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Prologue - Domina
I have no notion of how long I have remained there. The time was immeasurable. I have no way of keeping track of the hours or minutes. I doubt that there was any window to the outside world where I am, but even if there were, it would do me no good as my eye sight is completely kept from me. Perhaps instead of what I do not, I should begin with what I do know.
I know the state that I am currently being kept in, and it is an unpleasant one at best. I am on my knees, something that has become painfully apparent over the course of this trial. Other then the various restraints that hold me, I have been stripped completely. My eyes are shielded by a leather strap around my head and two circular, padded pieces of leather effectively blindfolding me completely. A rubber ball fills my mouth to the brim, with yet another leather strap holding it in place. I know there is a hole drilled through the middle with a tube forced into it. Much to my dismay the tube has been forced down my throat to a destination I can only guess at. Any noise I make is reduced to a mere mumble, as well as grind on my throat, and I’m forced to drool on myself uncontrollably. My arms are encased in a leather sleeve that holds them behind my back tightly, forcing them together all the way up to my shoulders. The agony is compounded by the fact that a chain at the end of this sleeve wrenches them into the air and threatens to pull them straight out of their sockets. As a result I am doubled over with my face to the cold, cement floor. I would be able to lift my head slightly, to what avail I don’t know, save for the fact that a thick leather collar encircles my throat completely. It holds me rigidly preventing any movement of my neck at all and a short chain from the front hooked into the floor keeping my face practically pressed against it. My knees are kept apart by leather straps that encircle each one. I can distinctly feel the presence of a bar between them, forcing them open and chains from either side also hook into the floor, preventing me from shifting my position at all. More leather cuffs encase my ankles and are similarly affixed to one another via a bar and then to the floor.
I can tell from the cold air on my body that every inch of hair has been shaved off save for the closely cropped hair on my head. Of all my predicaments it is the strangest, but least upsetting. The final bit of restraint is simply confusing to say the least. I can feel uncomfortable metal conforming around my dick, holding it prisoner and bending it down sharply. Not that I have any desire to, but I get the distinct feeling that any attempt at getting an erection would be met with pain instead. As well, I can feel the slight burning sensation of a catheter inside of me. Where it drains to, I have no idea, but the need to alleviate myself has obviously been taken care of.
I can guess that I’ve been here for at least hours, if not more by the fact that my stomach growls with hunger and my throat is parched. I try to shift slightly in my restraints, but it is next to impossible. Every inch of me is both in anguish and stiff. I’m desperate to move, even just an inch. At the same time, though, I know that any such movement is likely to result in even more agony given how long I have remained motionless.
The first sound that catches my ear is that of an opening door. It’s heavy, wooden or metal, and creeks slightly as it does. The next sound is the obvious noise of heals on the cold stony floor. They are light, but firm enough to give an authoritative presence as soon as they can be heard. This must be my captor, I muse to myself as I await whatever is coming. Then I hear it…
Her voice is soft, feminine and alluring but it betrays no sense of compassion. It is stern, but not overtly abusive. It is intended to immediately show me who is boss, but at the same time compels me to want her to give such commands. At first a foot simply slides beneath my face and I can feel the leather of her boot under my mouth. I feel hands at the back of my neck and a click of a lock. The ball is pulled from my mouth along with the tube, which results in a gagging sensation and I nearly vomit. I stretch my jaw for a moment or two. Just before I have the moment to speak, her commanding tone overtakes me, “Lick… slave.”
It is very obvious that I am the slave in question, though I’m not sure when my status changed. I also have seen enough erotica in my day to know what she means by lick. There is a part of me that desires to resist, disobeying her commands and defying her to the core. That is however unlikely to result in anything but agony. Instead the small part of me that wants to attempt to be resilient to the bitter end is put down by the more rational side of me. My tongue probes out of my mouth and begins to lap at the toe of her boot diligently. A part of me cannot stomach the utter submission I have demonstrated nearly instantly, but a second part of me stirs at it slightly. Strangely enough I feel the slightest twitch between my legs. Is it possible I desire to be dominated so strongly that any assertive woman could have commanded me to do this at any point in my life? It seems doubtful, but here I am, hands and knees, bound tightly and licking her boot without question. I admit, there isn’t much protest I could put forth, but at least a little resistance might be in order?
For what seems like eons she allows me to debase myself, lapping at her leather clad foot meticulously, as if assigned the task by God. After several moments, the boot pulls away from my face and I let out my first sounds since who knows when. A simple grunt is all I can muster for the moment. Before I can truly speak my captors voice rings out again. It is almost soft and sweet, but it betrays nothing that would make me thing she will be soft or sweet with me. Despite her obvious cruel streak and the fact that my conscience mind reels against my treatment, the sound of her tone fills me with a certain longing and the flesh between my legs twitches once more in its prison.
“Good boy,” her hand reaches to my head and I feel leather clad fingers ruffle my hair as one would an obedient dog. “I suppose you can be taught. But,” she muses with a tone that betrays the smirk that must be plastered across her face, “you have much yet to learn.”
I hear her movements once more as she paces around my prone, stripped body. I can feel her eyes on my flesh, burning into me. The depth with which she is inspecting every inch of me goes beyond my body all the way to the core of my being. I can’t help but feel completely naked and exposed both inside and out.
Finally, I clear my throat once and a horse voice cracks out. I barely recognize it as my own. Thought I attempt strength, it is lacking. Instead it is barely a whimper. Even my voice apparently knows that I am destined to be on my knees to this woman, bondage or no, “What do you want with me?”
For a moment there is silence. The silence is broken suddenly by a sharp crack and fire racing across my upturned ass. I can only imagine the instrument that has inflicted such agony, but it is most definitely leather. It is just as everything in my new world seems to be: leather and metal. It is also unquestionably intended to punish transgression. I can only assume then that asking what she wants with me is a transgression in this new life.
Finally my captor explains, “See, already you are disobedient. You will escape with that one reminder because you are unfamiliar with the rules. Further disobedience will result in much harsher methods in the future however,” I can only imagine the smirk is once more present on her face. “Speaking without permission is a punishable offense. It will result in ten strokes per word. Is that clear? You may verbalize a single word answer.”
For the moment, it seems in my best interest I decide that to play the game. I am obviously the powerless in this situation, “Yes.”
“Excellent. From now on, know that if I ask a question I require an answer. I expect your answer to be verbal, polite, prompt and using as few words as possible. That is also the last sentence you will ever utter that does not end with the word ‘Mistress’. Failure to address me properly will result in twenty lashes. Are we completely clear?”
“Yes,” I stumble across the title of address she has selected for herself for only a moment before spitting it out as best as I can, “Mistress.”
I can tell she is smirking again as she speaks, there’s something about her tone that betrays it each time, “Excellent. That was the first time you have called me such, but I expect that will be the last time you will ever hesitate to address me properly.”
She says nothing, but I can hear her move and the floor shifts slightly accompanied by a mechanical noise. At first it is impossible to tell exactly what is happening but as the second pass I get the distinct sensation of rising. Further deduction and I gather that the section of the floor that I must be kneeling upon is moving slowly upwards to lift me into the air, like some sort of table. Nothing betrays how high I have raised until the machine finally comes to rest. I can smell something. Initially I cannot place it, but then the scent of arousal fills my nostrils. After a single deep inhale I can tell that her bare sex is directly in front of my face. I can also tell that she is incredibly turned on; I can only guess that it is my domination which causes her excitement. Now I know, however that my face is waist high and can assume she has raised me such for the purposes of slaking her lusts with my mouth. Strangely, the idea does not sound completely unappealing and once more my cock twitches with excitement. This time my member actually attempts to begin developing an erection. Shooting pain cuts that thought my dick as what feels like a thousand tiny needles stab me all over. No matter how small my phallic prison is, apparently it is lined with minute spikes which effectively help to curb any pleasure I may have. Still, a part of me waits with baited breath for the order to pleasure her. I hate the part of me that wants to burry my tongue deep with in her neither region, as I’m certain she wishes. I have no idea how wrong I am.
After I have taken several intoxicating breaths of her scent I can hear her move away. There is the distinct sound of leather and metal, bucks and straps. It is not on me, though. When the sound of her steps returns my nostrils are no longer filled with her aroma, but instead the smell of leather and rubber. Her wonderful fragrance is masked by these but still faint enough for me to catch. Her words are plain, harsh and demanding and they shock me.
“Open your mouth. I am wearing a strap on. You will suck it like a faggot sucking a cock. Any hesitation will result in sever punishment.”
I blink behind my blindfold for a moment. I am not gay; I have never wanted to be gay. The idea of having dick anywhere near me other then my own is frankly, repulsive. However, this creature holds all the cards. To refuse or even hesitate would be met with some unknown fate. For several ticks I am stuck in limbo, my mouth only half open in an attempt to reconcile what to do. The annoyed clearing of her throat solves my moral dilemma and my mouth opens completely.
Once again I feel her leather clad hand grip my hair and twist my head for the perfect entry. It tugs on my collar which pulls on my neck uncomfortably, but I was soon to discover how little my comfort mattered. The shock of being so forcefully violated explains to me just what my comfort is worth. The phallus is massive and she buries it completely inside of my throat. I imagine that it must be as large around as a baseball bat and nearly as long when in truth it was probably no more then seven inches of soft, but firm rubber. The girth fills my mouth completely and the head of the device lodges itself totally inside of me. I want to gag, to vomit and my stomach turns horribly, but there is no where for such actions to go so they are stifled instead. I try to cry out, but it’s nothing more then a muffled moan which one could almost mistake for pleasure. Was it pleasure?
My nose is ground against the leather harness that holds the device to her body and I can smell its distinct odor as well as the musky feminine scent of my dominatrix. Just as my throat feels torn in two, I feel equally torn. I hate her. I hate that I am stripped, I hate that I am bound, I hate that I am raped orally. I love her. I love that she has stripped me, I love that she has bound me and I love that she is raping me. I have lusted after women in the past, but never have to so strongly had the desire to bury my face into a woman’s crotch and make her cum. Never have I desired to pleasure a woman and receive nothing in return. The image of eating out her pussy only to be pet on the head like an obedient dog and left in my bondage for ever fills my mind and it instills both loathing and the imprisoned member between my legs. A grunt of agony at its attempted erection is muffled to yet another moan.
“You aren’t sucking, slave,” she practically sings into the chamber. “Sucking this cock has a multi purpose for you. In the first part, watching you debase yourself pleases me. When I am pleased you will be uncomfortable and humiliated. When I am displeased you are tortured and in agony. Secondly, this device is carefully placed on my body so that your efforts transfer that motion to a nub that rubs me just the right way, if you catch my drift. Sucking it, will not deliver much to my clit, but on the off chance that you successfully make me cum, your day will end her. I will remove you from your restraints, bind you in my room to view for my pleasure but otherwise let you rest for the day,” she paused in a manor that betrayed the all to familiar smirk I had yet to see, but knew by heart already. I took this opportunity to begin rubbing my tongue across the shaft of the device buried in my throat, sucking at it gently. I had never sucked cock before, but I had seen enough porn to guess. I was rewarded with a soft moan of pleasure before she continued, “If you fail to make me cum, there is still a reward for the effort of sucking. You see, if I fail to cum while you suck this,” I moved in such a manor as to produce yet another sudden moan and she chuckled lightly before continuing her speech, “I plan to take your anal cherry immediately after,” I whimpered slightly at that and sucked harder on the device, moving my head as best I could in both my bonds and her grasp to try and force as much stimulation down the device as I could, “Oh don’t cry about it. Today or tomorrow, I will fuck your asshole. It’s if I do it now or later that you are worried about. Regardless, if I fail to cum, I will fuck your ass with this very strap on. The better you suck, the gentler I’ll be. In any case, the only lubrication it will receive will be your spit covering it, so I advice you to suck well.”
I redoubled my efforts with this new knowledge and set work with all my effort. She moaned slightly and she writhed a little, twisting her grip in my hair. I knew that the creature which kept me was a true sadist. The more she moaned the more pain she delivered to my scalp. Ultimately, all my efforts were not enough however as I felt the device yank from my mouth before she came to any obvious climax. A soft sigh of disappointment escaped her lips and she began to pace around me once more. I coughed considerably as the device yanked out of my throat. I didn’t know if I was allowed to vomit, but seeing as how so far I was not permitted anything, even speech or erection, I imagined that would be forbidden as well and thus I suppressed it.
“You did very well for your first cock sucking. I imagine some day you’ll make an excellent faggot. Perhaps I’ll let you train on one of my other slaves. Not enough for me I’m afraid, though. I’m sorry to say that you’ll be fucked in the ass now. The rougher action of pounding your ass will undoubtedly rub me the right way. Besides, I’ve always found it so hot to violate a man in the place that they always desire to violate women.” I wanted to open my mouth; I wanted to protest. A part of me even wanted to beg. But I held my tongue. “Especially,” she continued while her leather gloved hand ran across my exposed balls and then griped the metal covered shaft as if to jerk me off, “While they are kept neuter.”
Her hand returned its attention to my sac and I groaned as my erection attempted to form yet again, already I gathered her teasing me while I was imprisoned in this device would be a constant element to my new life. My thoughts shocked me for a moment. I was beginning to consider my ‘new life’. As if I had already resigned myself to this fate. The thought of resignation was almost comforting. A part of me considered that this new life was impossible to escape and thus my only purpose in life now was to obey. That sick part of me felt free. But the rest of my mind reeled against the though, redoubling its efforts to keep vigilant for some hope of escape or rescue.
“You know,” her voice filled my ears once more, “I have raped so many men in their asses…” she paused as if musing for a second, “women as well mind you, I am an equal opportunity slaver and I have no love of one sex over they other,” she chuckled lightly, “I love them both in my own way. I love when they squirm. I love when they beg. I love when they scream. I love when men’s cocks stand at attention, twitching and helpless forever kept from desperate release. I love when women’s hips hump air in their own forms of your metal prison, desperate for something to violate them deep inside. A desperation that will never arrive. I love to see straight men’s mouths around cocks. I love straight women’s tongues buried inside cunt. I love to debase, humiliate, torture and violate everything about humanity. It is what I was made to do. I love to deny what you want, and give you what you don’t. I love imprisoning your sex organs in metal and leather so that they are useless and then driving both men and women to the brink of orgasm endlessly. I love how all of you, no matter how resolute or strong eventually succumb to me and agree to any violation just for a single orgasm. But what I love most is begging. Out right, pathetic, whimpering begging. In the end, all women beg for their Mistress to drill them with this strap on until they orgasm, screaming. In the end, all men beg to just be allowed to put their cocks inside their Mistress once until they cum, moaning. And that is what this moment lacks. You begging. You will beg me to fuck your ass and it best be convincing…”
This shattered my mind.
No only would this sick bitch torture me, abuse me and rape me, but she
would have me beg for such abuse. For
the moment, my revere of her was broken and reality returned full force.
“No, bitch,” I murmured with a horse throat, thinking perhaps the bitch part was a bit over the top.
She simply sighed. Her stroking of my scrotum continued for a minute more. I almost imagined that she was sad; perhaps she had some emotion after all. Perhaps this was some sill prank and she thought I was actually turned on by it and my violent rebuke had upset her. She would untie me and I would give her a kiss on the check and tell her that it had been a nice try, but I really wasn’t into the dominatrix thing. How amusingly wrong my inane happy thoughts were…
Her hand, instead of tenderly stroking grabbed my balls like an iron vice and twisted them around one hundred an eighty degrees if it was a single. My mouth opened wide in an attempt to scream, but no sound came out. Her other hand grabbed my hair and yanked my head back as far as it could go given the restriction of the collar. Her body pressed over mine, I could feel her naked tits on my back, but it was the least of my concern at the moment. I also felt the head of the device between her legs pressing against my virgin anus, but even that was the least of my worries. What was primary on my mind was the pain shooting through my testicles and her words that chilled me even worse.
“You do not have the right to refuse me ever again. You will do what I ask, when I ask no matter what I tell you to or you will be plunged into a nightmare that you will never wake up from. You are mine to do with as I please. If I tell you to suck your own dick, you will do it or die trying rather then displease me. The next time I tell you to do something and you refuse me I’ll cut these balls off, burn the wound closed with a hot iron, shove the useless organ in your mouth and tape it shut to let them rot inside you. Then I will sever your cock, fuck you with your own dick and strap that into your ass so it can also rot inside your body. Are we perfectly clear?”
Terror and pain produced an immediate response which came out as a gasp, “Yes Mistress.”
She released me from the horrifying hold she had and returned to gently stroking my balls, which were now almost numb with pain, “Good… now, beg me to fuck your ass, slave.”
My sense of self simply shattered, “Please…” I murmured at first, to which she gave a slight twist of my scrotum to implore me that this was not enough, “Please Mistress… fuck my ass…”
“You want me to fuck your asshole with my strap on?” she coyly responded.
I had no choice but to play her foul game, “Yes, Mistress. Please fuck my ass with your strap on, Mistress.”
I could tell she was smirking again and the head of her tool loomed against the bud of my anus, “How badly do you want me to fuck your asshole?”
I shivered slightly and continued, “I want nothing more then for you to drive that dick into my ass,” I stumbled over each word and they were without emotion, but I managed to utter them.
She made a soft humming noise as if she was considering it, “Alright slave… I supposed I’ll fuck your ass, unfortunately your spit has all dried and I have no lube,” the moment the words left her lips my eyes widened behind their blindfold with terror, but she gave me no respite. With sudden, brutal efficiency, the entire length of the tool was driven into me. I may have been an anal virgin until her forceful invasion, but she used me as if I was the town whore. She did not spare me an ounce as she violently raped me. Was it rape? I had begged for it…
I had to drive those thoughts from my mind; I had to affirm my sense of self again. I had not really begged for it. She had made me. This was undoubtedly rape. I was the victim here, not some willing participant. I had to remember that fact, no matter how she twisted my mind or emotions. Still, through all the pain, I would not deny that my dick twitched in yet another attempt to get an erection that most likely would never come again.
She used me until she had climaxed at least once, but perhaps twice. With that she yanked the device out of me. I gasped in unholy pain as it was pulled out and felt the distinct wetness of blood running down my body. A part of me was shocked to be alive. I could hear the sounds of metal and leather and the device clattered to the floor. She moaned another time before the click of her heels found their way around to face me once more. Once again I could smell her sweet sex in my face, this time stronger then ever. It was positively intoxicating. For the moment, all thoughts of torture ebbed away from my mind and instead I wanted her to release me from my bondage simply so that I could fall to my knees willingly and pleasure her. I was certain however, that she had other designs in mind.
“My slave… that was quite nice, but now I’m a mess. I do believe you should clean me.” Her leather clad hand found its way into my hair and she gripped my head as she pressed her crotch into my face. I was in heaven for a moment, but her voice pulled me away from there, “Clean me only. If your tongue penetrates me in any way this pretty mouth will be physically glued around the cock of one of my studs whom I actually allow to orgasm and for a solid year you’ll only get nourishment from milking him.” I diligently began my task, desperately wishing on some level that I could dip inside her for just a second. I was horny beyond measure, but all thoughts of my dick inside her were gone. The thought of being allowed to actually have sex with this sadistic angel whom I had never even seen was incomprehensible. I simply wanted to bury my face into her sex and pleasure her until the end of time. I knew what it was forbidden though, for some reason it was what I desired, so it was denied me. But while I licked her crotch clean of sweat and her juice she continued to muse to me, “Perhaps, if you are a truly good slave, some day you’ll be one of those slaves. Of course, they only cum inside the mouths and assholes of slaves like you. The most well behaved straight ones, though by the time I’m done with most of my charges, they don’t even know what straight is anymore, get a female to deposit inside of; the others are forced to become homosexuals.” She almost seemed to giggle slightly, “Only the very elite of my property ever knows what it is like to be inside me. I doubt you will ever be good enough to be one of those.”
Certain desperation filled me. I needed to be that good. I longed with every fiber of my being to prove that I was worthy of such reward now that I knew it was possible. To have a single moment naked in bed with her consumed my very soul. Even if I was still collared and enslaved, to lay with her as her lover for just a moment was all I wanted. Indeed the more I lapped at her cunt, the more the idea of freedom seemed incomprehensible and even undesirable. As if her juice was some kind of horrible, addictive drug that filled me with a desire to debase myself for her. I loved and loathed it.
Once she had decided I was finished, she pulled away from my body and left me wanting, though away from her scent and her taste some of my faculties began to return. Still I was consumed with a million questions, most of which dedicated to her and not my own fate. One plagued me most of all though. But I was forbidden speech. Perhaps it would be worth any possible punishment.
“Mistress, may I ask a question?”
She moved about me silently, chains and rattling filling my ears as I did so. She giggled again lightly and I felt something against my asshole once more, “Of course not, slave. And that merits a punishment, but I am too tired so I will simply remember to punish you later. Fifty lashes I believe that warrants.” With a single swift shove I felt a phallus, bigger then the one she fucked me with grind home all the way into me. I gasped and awaited the horrific fate of being fucked again. But it did not come. Instead the device stayed buried into me all the way up to a series of leather straps and buckles that locked it into my orifice, which she secured tightly to ensure that I would be most uncomfortably penetrated.
I could only formulate a single response, “I’m sorry Mistress.”
She chuckled again and I could hear a slight creek of leather as she knelt down in front of her face. When her lips touched my own I was filled with fire and electricity. A single kiss from her was more divine then any orgasm any woman before has ever given me. Blood rushed to my member, but it’s only reward was agony. I whimpered into her embrace and I could tell it made her smile. The moment her lips pulled from mine the tube was forced back down into the depths of my throat and the ball gagged followed, strapped tightly into place.
“That’s thirty more,” she said with an obvious grin in her voice. Apologizing to her was worth the punishment.
With that my sadistic angel she left me alone to muse about my predicament. I could feel that shattered sense of self slipping away again as I realized after only one meeting and never even seeing my captor I was becoming hers. I was inevitable. With each passing moment I was further enslaved to this torturous seraph. She would use me, she would torture me, she would toy with me body and emotions for her own pleasure and I did not care.
I cried. I cried in pain, I cried in joy, I cried in resignation. A thousand emotions filled me: sadness for the loss of my old life, joy for my new one, desire to be with her, smell her, touch her and please her. The strangest was freedom though. It had filled me early and I could not understand why. Again it coursed through me. It would take many years before I could comprehend why I felt freedom bound, naked and enslaved. I realized that a slave knows true freedom. They are free from choices, from burdens, from responsibility. They know only a single thing: please their owners. I thought back to the single question I had desired to ask her as the door to my cell shut. How can I please you?
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