat in the straight backed armed chair, her bare breasts raised and presented by the half-cups of her black leather corset, her legs spread wide as if to aim the power of her womanhood directly at her new slave. She could sense the energy of her female essence flowing towards him, ripple over him as the wild ruffles a field of grain.
Strong, tall, and beautiful, with skin the pale gold of sand, he stood before her trembling slightly, his gaze unable to meet her eyes for fear of her disapproval. She wonder just what he had done that he was so ashamed of. His eyes remained fixed on the elegant Persian rug beneath his feet as if he were examining the pattern in search of some clue as to how to escape punishment.
It was not that what he had done was so horrible in itself, but rather that he simply could not be allowed to get away with it. Nicholas was quite knew to the art of submission. Permitting him too much leeway this early in the relationship was bound to set a bad precedent. He had not yet grasped the concept that becoming her slave meant that he was hers, absolutely and completely hers. Every inch of him was her personal possession, belonging to her alone. She > had the right to do with it as she would. He didn’t.
Enough of this, she thought. It was amusing to watch him squirm, but time was swiftly passing and it was apparent a punishment was due.
“Look at me!” she ordered.
She felt his eyes move up her black-stockinged legs, over her belly, across her breasts until they locked onto her gaze. There he stood transfixed in her headlights, as hypnotized as some unfortunate creature crossing the road at the wrong time.
“Undress.”
Slowly he began to unbutton his shirt. Fine, golden body hair gradually emerged from between edges of blue cotton.
“Faster!”
His fingers snatched at the buttons, missing the last one, ripping it from its place as he threw off his shirt. His fingers fumbled with the buckle of the belt. She made no move to help him, but instead tapped the tip of her crop rapidly on the leg of her chair as she waited impatiently. From the quiver in her fingers, she knew he’d understood her action for the threat it was.
His penis bulged heavily against his skin tight sky blue jeans, making it harder for him to lower the zipper, especially since his hands were slippery with perspiration. When he finally had it open, his penis was poking through the front hole of his tight white cotton under pants.
He was a bold one, this new slave. He quaked, yes, but from excitement, not in fear. Though his eyes were downcast, his stance was firm, feet well planted. The intrepid voyager, seeking the adventure of body and soul, he might fear her displeasure, but he did not fear her crop. The intensity of his erection, so turgid the veins stood out like small snakes, told her this quite plainly.
She had no wish to destroy that bravery, to break him as a man, only to force that courage into true submission, to make it work with the relationship rather than against it. This was something she knew well how to do and she intended now to do it.
“Is that an erections I see?” she demanded?
“Yes, Miss,” he answered quietly, his face bright red, his hands making a futile attempt to cover his shame far too late.
“Then you had better come here.”
When he was within her reach, she grabbed the shaft with her long, digging her long red nails into the skin. He grimaced and a faint emanated from his throat.
“Whose penis is this?”
“Yours, Miss.”
“Does it have any business being hard without permission?”
“No, Miss.”
With her other hand she squeezed his scrotum.
“Whose balls are these?”
“Yours, Miss.”
“They do not seem full enough. Obviously you have been masturbating without permission.”
“No, Miss.”
She gave a small twist. “Don’t lie to me.”
“No, Miss,” he screamed. “I’m sorry, Miss. Last week. I could not help myself.”
She released the scrotum. “You masturbated and you lied. Can you even imagine the punishment for that?”
“No, Miss.”
But the widening his eyes told her he could.
“Get the crop from beneath my chair.”
“Please, Miss.”
Please, Miss, what, she wondered. Please don’t whip me or please do?
She watched him walk towards the chair to fetch it. He but twitched, in expectation of the sting no doubt. He had already felt it twice today and his bottom still bore some beautiful red welts. With incredible grace for one about to be beaten, he reached beneath her chair and brought forth a long leather crop. He knelt before her and presented it.
“Stand.” He rose to his feet, shuddering. She could see the muscles in his shoulders tense in anticipation of what she might do to him next.
“Let’s eliminate that erection. Hold it up.”
His eyes grew big with surprise. He had expected to get it on the bare ass again. Obviously, he never expected his penis to get a whipping. He truly did have a lot to learn, this new slave of hers.
Yet he obeyed. Without hesitation, holding the stiff member at the base so that it stayed in place as she whipped his penis from base to head on the underside, ignoring his yelps and cries.
“Pull back the foreskin.” He had an especially long foreskin that partially covered the head of his penis even when it was erect. She knew from their sex play the part of his penis beneath it was particularly sensitive. He had come with just a flick of her tongue to that location in one of their earlier sessions.
“Oh, please, Miss.” His pleas were heart wrenching, yet he offered the bare head of his penis as if he hadn’t even at hint of a thought to disobey.
Ten good strokes to the wet, swollen head and the erection was thoroughly cured. His hand reached to comfort his stinging organ and jerked it away.
Again she reached out to squeeze his scrotum. “Whose balls are these?”
“Yours, Miss.”
“What condition should they be in?”
“Full, Miss.”
“How full?”
“Completely full, Miss.”
“Turn around. Spread them. Hands on the coffee table. Spread them, damn you, or I’ll tie your ankles to the broom handle.”
His testicles were presented to her like an offering, one that she was eager to accept. She applied the crop to them liberally as she whipped is lovely pale ass a shade of crimson only seen in roses. They bounced like tennis balls under the force of her blows.
He was crying out loud now and though part of her felt sympathy, she steeled herself to his sobs. He had to be taught a lesson now, one he would never forget, if he was to be a slave to her or any other Mistress in the future. “Stand up. Turn around. Keep your legs spread. Wider.”
He obeyed her at once, not even bothering to wipe his tears. He planted his feet firmly as if in a parade rest position. Was he challenging her? Saying she could make him cry, but that she could not break his spirit?
However, breaking his spirit was the last thing on her mind. A slave with a broken spirit was no fun at all to dominate. But he would know the meaning of submission when she had finished with him and she would not rest until he did.
Again she clutched the shaft of his penis in deep red talons. “And whose penis is this,” she said, stroking his penis.
“Oh, Miss, that hurts!”
“Whose penis is this?”
“Yours, Miss.”
“If I want to stroke it, I will. If I want it hard, it will be. If I want it to come, it will.”
With this she rubbed vigorously, being sure that the raw welts on his tender flesh were stroked hard. His cock grew long and hard in her hand. She used no lubrication and she knew his sore flesh must burn, but still he thrusted eagerly against the firm palm of her hand. “Oh, Miss. Oh!”
She eased the pressure, began to caress him erotically, making a tunnel of her fist for him to lunge inside as he pushed his hips back and forth. Jewels of sweat formed on his upper lip. His thighs began to quake. Orgasm was imminent.
She stopped. She dug her nails into the glans. The sound somewhere between a groan and a scream game from deep inside his chest.
“Whose penis is this?”
“Yours, Miss. Uh! Yours. It’s yours. Oh, god, oh Jesus, Miss, please.”
“Please what?”
“Please, please, let me come, Miss. Please!”
“Not a chance in hell, boy. Not a single chance in hell. You’ve had all the coming you are going to get for a damned long time.”
“Oh, please, Miss, I couldn’t help it.”
“Yes, well we will be taking care of that later. For now you are getting a lesson in self control.”
“Yes, Miss.”
“Now, how full should your scrotum be?”
“Completely full, Miss.”
“What? Still the wrong answer? Very well, we start again. Hold up your penis, foreskin pulled back.”
“Oh, Miss, no more, please!” But even as he said the words, he obeyed, peeling back the foreskin to expose the entire head instead of just the portion exposed by the erection. Still, on the chance she had truly been too much for him, she offered him an out.
“Do you wish to use your safeword?”
“No, Miss. I’ll take what you hand out. I only…I’m so sorry that I disobeyed you. I wish you weren’t so angry with me.”
“I am not angry, slave. I would never whip you in anger. But you have no sense of discipline and very little self control. You must know that your penis and testicles belong to me and only me. They are no longer your own. You must learn these things if you wish to serve me or you must leave and find another to serve–if she will have you.”
“Understood, Miss.”
“So, what will you have, then? Will you continue or seek another.”
“I could want only you, Miss.”
“Such as I thought. Now present me your penis, foreskin peeled back.”
This time she whipped his cock until no millimeter of the surface remain unscathed. She caused him to point it up so she could whip the underside. His shrieks pierced her heart, but still she continued, despite her own urge to show him mercy. When she had finish, tiny flecks of blood had begun to appear beneath the surface of his skin.
Tears poured down his cheeks, but he did not falter, standing steadfastly in place to accept the worst she had to offer.
She knelt and gently removed his hands from his cock. Taking it softly in her fingers, she examined it closely. The skin was as raw as a skinned cucumber, but there was no actual damage. She weighed the scrotum in the palm of her hand. Fuller, but not nearly full enough to suit her.
In consideration of his sore cock, she went to a nearby drawer and removed a tube of lubricant. She squeezed a huge dollop into each palm and returned to her slave. She carefully slathered the cooling gel over his irritated penis. Though he winced at first, within moments it began to swell once again.
He moaned softly and she knew he was again approaching orgasm, an orgasm she could not allow him to have. She delicately manipulated the foreskin, causing his breath to become short and rapid. For the second time orgasm was imminent. She stopped.
“No!” he cried out. For a tenth of a second his own hand reached for his shaft, but she slapped it away.
“Hands on top of your head. Now. March to that corner.’ She grabbed her crop and gave him a spank each step of the way.
“Touch your penis once and we start all over again, is that clear?”
He stood crying softly and did not answer. She gave him ten sharp licks to the back of the thighs until he cried out.
“I said, ‘Is that clear?’ “
“Yes, Miss.”
“Very well then. You just stay there awhile until that wicked erection subsides.”
She let him cool his need to come in the corner for nearly an hour, knowing that the soreness of his welts would do their work. He wept softly, sniffing now and then, a reaction she had seen before. The path to submission was not an easy one. The emotional rocks in the road were far more obstructive than the physical ones. For a man like Nickolas, the sudden realization of helplessness could be a damned big bump.
Yet he did not have to take it. He was not bound and even if he were, a simple word from him would buy his escape. He accepted her punishment of his own free will, motivated only by his devotion. This devotion touched her, but confirmed her resolve as well.
When his erection had subsided completely, she went to the bathroom for a washcloth and cleaned his face. He rubbed his cheek against the edge of her hand like a tom cat begging to be petted. She stroked his hair softly for a moment, then gave it a little tug to let him know that affection was dispensed at her discretion, not his.
She reached between his legs and weighed his balls again. They were much fuller, but not yet full enough to suit her. Obviously her work was far from done here.
She took his hand and lead him from the corner to her wide and well stuffed sofa. She guided him across her lap easily. He offered no resistance at all. She began to spank him slowly and carefully with just the palm of hand, just hard enough to create a sensual, arousing sting. This was not difficult to achieve since his bottom was already very sore. Her slaps to the backs of his thighs elicited deep throated moans of arousal. Soon his penis was stiff once again. She repositioned him to tuck it between her legs, holding it tightly in place with her thighs. She continued the spanking as he humped her thighs with each blow, in tune to her rhythm, a slow, soft grind of his hips against her body.
They continued in this manner for some time. Eventually she noted that his buttocks began to clench, his breath become more rapid. He broke stride with her strokes and began humping her thigh in earnest.
“Stop that! What is the matter with you?”
She whacked at his butt hard now, furious at his lack of self control. She squeezed his penis hard with her thighs, clamped down tight until he arched his back in agony. She reached below the sofa cushion and pulled out a small paddled, the one she kept handy just in case of incidents such as this, and whipped his ass but good until he hollered and the tears flowed down his cheeks yet again.
“Did I tell you you could use my thighs to get off?”
“No, Miss, no. Oh, please! God, it hurts so bad. I swear I’ll be good for you. I swear. Please, oh God.!”
She released his suffering cock and let his body tumble to the Persian carpet below.
“Stand up.”
He struggled to his feet. Tearstained and aching, still he stood straight for her, as if each beating, each painful act only made him stronger in his resolve to serve her. She could > not help but feel a surge of pride as she watched him.
Again she reached for his testicles and felt them. “Ugh!”
“Something wrong, slave?”
“They hurt, Miss. They hurt so bad.”
“Ah, perhaps you will be able to answer the question correctly now. What condition should your testicles be in?”
“Busting, Miss. So full they hurt.”
“Excellent. When may they be empty?”
“When you say so, Miss. Only at your command.’
“Very, very good. Now, my slave, since you did masturbate without permission, what is the proper punishment for that? Hmmm? What do you think.”
“I couldn’t know, Miss.”
“Really? Hmm, let’s think a moment. Do you think you will masturbate again?”
“I would try not to, Miss.”
“ ‘Try’. You see, that’s the operative word. Try. I need to be sure that you won’t.”
“Oh, I won’t, Miss.”
“Yes, but you promised that before, didn’t you, dear?”
“Yes, Miss.”
“You didn’t keep that promise, did you?”
“No, Miss.”
“And why was that?”
“It was too hard, Miss. I couldn’t help myself?”
“And with your balls so full, wouldn’t it be even harder now?”
“I suppose it would, Miss.” He looked down for a bit, as if examining his own toes. When he spoke again, is voice was quiet, but his tone was filled with resolve.
“Will you help me, Miss, please? Will you help me keep my promise?”
Elation flooded her.
“Yes, my slave, my dear slave. I will help you.”
She went to the play room and brought out a large, black wooden box, polished until it shone like obsidian. She invited her slave to sit beside her and slowly lifted the lid. Inside lay an alcohol lamp, cotton balls, a bottle of alcohol, a slim gold chain, a tiny padlock, five tiny cold rings, and two very sharp surgical needles.
“You must be very brave now, my love, my sweet, sweet slave. Bravery than you have been throughout your ordeal today. I am going to help you, but to help you, I must pierce your foreskin. Repeatedly. I ask you now, knowing what will come, do you still wish me to help you?”
His tongue slid from between his lips as he contemplated. She could see him wondering how much it would hurt. Could he bare the pain, then his decision to do it. For her.
“Yes, Miss. I want you to help me. Please.”
“Shall I bind you? If you move or reach out to touch, you may be injured.”
She set up the alcohol lamp and lit it. She placed the five gold rings in a small saucer of alcohol. Then she cleansed his foreskin inside and out with the alcohol on the cotton balls. The sting of the alcohol on his welted penis brought tears to his eyes, but he held still. Carefully, meticulously, she sterilized one needle first with alcohol and then in the flame of the lamp.
“Hold tight to the sofa cushion. This will hurt a great deal.”
His hands edges of the cushion beneath him. She hoped she had not made a mistake in not binding him. She lifted the foreskin and just a short way from the tip, pierced the skin from the inside.
He groaned. His hands crushed the edges of the cushion as the wave of searing pain moved through his body, but he held still. Immediately, she put a gold ring into the hole it had left. She continued around the circumference of the foreskin, putting a ring into each hole as she created it. Huge tears rolled down his cheeks and he bit his lower lip until tiny drops of blood appeared at the edges, but he kept still, his fingers digging into the sofa cushion as if he clung to a cliff for dear life.
When she had finished the piercing, she threaded the gold chain through the rings and pulled it until the foreskin closed up over the tip of the penis, leaving only a tiny hole to urinate through. She again wiped the entire area with alcohol. It was all he could stand. He threw himself onto the sofa, sobbing.
She slipped out of her own clothing and snuggled onto the sofa beside him, letting him use her breasts as his pillow as he released the pain and frustration of his long day’s trial.
“There, there, my darling. My sweet. My adorable one. It’s all over for now.”
“It hurts so much, Miss.”
“Shsh. I know. I have seen this done before. You will be all right.”
“You have seen it done? You have not done this before?”
“I have not wanted to. I bought this kit only for you. I have never had a slave I have ever wanted to own completely. And now I do.”
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