by Trent Evans
“Can you sit up?”
Anna’s voice cut through the fog of my semi-consciousness and I looked around, my eyes blinking rapidly, trying to clear my mind. She sat at my head, her thigh mere inches from me.
“I-I think so.”
The groan erupted from deep inside me as my buttocks made contact with the leather cushion. I threw my head back, grimacing at the deep ache in my ass, the stinging of my welts awakened as I sat. “Jesus Christ.”
“You’re going to be sorer tomorrow.” Anna moved to her feet, extending her hand. She’d changed her clothes, her jeans gone, her legs now encased tightly in a form-fitting fabric that molded to every curve and muscle. The shape of her sex was fully on display between her trim, shapely thighs. Her midsection was squeezed into a black leather waist-cincher, a gray knit top clutching her breasts in a snug grip, the neckline daringly low, the cincher amplifying the nip of her waist, making her breasts appear even more lush, the curve of her hips that much more dramatic. Her black heels completed the ensemble, her height accentuated further by the way her dark hair was piled atop her head. Her lips were painted a pale pink gloss, so different from how I’d always pictured the stereotypical ball-busting dominatrix.
I took her offered hand with both of mine, the cuffs still binding them at the wrists. She hauled me to my feet, her strength surprising considering that even in her heels, I still was a head taller than she was, and far stronger.
At that moment though, my physical strength mattered not at all. Anna possessed a power far beyond the mundane limits of muscle, bone, and blood.
She didn’t say a word as she led me from the room, my ass heavy and swollen, my feet shuffling on the carpet, limited by the short chain of my hobble. I had no idea what was to come next, but I knew it was likely to be something I wasn’t going to enjoy.
Anna’s heels click-clacked on the tile as she took me into the kitchen, bidding me stand next to the table. She circled me once, her hand trailing along my naked hip. I watched her until she passed behind me, and I tensed, hissing as her fingers touched my welted buttocks.
“Managed not to break the skin, but you’re nice and bruised, boy. I like it.”
My mouth went dry at the silky tone of her words. I was in very deep trouble.
The silent room echoed with the rumbling of my belly, and Anna laughed softly.
“Someone needs something to eat, I think.”
My cheeks warmed at the humiliating noises, but I nodded anyway.
“I can’t even remember the last time I ate.”
“Which we’re going to remedy. Starting right now.”
I looked at the table, seeing nothing, then glanced over at the oven and sink. There was nothing but an empty cast iron skillet sitting on the cook top, an array of copper bottomed pots and pans hanging from the overhead stainless steel rack.
Then I saw it.
I actually took a step backward at the sight, her hand clapped just over my tailbone, her pinky teasing the upper cleft of my ass, stopping me in place. “You know better than that.”
“I — don’t. What…?”
Oh, but I knew.
A clear glass plate had been placed in the middle of the kitchen floor, several slices of bacon and a piece of wheat toast waiting.
“Time for you to eat your food, Quinton.”
“Please don’t make me do this.”
I knew such a plea was as pathetic as it was futile. Worse, my cock was already beginning to stir slightly at the idea.
“You’re going to have to get used to doing a great many things, whether you want to or not. Be thankful I’m going to allow you to use your hands. Once we get you trained adequately, you won’t even be allowed that privilege.” Her hand patted my martyred buttocks, the sadistic delight plain in her cool voice. “Now, get on your knees.”
Chapter 19
Her heart was in her throat as she waited for him to do it, to take what was in reality a very small step, but symbolically, a world-shifting leap.
Would he really do it?
He looked back at her, his eyes wide, his mouth a shocked O. Then he swallowed hard and turned back toward the plate.
The tiny sound he made as he dropped to his knees made her clit almost sing, her breath coming fast.
His buttocks already bruised in places, the light bluish tint there was like paint smudges not quite cleaned from the skin. The welts still showed quite clearly, crossing in places in swollen, contused ridges, while further down, especially along the lower edge of this cheeks, tiny white splotches could be seen overlaying the flushed, deep red background.
It was a very well-spanked ass — and the sight filled her with a selfish, avaricious pride. She looked forward to countless other opportunities to mark those surprisingly — and pleasingly — round male buttocks.
The strong muscles of his back rippled as he leaned forward to grasp the food, his head staying down, but his position only exposing him further, the whealed cheeks opening just a bit, hinting at the dark whorl of Quinton’s as yet barely tried anus.
It wouldn’t remain that way for long.
There goes that set of panties.
“If I wanted to look at that asshole, I’d tell you to display it, boy.”
His punished backside instantly clenched and he raised his head, glancing back at her, his eyes almost frantic, crimson flooding up his neck, suffusing his face with deep color.
“The correct answer is ‘sorry, Mistress’. Let’s hear you try it on for size.”
He turned his face away, shaking his head.
“I could always warm my arm up again. The strap will last far longer than your ass will.”
“Yes…Mistress.” It was almost a growl — and something she thought she’d probably punish as insolence in the future. But now, it only made her grin.
“Good enough then. Eat, stubborn boy. You’ve got a long day still ahead of you.”
She circled him as he crouched there, on his knees, wolfing down his food. It took him less than two minutes to finish it, and he glared up at her, that defiance gleaming in his eye again.
It warmed her heart — and her pussy — to see it. Quinton was not — and would never be — some broken, beaten dog. She didn’t think any of them knew what it was he was becoming, but it was clear his spirit remained.
Where once it had been selfish arrogance, it was something else entirely, transformed into a pure male pride, a struggle for dignity and respect that she’d always liked and admired in men.
Even those men who chose to submit to her.
You really think he’s choosing this, Anna? Even you can’t weave a rationalization believable enough to make that true.
Whether she believed it or not was immaterial; it was only what he believed that mattered. If he still struggled with it, all the better.
Anna loved the chase, bringing her man down like a prey animal. Most of all, she loved the conquering, bending his will utterly to hers.
There wasn’t much else better in this life.
“All done?”
He nodded silently, pulling himself up to a kneeling position, his butt held as far down as he could manage, as if it might preserve what was left of his modesty.
Silly boy.
“Up with you then.” She tapped his shoulder with the end of the strap and he flinched from it.
He feared it already. The thought had her beaming once again.
The hobble proved to be difficult, preventing him from rising on one leg without losing his balance. With a frustrated little grunt, he dropped down to both knees, then rocked backward, balancing precariously as he rose haltingly to his feet.
“You’ll get better at that.”
“I was kind of hoping I wouldn’t need to.”
Her laugh was soft, but it was meant entirely for him. “You’ll have to get used to it. You’ll rarely have a free moment here. Freedom doesn’t become you.”
He stood straight then, his hands held protectively across his
genitals. With a deep breath, he faced forward, not looking at her as he spoke. “I… don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Now, I mean.”
“Your job is quite easy, boy.” She batted his hands away and took hold of his soft penis, loving the way it felt in her palm. It instantly began to fill as she eased a finger back and forth just behind the underside of the head. “All you have to do… is anything — and everything — you’re told.”
His breath hitched as she moved in front of him, draping the strap over his shoulder and taking his scrotum in her other hand. He looked up, the cords of his neck standing out as she gently squeezed. His thighs were shaking again.
“Your cock already wants to do what it’s told.” She stroked it vigorously, bringing it fully erect once more. “I like that.” She used a finger to poke him in the middle of his forehead. “This may not understand — or want — to obey me. But this cock of yours, yes, he does. Very much.”
He refused to speak, even as his hips began to lean into her as she pumped his cock in her fist.
Stubborn boy, indeed.
“I think it’s time we start your training, don’t you?”
Without waiting for a response, she turned toward the hall, pulling him behind her with a firm grip on his hot, pulsing shaft.
Chapter 20
The cuffs around my wrists pulled at my skin, uncomfortable, but tolerable, even bearing as much of my weight as they did. I wrapped my fingers around the chain, lending a little more support to my wrists. I was too shocked to protest, too terrified to even form coherent speech as they’d affixed me to the restraints dangling from the wood and steel frame.
The room she’d led me into was essentially a playroom — or a torture chamber. A huge St. Andrews cross, the well-varnished wood crossbars gleaming under the hot lights overhead, black straps dripping from it, dominated one corner, the cross surrounded — ominously — by not one, but three overstuffed, high-backed chairs. Their gray upholstered opulence only made the display more unsettling.
I didn’t even want to think about what they were for.
The center of the room, the floors a deeply stained wood, held various apparatuses of pain — some I recognized, one or two I still wasn’t sure about. The sloped bench, two buckled straps neatly stretched across its surface, caught my eye, the polished metal of the buckles gleaming under the overhead lights.
Fortunately, there were no stocks in sight.
In the opposite corner, beside a massive mirror so large it encompassed nearly all of one wall, was the contraption I currently hung helpless in. As soon as they’d bound my wrists to the chains, they’d each taken a leg. I’d been stupid enough to resist at first, actually managing to shake free of Anna’s grip for a moment.
But that little rebellion hadn’t been worth it, Darynn cranking on my ankle until it felt like she meant to twist my foot entirely from my leg. I yelled out as she did it, freezing at her barked order to be still.
Anna, having taken hold of my other leg again, calmly, methodically, reached between my thighs. I watched, horrified, as she opened her hand under my genitals, her palm flat. Then she lightly bounced my balls upon her palm, two brisk flicks of the ends of her fingers reducing me to groaning agony.
They’d stood watching me in silence as I moaned and twisted, cursing as the pain-nausea surged through my pelvis, my belly. It was even worse than being kicked in the balls — and their grins betrayed their obvious enjoyment of my misery.
Without saying a word, they’d taken hold of the chain linking my feet, hauling my legs up, up, so high I thought they meant to suspend me upside down. Then they attached my ankles to either end of a long spreader bar, stretching my legs wide as I hung there, my feet at the same level as my hands. The position exposed me in a way I’d never even imagined.
My balls still ached as I hung there, knowing better than to try anything again, the shame so profound, my blushing so fierce, I pressed my face against the insides of my arms, unable to meet their avid, sparkling gazes.
“You know better than that, boy,” Anna cooed, her voice deceptively kind. “Eyes on us.”
“His cock is still hard,” Darynn said, hands on her hips. Her top was a tight white tank, the hard points of her nipples plain beneath the thin fabric. “I’d have thought this would be too much for him. Seems he’s a glutton for humiliation, this one.”
“No!” The word burst from my lips. I didn’t care that it would likely cost me. I didn’t want them to think I… wanted this. I didn’t want to think about why my cock was erect and throbbing either.
It was impossible to try to unpack all the confusing feelings warring within me. I wasn’t a submissive — I knew that. But why was I excited?
Because you haven’t blown a load since just before the earth cooled, genius.
Anna stood and watched me intently, her fingers still playing with that deadly leather strap, her beautiful dark eyes gleaming with a predatory glee. I wondered what she was thinking as she looked upon my helpless, blatantly displayed body. It wasn’t that I was ashamed of my physique — I took good care of myself.
It was the utter lack of control, the way their eyes took in every part of me, unhurriedly, without a word, as if they had all the time in the world to soak it all in.
And they were right.
The sight of the stainless steel cart rolling up beneath my hips banished the thought from my mind. “W-what the hell is that?”
The top of the cart was flat, stainless steel, just like one might see in an operating room, a bright white cloth draped over it. Laid out in stark display were several tools, implements: a gleaming straight razor, and several safety razors, a few round jars, a length of black rubber hose about a foot long, shaving cream, mirrors.
And a hard, white plastic baton that was reminiscent of something a conductor might utilize while directing a symphony.
Except this time, the only direction done would be that of my humiliation, my pain, my degradation.
I felt like I was going to swallow my tongue.
Anna cocked a thumb toward Darynn. “Get the spot focused on him, will you?”
A brilliant overhead light switched on, and I flinched from it at first, opening my eyes when I realized the beam wasn’t quite focused on my face.
Instead, it bathed my genitals, my entire pelvis, in bright, remorseless light.
Oh fuck.
“Now, isn’t that a sight,” Darynn murmured, returning to stand next to Anna. Both women’s gazes were focused on my groin, on my displayed shame.
Anna stepped up to me, her nails raking lightly across the head of my penis. She clasped me around the calf as she looked down upon me, a faux sweet tone to her voice. “Your hard cock is so eager, isn’t it, Quinton? There’s not going to be any relief for it though. Not anytime soon.” Her hard fingernail worried the slit at the tip, and I hissed at the sting. “Poor thing.”
Darynn laughed, slapping the back of my thigh. “And you thought you had it bad down in your little hole, didn’t you?”
Anna fingered my cock, picking at the head, tracing one of the veins with her fingernail. She tapped just under the head, where I was most sensitive, making me buck in my bonds, the chains above me clinking together.
“Settle down, boy. We’re inspecting you.” She flashed a frown at me and my blood froze. “That bottom of yours is already torn up. You don’t want me to have to look for another part of you to discipline, do you?”
“No.”
She pinched the head of my cock between her fingernails, and I grunted. “No, what?”
“No, Mistress.”
She smiled at me once more. “Good boy. You’ll learn, in time.”
Shit!
Anna went back to fondling my cock, and I dropped my head back, readying myself for more pain, my helplessness against what might come both terrifying and strangely fascinating. Utterly vulnerable, a simple squeeze of her fist could unman me in seconds, and yet… being in her hands. Completely surrendered…
Though I fought it, my body didn’t seem to be cooperating. It was almost like my cock liked being this vulnerable, liked being toyed with, examined.
What the fuck is happening to me!
A finger tapped at the very tip of my cock. “He might look good with a Prince Albert, but I haven’t decided yet.”
“I could call Leah,” Darynn said, with a tilt of her head. “She loves doing the ones that exit through the tip. Makes for easy ejaculation control, that’s for sure.”
“It’s pretty extreme though,” Anna mused, as if I weren’t even there, as if it weren’t my cock she played with like a simple toy for her amusement.
“Any limitation on it?”
“God no,” Anna murmured. “Even double-checked, just to be sure. Wasn’t exactly enthusiastic agreement, but it was enough.”
“Agreement on what?”
Anna fixed me with a withering stare, my penis clasped firmly — pointedly — in her hand. “Another outburst from you and you’re going to regret it. Be a good boy for me and keep that mouth shut unless you’re asked a direct question.” She squeezed my shaft, hard, and I jerked in my suspension. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes! Yes, Mistress.” I was almost panting, fearing that the head of my cock was about to pop off under the ruthless pressure.
Finally, she relented, and I sagged in my chains.
“So easy to control them this way,” Darynn said, grinning. “They think they’re so big and strong — until their heels are pointed at the sky and their balls are cradled in your palm.” Darynn’s gray-eyed gaze flashed as she said it. “Tends to… clarify things for them.”
“I’d say our little Quinton understands the situation now.” Anna flicked a gaze up at me. “Now, I have a question for you — and I want an honest answer.”
I nodded, my lips seemingly glued shut.
“Do you have any phobia of needles?”
Oh, Jesus Christ.
“N-no. But… what are you—?” My heart was beating like a drum, my mouth as dry as a desert.
“That’s answer enough,” Anna said with a wave of her hand. “I think we’ll let Leah make the call. I’m inclined not to have it exit through the meatus, but I’m open to whatever she thinks is best.”