Nyx
Member
MIRROR: Download from MEGA
Eh. This is semi non-fiction and I'm well aware it's not up to the caliber of writing that most of you exhibit, but I hope you enjoy this relatively tame bit of writing I typed up. 
My eye are down, chin level in Attention, but even without looking I can sense him. He prowls like a sure footed cat around my trembling form. I am not permitted to look up until he says so and I find myself both longing for and dreading the moment when I must meet his brown eyes. I am standing in the middle of our ‘playroom’, on a small area covered by a rug. A table nearby holds drawers filled with implements I both love and hate. A single chair, a bench, a small fridge and various hooks complete the Spartan décor. Cold air blows through the windowless room and I shiver.
“Are you afraid, kitten?”
His velvet toned voice carries a hard edge, and a world of possibilities I have no control over. I am completely in his power.
“A little, Master,” is spoken breathlessly.
He does not answer immediately. One large hand runs along my shoulders, tracing a path down my spine to the crest of my naked backside. A soft moan builds in my throat.
“Why?”
His lips are at my ear. Almost without thinking, I turn my head, my mouth straining to meet his.
“I didn’t give you permission to move,” he responds. Keeping one hand on my bottom, he moves the other to grip the back of my neck. A wave of submission and obedience washes over me. I return to my position, experiencing an odd mixture of security and healthy fear. “Answer the question.”
I hesitate and his grip becomes painful, eliciting a muffled protest.
“Because… I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
One sharp smack lands across my right cheek. I jump, wincing slightly.
“As it should be,” is his cool reply. “All fours, head resting on your forearms and facing away from me, now.”
I hasten to obey although my legs are watery. All I know is that I am to be punished for several acts of disobedience that have accumulated. As I wait in my vulnerable position I mentally berate myself. After a long period of leniency I let myself grow disrespectful and insubordinate. Shame fills my core but I bite my tongue against the apology. I know I won’t be forgiven until I am thoroughly chastened.
SMACK.
Air leaves my lungs in a rush. Sharp pain blossoms across my backside, starting a fire I know my Master will continue to flame. I turn my head slightly to see Master standing over me with a hairbrush, handcuffs clipped to his pants.
“Thank me.”
“Master?”
“Thank me for the stroke, girl.”
“Th-thank you, master.”
“After every stroke you will thank me and ask for another.”
I blush, humiliation racing through my body even as I feel a delicious warmth building between my legs. “Yes, master.” I whisper.
SMACK.
I yelp and fight the urge to move.
“Thank you, Master…”
“Yes?”
“May I have another?”
By the time the tenth smack lands I am struggling to force the words out, tears tracking a path down my face. By the fifteenth I am babbling and nearly incoherent. I quickly lose count of the strokes, my whole world encompassed in a flat back hairbrush turning my ass a blazing red.
“Please, Master.” I finally beg.
He pauses his onslaught while I gasp for breath. “Yes?”
“No more. Please, Master. I can’t take anymore!”
A rapid volley of blows assaults my tender backside until I am howling and gasping. I barely notice when the onslaught stops.
“You don’t decide that. Presentation, now.”
Crying softly, I sit up, wincing as my heels connect with my backside.
“Present your wrists.”
Wordlessly I lift my wrists so he can cuff them. Gently he grabs my chin with his hands and tips my head back so our eyes connect. I look down.
“Eyes up. Don’t make me say it twice.”
Hesitantly, shame coloring my face, I meet his gaze. I love his eyes, normally an amused, warm chocolate brown. Even without words he can speak volumes. I love to make his eyes light up with excitement or laughter.
But now… every second is like an eternity. The anger is unbearable enough, but the disappointment lying there nearly crushes my spirit. How have I forgotten how stern, how commanding he can be? I am paying the price now.
“I am so sorry, master.” I choke out.
He pushes my hair behind my shoulders and kisses my forehead. “I know you are. We’re almost through, kitten, and then you can be forgiven.”
“Yes, master.”
“Now lie back and spread your legs.”
I obey, biting my tongue against my questions and protests. A moment later he slips a velvet blindfold around my eyes. The world disappears into total darkness. My hands are pushed above my head and secured to the wall. Though I can’t be certain, I am fairly certain that the cold snap of metal on my ankles is a spreader bar. Silence. Then there is a rustling noise, a breathless moment as I try to sense my surroundings, and suddenly an ice cold sensation on my stomach.
“Do you know what that is?”
“An ice cube, sir.” I whimper.
He traces the ice lower, and then up to my chest, letting it sit in the valley between my breasts. “I have four ice cubes.”
At that I struggle, but when I open my mouth to protest it is suddenly filled with a rubbery taste. Panic swells in the back of my mind. “Don’t struggle. The gag is necessary. I don’t wish to listen to your cries.”
I struggle anyways and am rewarded with a sharp smack across my pussy. I arch my back in pain and settle into stillness.
He is not merciful, my master. He uses the first ice cube to fully torture my body with anticipation. The cold, wet feeling tracks around my stomach, my breasts and my erect nipples leaving rivulets of icy water all over my body. The last bit is melted against my clit as I whimper through the gag. The cold seems nearly unbearable.
A moment later I gasp and jerk as my master’s fingers plunge into my slit. His fingers move in and out of me gently, and then harder and rougher until I am on the edge of orgasm, moaning through the gag and struggling to stay still. And then, abruptly, he stops. My entire body is concentrated on the unfulfilled ache between my legs. I whimper in frustration, my muffled pleading taking on a higher pitch.
“Be silent and don’t cum.”
With that he slides an ice cube into my slit. The intense cold and the slight touch of his fingers nearly sends me over the edge. I raise my hips without thinking, too far gone to care about how I must look.
“You are a slut, aren’t you little one?” He chuckles. “But there will be no relief until I am ready to give it to you.”
If I had the strength to beg I would, although I am sure my straining body is plea enough.
While the second ice cube melts oh so slowly in my pussy, my Master pushes up my hips and places the third cube in my anus, letting his fingers linger around the hole. Shame and desire pump through my chest, and by the time he melts the fourth ice cube against my nipples my whole body is concentrated on holding back the orgasm that is begging to be released.
Abruptly Master unclips my restraints, yanks off my blindfold and half drags, half leads me over to the bench. He roughly pushes me over it, and I thrust out my backside, begging without words.
“What is it, kitten?’ His voice is thick with arousal as he undoes the buckle on the ball gag.
I lick my lips. “Oh please, oh please Master. Take me. Please, please.”
I don’t hear him remove his clothes through the blood pounding in my ear but a moment later the tip of him enters my anus. He places a hand on my left cheek, stroking roughly and pinching until I squirm. “I am going to pleasure myself with your ass, my little slut. You will not cum until I give you permission, although you are welcome to beg for release. Now lift your pretty ass for me a bit so I can fuck you. Perhaps this will remind you of your place.”
I cry out as he fills me with one stroke, pain and pleasure fully mixed. And then he begins the move inside me, at first slow and torturous and then faster and rougher as his orgasm comes.
“Who are you?” Master growls.
“I’m yours, Master. All yours… please, please let me cum!”
He ignores my pleas until the last shudder of pleasure has left his body. And then, softly into my ear, with his cock still inside me he whispers, “Cum now.”
A fierce orgasm rips itself through my body, and I give into it, riding the waves of pleasure and exhaustion. I don’t notice the moment when he pulls out, but suddenly his voice is calling to me from the chair across the room. I stand up shakily and walk to him with my eyes down.
“Please forgive me, Master.” I say as I curl up against his chest.
“I do.” He replies.
My eye are down, chin level in Attention, but even without looking I can sense him. He prowls like a sure footed cat around my trembling form. I am not permitted to look up until he says so and I find myself both longing for and dreading the moment when I must meet his brown eyes. I am standing in the middle of our ‘playroom’, on a small area covered by a rug. A table nearby holds drawers filled with implements I both love and hate. A single chair, a bench, a small fridge and various hooks complete the Spartan décor. Cold air blows through the windowless room and I shiver.
“Are you afraid, kitten?”
His velvet toned voice carries a hard edge, and a world of possibilities I have no control over. I am completely in his power.
“A little, Master,” is spoken breathlessly.
He does not answer immediately. One large hand runs along my shoulders, tracing a path down my spine to the crest of my naked backside. A soft moan builds in my throat.
“Why?”
His lips are at my ear. Almost without thinking, I turn my head, my mouth straining to meet his.
“I didn’t give you permission to move,” he responds. Keeping one hand on my bottom, he moves the other to grip the back of my neck. A wave of submission and obedience washes over me. I return to my position, experiencing an odd mixture of security and healthy fear. “Answer the question.”
I hesitate and his grip becomes painful, eliciting a muffled protest.
“Because… I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
One sharp smack lands across my right cheek. I jump, wincing slightly.
“As it should be,” is his cool reply. “All fours, head resting on your forearms and facing away from me, now.”
I hasten to obey although my legs are watery. All I know is that I am to be punished for several acts of disobedience that have accumulated. As I wait in my vulnerable position I mentally berate myself. After a long period of leniency I let myself grow disrespectful and insubordinate. Shame fills my core but I bite my tongue against the apology. I know I won’t be forgiven until I am thoroughly chastened.
SMACK.
Air leaves my lungs in a rush. Sharp pain blossoms across my backside, starting a fire I know my Master will continue to flame. I turn my head slightly to see Master standing over me with a hairbrush, handcuffs clipped to his pants.
“Thank me.”
“Master?”
“Thank me for the stroke, girl.”
“Th-thank you, master.”
“After every stroke you will thank me and ask for another.”
I blush, humiliation racing through my body even as I feel a delicious warmth building between my legs. “Yes, master.” I whisper.
SMACK.
I yelp and fight the urge to move.
“Thank you, Master…”
“Yes?”
“May I have another?”
By the time the tenth smack lands I am struggling to force the words out, tears tracking a path down my face. By the fifteenth I am babbling and nearly incoherent. I quickly lose count of the strokes, my whole world encompassed in a flat back hairbrush turning my ass a blazing red.
“Please, Master.” I finally beg.
He pauses his onslaught while I gasp for breath. “Yes?”
“No more. Please, Master. I can’t take anymore!”
A rapid volley of blows assaults my tender backside until I am howling and gasping. I barely notice when the onslaught stops.
“You don’t decide that. Presentation, now.”
Crying softly, I sit up, wincing as my heels connect with my backside.
“Present your wrists.”
Wordlessly I lift my wrists so he can cuff them. Gently he grabs my chin with his hands and tips my head back so our eyes connect. I look down.
“Eyes up. Don’t make me say it twice.”
Hesitantly, shame coloring my face, I meet his gaze. I love his eyes, normally an amused, warm chocolate brown. Even without words he can speak volumes. I love to make his eyes light up with excitement or laughter.
But now… every second is like an eternity. The anger is unbearable enough, but the disappointment lying there nearly crushes my spirit. How have I forgotten how stern, how commanding he can be? I am paying the price now.
“I am so sorry, master.” I choke out.
He pushes my hair behind my shoulders and kisses my forehead. “I know you are. We’re almost through, kitten, and then you can be forgiven.”
“Yes, master.”
“Now lie back and spread your legs.”
I obey, biting my tongue against my questions and protests. A moment later he slips a velvet blindfold around my eyes. The world disappears into total darkness. My hands are pushed above my head and secured to the wall. Though I can’t be certain, I am fairly certain that the cold snap of metal on my ankles is a spreader bar. Silence. Then there is a rustling noise, a breathless moment as I try to sense my surroundings, and suddenly an ice cold sensation on my stomach.
“Do you know what that is?”
“An ice cube, sir.” I whimper.
He traces the ice lower, and then up to my chest, letting it sit in the valley between my breasts. “I have four ice cubes.”
At that I struggle, but when I open my mouth to protest it is suddenly filled with a rubbery taste. Panic swells in the back of my mind. “Don’t struggle. The gag is necessary. I don’t wish to listen to your cries.”
I struggle anyways and am rewarded with a sharp smack across my pussy. I arch my back in pain and settle into stillness.
He is not merciful, my master. He uses the first ice cube to fully torture my body with anticipation. The cold, wet feeling tracks around my stomach, my breasts and my erect nipples leaving rivulets of icy water all over my body. The last bit is melted against my clit as I whimper through the gag. The cold seems nearly unbearable.
A moment later I gasp and jerk as my master’s fingers plunge into my slit. His fingers move in and out of me gently, and then harder and rougher until I am on the edge of orgasm, moaning through the gag and struggling to stay still. And then, abruptly, he stops. My entire body is concentrated on the unfulfilled ache between my legs. I whimper in frustration, my muffled pleading taking on a higher pitch.
“Be silent and don’t cum.”
With that he slides an ice cube into my slit. The intense cold and the slight touch of his fingers nearly sends me over the edge. I raise my hips without thinking, too far gone to care about how I must look.
“You are a slut, aren’t you little one?” He chuckles. “But there will be no relief until I am ready to give it to you.”
If I had the strength to beg I would, although I am sure my straining body is plea enough.
While the second ice cube melts oh so slowly in my pussy, my Master pushes up my hips and places the third cube in my anus, letting his fingers linger around the hole. Shame and desire pump through my chest, and by the time he melts the fourth ice cube against my nipples my whole body is concentrated on holding back the orgasm that is begging to be released.
Abruptly Master unclips my restraints, yanks off my blindfold and half drags, half leads me over to the bench. He roughly pushes me over it, and I thrust out my backside, begging without words.
“What is it, kitten?’ His voice is thick with arousal as he undoes the buckle on the ball gag.
I lick my lips. “Oh please, oh please Master. Take me. Please, please.”
I don’t hear him remove his clothes through the blood pounding in my ear but a moment later the tip of him enters my anus. He places a hand on my left cheek, stroking roughly and pinching until I squirm. “I am going to pleasure myself with your ass, my little slut. You will not cum until I give you permission, although you are welcome to beg for release. Now lift your pretty ass for me a bit so I can fuck you. Perhaps this will remind you of your place.”
I cry out as he fills me with one stroke, pain and pleasure fully mixed. And then he begins the move inside me, at first slow and torturous and then faster and rougher as his orgasm comes.
“Who are you?” Master growls.
“I’m yours, Master. All yours… please, please let me cum!”
He ignores my pleas until the last shudder of pleasure has left his body. And then, softly into my ear, with his cock still inside me he whispers, “Cum now.”
A fierce orgasm rips itself through my body, and I give into it, riding the waves of pleasure and exhaustion. I don’t notice the moment when he pulls out, but suddenly his voice is calling to me from the chair across the room. I stand up shakily and walk to him with my eyes down.
“Please forgive me, Master.” I say as I curl up against his chest.
“I do.” He replies.
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