My new pet (closed rp)in progress

[flaming]

My new pet

I was on vacation, alone in a strange town. I needed to get away from everything and from everybody. I'd recently ended a rather long relationship which did not satisify me, but one which my partner couldn't give up. Not that he was controlling, he clung. So I told all I was going to visit realitives and picked a city at random and left.

I had been here all of 24 hours, paid a visit to the local mall that had a Victoria Secrets, to purchase some undergarments that made me feel sexy and doned them and a low cut shirt to show off my new spider tattoo on my left back shoulder. All in all I felt free for the first time in a long time.

That was until I rounded the corner and headed down a very sparcly populated street. I didn't hear the footfalls behind me till the moment before the sweet smelling cloth covered my mouth and nose. In that instant the world went black.

I woke strapped to a table that reminded me of something from a hospital. I could see a man standing in the shadows. Fear coursed through me. It only took a short time to learn his plan for me. I was to be his new pet, replacing the last one who in his terms died happy. He called me a whore and ripped off my shirt, learing at my exposed skin. He told me how I would be trained to serve him .

I begged for him to release me only to be struck by him for speaking. I told him I'd be missed. He told me I wouldn't no one would miss someone that had already hidden their own tracks. It was then I knew he'd planned this for some time. I was lost.

He removed my remaining clothing, not caring that he ruined them in the porcess, then he began to take stock of his new pet. To look at my naked form as I lay strapped down unable to move or escape.


I was afraid yet my body did what it wanted when a man looked at it. Could he see the wettness building, seemed my own body would be my downfall.

 

[flaming]

((my friend seems to be having log in troubles))

 

[flaming]

I heard a sound...and so did he from the way his head shot up and he looked towards the door. I deep frown marred his intense face as he headed to the door. I heard the click of it locking behind him.

I could hear voices raised in the next room, shouts then the sounds of a fight. A cracking sound preceeded a loud thump and then there was silence.

I wanted to scream out for help, but didn't not knowing who had been the victor, or what someone else might do to tie up loose ends.

Soon I heard the sounds of dragging and then the closing of a door. I layed there trembling and afraid for I have no idea how long. There was no windows in the room so it was impossible to tell the time or for that matter whether it was day or night.

Hours creeped by and finally I fell into a fitfull sleep, full of strange dreams. I woke trying to move but still tied to the table. My arms tingled from the lack of movement. Then it hit me...

I may very well die in this place slowly and alone. "oh god please' I thought then pleaded in a harsh whisper.

Time dragged on and I knew no one would find me, save me. That man had wanted a pet , a toy, a plaything. I knew he was not coming back, and I almost laughed out loud at the iironry, for now I would do or be anything to anyone if only I was found.

((I guess my friend istn't showing...so if no one posts Ill come back and post a nice little death to end this, I so hate leaving things hanging))

 

[patrick1]

the english stranger

She knows I've gone - someone's gone - but not that I've returned. I have never been a hunter, but I have the stealth of one. I like to walk along the edges of wilderness, and scent the animals.

I scent this animal. This female animal. I've waited, silent, listening, watching through the spyhole in the wall, until I can smell despair.

Now I turn the handle of the door. I don't go in. 'If you want to be untied, and fed, shut your eyes. Shut them very very tight.'

Her head is turned towards the door. Her bewilderment is evident: she strains to look into the shadows. I have such a different voice to her captor's. Mine is gentle, English-accented, older. Am I the same man, acting? Or another?

Finally, she shuts her eyes. Tight. I go to her. From my little bag, I place soft cotton pads over her eyes. 'Please,' she says, and begins to sob. I place my forefinger on her lips. 'No speaking without permission.' Her sobs continue as I fasten two pieces of tape over each of her eye-pads. Then the leather blindfold goes on top. I lift her head slightly to buckle it behind her head. 'You must not remove the blindfold. Promise me.'

It's hard to hear her words through her sobs - of fear? relief? - and I have to tell her to repeat the words. The second time it's clear: 'I must not remove the blindfold.'

Only now do I go to each of the four corners of the table and release her ankles, then her wrists. She makes small sounds of relief. I rub her ankles to help the circulation. She rubs her own wrists, squirming on the hard table. How her poor muscles must ache. I stroke her calves. My soft fingers touch the fronts of her thighs. She becomes wary, tense. I stroke her hips. My hands lightly cup her breasts. My fingertips caress her shoulders. I trace the features of her face. 'There was a man,' I say, and she tenses again, as my hands stroke her arms, and then move back down over her body, 'but I have dealt with him. Now it is I who needs a pet.' The palm of my right hand just brushes her pubic mound. And then I am stroking her legs again. 'I think she needs a collar and leash. And perhaps, an orgasm. Are you wet for me, pet? Here: caress yourself. Perhaps if you please me, I shall let you get down from the table, and feed you.'

I take her own right hand and place it at her cunt; her left, and place it at her left breast. What will she do, confused as she evidently is by my gentleness? I step back, and watch, and wait. Can she truly become a pet, as Dagmar believed? Before I decided I didn't want to share her with him?

 

[flaming]

In confusion

The man had not returned, I could only believe him dead, a comforting thought even though it migh very well mean my own death. I'd planed out my vacation so well, I'd called it a vacation, but I'd made all the arrangements for it to be permant. The movers would be arriving on Monday to take my packed things to the storage house where my account was paid in full for the next 12 months. My bank accounts were closed. I didn't own a car, any property, nothing that I would have to deal with in the next year while I rebuilt my life.

The best laid plans of mice and men.

I was deep in thought when the door opened and a voice spoke to me from the shadows just outside the door. "If you want to be untied, and fed, shut your eyes. Shut them very very tight.'

In shock my head turns towards the door, the man is just beyond the opening out of site. The voice is different, softer; English sounding. Its not the same.

Suddenly it hits me what he had said. not to look, to close my eyes and then he would untie me. I shut them tightly and strained to hear him approach. I hear movement, then something soft is placed on my closed eye. "Please" I whisper sobbing, afraid. I finger touches my lips stilling me.

'No speaking without permission.' He commands in a soft accented voice I know knew was English. I continue to cry as he places a pad over my other eye and fastens them in place before adding what I think must be a kind of blindfold. It smells of leather. He tells me to promise not to remove it. Sobbing harder I make the promise he wants. "I must not remove the blindfold."

To my relief he unties me rubbing my ankles as I rub my wrists trying to restore the circulation to my tingleing limbs.

He stops rubbing but continues to touch me gentling carressing my limbs in a way that is very intimate. I don't understand what he is doing, then he mentions the other man making me tense in fright.

"Now it is I who needs a pet." He says as his hand touches the mound of hair between my legs. 'I think she needs a collar and leash. And perhaps, an orgasm. Are you wet for me, pet? Here: caress yourself. Perhaps if you please me, I shall let you get down from the table, and feed you.'

He moves my hands to where he wants them, then withdraws, waiting. I don't know what to do. I ache all over and yet I have a feeling my future depends on my next move or lack of one. If I am ever to have a chance to escape, then I must do as he says now. But I don't know if I can?

I open my mouth to tell him I can't then close it as his earlier words ring in my head. 'No speaking without permission.'

My hands start moving caressing my mound and kneeding my breast. I try to clear my mind of the fear which keeps me dry and unresponsive to my own touch. I move my hand up to my mouth and lick my fingers to help with the dryness. Spreading my vaginal lips and spreading my legs wider I start to finger myself, running the tips over my opening and teasing the nub there.

I sob again, I cant....I must....Clear your mind think of something anything to arrouse you. Unbidden my mind replays how his fingers felt as then touched my body. I imagined then touching me more, deeper, my fingers were his fingers, arrousing me...I felt the heat starting to build inside at the thought of him stroking me. A moan escaped my lips as the last thoughts of my fate fled for now. I rubbed my nub in circular motions while kneeding first my left breast then my right, feeling the need take over and the want of being taken. It had been so long since I'd had sex that didn't leave me feeling wanting. Had a real man take me in ways that made complete surrender my only option, the option I could easly become addicted to. I moaned louder.....

 

[patrick1]

in pleasure

How lovely she is, writhing at my command.

And then, in two strides, I am crouching beside her, murmuring into her right ear...'Yes, that's right...Come for me, pet...Make love to yourself and come for me...shout out whatever you want to shout out...come for me...yes...yes...'

 

[flaming]

Lost in a flood of feelings

'Yes, that's right...Come for me, pet...Make love to yourself and come for me...shout out whatever you want to shout out...come for me...yes...yes...'

With no way to see, my world was narrowed to the feelings of my fingers playing over and into myself and the seductive tones of the voice whispering in my ear. Flashes of images formed in my mind as I deepened my fingers stroking, moving them in and out then around the opening and back to tease my ass before returning to fuck myself. My mind played out a fantasy, vivid feelings of how it would be to have the body attached to that voice covering mine. His shaft sinking deep into me as i called out in pleasure.

For so long I'd lived knowing the best I could hope for was the quick and lackluster fucking I received so seldomly . And the feeling of inadquadicy when I'd have to finish quietly so as not to let him here when he left the room to clean up the mess.

Although I was in a way doing the same thing the feelings were so vastly different, I was not alone, and the voice urging me to call out wanted to see me climax.

I began to cum as I called out "Oh god im going to cum', in a voice louder than I had intended. I pinched my nipple hard pulling on it as my hips bucked and warm gushes of liquid excitement wet my fingers and hand.

So engrosed in the feelings of such a intense orgasim I all but forgot my situation moving my wet hand to my lips and licking my fingers tasting my own cum. I let my hand fall to on top of its mate still on my breast and without realizing it a small smile curved the corners of my lips. I might die at the hands of this unknown stranger, but if that was to be I'd go contented for once in my life.

 

[patrick1]

becoming a pet

As the throes of her orgasm begin to expire, at last I tear myself away from the vision of her nude, blind, writhing body and allow myself to go to her. I clasp her hips, feeling the rhythm of her pleasure still moving through her limbs. Blindly, her face seems to look for mine. I press her hands into her breasts where they rest. I bend, and lick a little of her own wetness from her fingers, where she herself licked moments before. My hands move over her body. I want to feel the pulses in her, the little places in her shoulders, or behind her knees perhaps, or in the curve beneath her breasts, where small pleasures will move her.

'Good pet,' I say, 'good pet. This is how you will receive your rewards; by cumming for me. You must always try to be wet for your master. What must you always try?'

'I must always try to be wet for my master.'

Her voice comes as if from far away. I touch her face. I reach across to the table by the wall where I have placed, in readiness, her next adornments. 'It's time for your collar and leash, pet.' I lift her head slightly, and place the thin leather around her neck, and buckle it behind her. Perhaps she feels the D-ring at the front. 'I know your body must be aching, but it must endure more discomfort before you may rest.' I touch half a dozen places on her neck, with my fingertips, and she makes little sounds. I clip the chain to the D-ring. I trail it down between her breasts, over her rib-cage and belly, so that she feels the iron links. 'At the end of the chain is a rubber phallus. When I am not using it to pull you along, or to secure you to something, you are to keep it secure in your cunt. Here, take hold of it and push it into yourself.'

Her hands go from her breasts to the phallus. She is still slick from her cumming. The phallus enters her sex easily.

I stroke her skin. How lovely it is to have a pet. 'Now, you will be spending a good deal of time on your hands and knees while you're learning to be my pet. So you'll need these.' She makes a slight noise, of surprise, as I lift her left leg slightly, and buckle a pad to her left knee; then one to her right knee, then one to the palm of each hand.

'Now you're ready to get down. On to your hands and knees.'

She is stiff and a little sore, I can tell by her stiff movements. I take her hands, and half-lift her off the table, but I don't let her stand for more than a moment. 'Down. Down. Kneel. When I say kneel, you must kneel upright, legs apart, hands on your upper thighs.' How beautifully she complies. I stroke her hair. 'Very good, pet.'

The phallus slips out of her cunt and I laugh, taking it. 'Now, walk.' I tug on the leash. The chain jangles. She follows me, on to carpet. I don't explain to her where we are going. I open a door and turn her left. There's a threshhold, two steps down on to stone. I hear her grunt slightly, I didn't forewarn her of the steps. Then there's grass. It's warm outside. I loop the phallus through a hook in the ground. I stroke her hair, and her back.

'Here, pet. You are in an enclosed courtyard. I am going to leave you here, while I make us something to eat. You are to pee: untrained pets relieve themselves outside, until their master decides they are ready to be trusted. You are to leave your blindfold on, and remain either on all fours, or kneeling. You may caress yourself. I shall be watching.'

She is quivering. I crouch beside her. My hand runs through her hair. 'Of course, you could rip the blindfold off, and stand up, and tear off the collar and leash. You are not bound. I simply wish you to know that I want you to remain blind, collared, leashed, on all fours. I shall be watching.'

Her mouth opens, as if to ask a question, but I haven't given her permission to speak, and anyway, I am gone, the door bangs, and she is left alone, on the grass: my new pet. I really must get round to giving her a name. I watch her, from the kitchen window.

 

[flaming]

accepting fate

The grass beneath me is cool, the slight wind stiring my hair slightly. I can feel the sun as it peeks out from the drifting clouds. But I can see none of it. The blindfold is still in place while my mind organizes my options.

I smell salt in the air when the wind changes direction. Salt met the sea. I had been no where near the sea, but I knew deep down I was now. And I had to 'go' so badly I knew I could not hold it anylonger. I would rather do it blindfolded so I would not see myself doing it or him watching me, if he really was.

I crawled till the chain pulled tightly then turned towards it stretching my body as far from it as I could before releiving myself in the grass. It was so embarassing, but it felt so good to be rid of the cramping that had begun from holding it in. It also allowed my mind to clear so I could think more clearly.

He had not bound me so I could not remove the things he's put on me. My hands went to the blindfold ready to rip it off. I couldn't do it. Not that I didn't want to but if I did I would have to leave. And why not part of me argueded. Why because I'm in a place I don't know, I am naked with marks on my body from the first mans mishandling of me. If I were found the athorities would become involved. The newspapers would want to know as much as the police. And that was if I succeded in getting away, that man had done something to the first man, I wasn't dumb enough to think he'd let me just walk away.

But above all the other reasons was the fact that in todays sociaty, polite sociaty it is still considered the womans falt when a crime of a sexual nature is committed. She is labled a slut and is black listed by strangers, friends and family. The fact I had made arrangements to cover my leaving would only make me look more guilty.

I could feel tears welling in my eyes and was unable to even shed them. I sobed laying down in the grass. Allowing all that he had said from the time I had made myself cum for him till he'd left me out here alone.

Which was worse, to be humilated and ridculed and out case forever guilty. Or to stay here, give up my freedom willing and hopefully be cared for so that I would not have to fact that other fate.

There never really was a choice.

I fellt a bug crawling on by breast and brushed it off with my hand accidently brushing my nipple in the process. It became instantly hard. Was it the blindfold that was making my body react to such a small touch. Was it the fact I'd been starved for real sex, the kind that makes you want more? Maybe it was a little of both. All I knew right now was I was very sleepy and growing aroused by the warm sun and the cool wind.

Let him watch....

I rolled onto my back and let my legs spread slightly. Then i traced the contures of my body with just the tips of my fingers. Even as a child I'd love the feel and how my skin would break out in goose bumps. I traced circles around my nipples brushing them till they stood out hard and round. I moved one hand down dragging it lightly though the hair of my pubic reigon and teasing the skin of my vaginal lips. Small twinges of delight ran through my body. I think I might have cum again if the need for sleep hadn't been stronger then the feelings of my fingers. I yawned loudy as my hands slowed and I fell into a light sleep one hand on my breast, then other on top my sex.

 

[patrick1]

feeding a pet

My tug on the chain to her collar jerks her awake. How pretty she is, lying naked on the grass, her hand at her cunt, little fragments of grass and soil on her thigh, and her right breast, and in her hair. Does she even know where she is for a moment? I don't give her time to collect her wits, to remember she's in my courtyard. 'Time to eat, pet.'

I have to half-drag her over the grass for the first couple of strides. She seems to try to look at her hands - at the pads on them perhaps - then realizes all over again she is blind, blindfold. She will need the pads, on her hands and kees, before I permit her to stand, I think.

'Up, two steps,' I say kindly, and she is inside and crawling over carpet. I slam the door shut behind her. Along a corridor of carpet and she's awake now, 'Please,' she's saying, but I take no notice. She'll call to mind soon that she isn't to speak without permission.

A cooler surface for her. Tiles on the floor. 'Crouch, pet. Bent forward. Arse in the air. That's right.' I sit down beside her, holding the phallus at the end of her leash-chain. There's something that fills me with pleasure, holding it, knowing it has entered her, and will enter her again, later. I stroke her head, then all the way down her spine. I feel her rounded buttocks. 'It's time for a meal. Pasta spirals with vegetables and a tossed salad. Dry white wine. I shall eat mine here at the table. You'll eat yours from your two bowls at my feet. You may not use your hands. Lick and suck it up, pet.'

I take a bite of my food. For a few moments - for a full minute - I wonder if she's going to resist. But then her nose feels for the bowl, and she pushes her hair back out of the way, and her mouth sucks up some of the food. I breathe a sigh of relief. With my left hand I fork myself more food; take a drink; get another forkful. As she slurps, and eats, I can't resist, she looks so appealing - with my right hand I take the rubber phallus at the end of her chain, and reach beneath her, and push it between the lips of her vagina. She turns, at the first push. Then she eats again, animal-like. And I push the phallus into her, and out; and we both eat, and I push it into her, and out...

 

[flaming]

a new life started

I awake confused then feel the chain attached to the collar around my neck as I am being dragged across the cool grass. I get back to all fours; momentarly forgetting why I have pads on my hands. Then it all floods back. Im not me I am that man's pet. He had said it was time for food. I hadn't realize how hungry I was till then.
"Up, two steps" I hear just as my hand hits the bottom most one. Im on carpet now and I hear the door slam behind me.

"Please" I whisper only to be ignored. The carpet ends, replaced by cool tiles. I can feel with my fingers that they are slick a sign they are clean. A strange thought, but it makes me feel better that he seemes to care that I not have a dirty floor to crawl on.

'Crouch, pet. Bent forward. Arse in the air. That's right.' I do as I am told leaning on my fore arms ass in the air. he strokes me starting at my hair then along my spine to my ass carressing the cheeks before removing his hand. 'It's time for a meal. Pasta spirals with vegetables and a tossed salad. Dry white wine. I shall eat mine here at the table. You'll eat yours from your two bowls at my feet. You may not use your hands. Lick and suck it up, pet.'

Eat like an animal? I can smell it near me, my stomach gurgles at the aroma of the freshly cooked food. If I do this I can't turn back.

Its time ......

The person I was can no longer exist. To learn to live I must leave her behind. I am property, I have a collar and a master who has not hurt me. There is food , I am safe. She is gone.

I nose around and find the bowl. Pushing my hair out the the way I lap up a few of the pasta spirals. The flavor is heaven. I hear him sigh. For some odd reason it pleases me, the sound of his releif. I go back to eating hungrly enjoying, no longer afraid of making noise as I eat the food and lap up the wine.

I feel his hand reach under me and then the rubber dildo as it begins to enter me. I turn to look at him wanting for some reason to see a smile on his face, remembering I am still blind. No matter I can feel it that he is happy so I return to my dinner eating as he slowly fucks me with the dildo and we eat in silence.

I finish the food and am still lapping up the wine when i realize my hips at some point have started to rock up and down in time to his hands movements with my toy. It is not just a dildo or the end of the chain attached to my collar its mine, there to bring me pleasure, to give him pleasure in using it on me. The wine is gone and i am full and content. I can feel the heat building with every stroke he takes. I moan hearing him chuckle in responce. I rest my head on my arms, ass still in the air rocking up and down, up and down in time......

 

[patrick1]

his instructions

'That's right pet, cum for your master, cum for yourself, cum for the sheer joy of it...'

And I push the rubber into her, out of her, into her, out of her, as she rocks, as she moans, as at last my free hand reaches underneath her and and my thumb and forefinger find her clitoris, 'Cum, pet, cum...'

 

[flaming]

becoming attached

The sound of his voice and the touch of his hand are all it takes to make me cum. I feel the waves of pleasure as my insides, my cunt contracts around my toy. I moan loudy. Without a thought as to whether I should or I shouldn't I reach back and put my hand on his where its still rubbing me, making my orgasim longer then if he'd simply stopped. I don't want to stop him nor do i want to keep him there. I only want to feel him. To touch his skin.

Only then does it occur to me I want him to touch me more and more. In a world of only dark, where touch and smell are my only links to the things around me. I want to be touched, I want him to stroke my hair, my body. I want him to fuck me.

At the thought of being fucked by him I begin to cum again. This time more intensly fed my my imagination, my hand tightens on him my cunt moving against his fingers. I feel completely out of control, and in a strange way free .

 

[patrick1]

a splayed, displayed pet

'Good pet. Good, good pet.'

It's difficult to calm her down. My hand, wet with her juices, smears her back, and she keeps riding, riding, driven by some dream perhaps, some demon, some unexpected joy within her.

'Shhhh, ssshhh...'

Finally, the rubber dildo still inside her, my hand stroking her hair softly, her body quietens.

I wait. I cup a little wine in my hand, and feed it to her. She laps it up, greedily.

I tug the dildo gently from her cunt, and take her chain from beneath her, and tug. She sighs, and crawls after me, over the carpet. Left, and a few steps, and left again on to lusher carpet. 'Kneel,' I say, and she doesn't seem to have to make herself remember, she immediately kneels up straight, legs apart, hands on her thighs, as I instructed her. 'Mouth open.' I place the rubber dildo, that will taste of her own desire to her, in her mouth.

She hears me shuffling some things about, perhaps. She waits.

'Here. There's a row of cushions beside you. Lie on them, on your back, your legs apart, your hands on your breasts.'

She obeys. There is a delicacy and grace about her, already, which I did not observe before. I wonder if she is fallling in love with the role I want her to play. I take the dildo from her mouth, and unclip it, and set the chain to one side. She feels rope at her right ankle. I fasten each ankle to each end of a two foot spreader bar, forcing her legs wide apart. Then I lift the spreader bar until her legs are taut, in a vertical plane. There is a ring in the ceiling, to which I fasten a rope from the center of the spreader bar. I don't bother to explain to her: she will only know her stretched helplessness, and soon, discomfort - perhaps pain.

I crouch beside her. I fasten rope around her left wrist. 'I shall relax now...collect my e-mail...read a little, perhaps...I want to have you to admire whenever I want,' and I tie her left wrist to her left thigh, near the top. I fasten another piece of rope round her right wrist. 'You may speak if the suffering of your posture becomes too great. But not if it hurts just a little, or a reasonable amount. I need you to suffer for me.' I bind her right wrist to her right thigh. All her hands can do is move a few inches: to touch her upper leg, or her cunt, gaping, because of her stretched, bound legs. 'You may caress yourself. And here - here is a whip.' Between her breasts I place the handle of a cat o'nine tails. I spread the leather tails of the whip out over her belly. 'While I'm relaxing, I want you to think about whether you've been a good pet for me today. Should you be whipped for any misdemeanours, or lack of striving? I shall ask you when I unfasten you. It will be entirely up to you, whether you are whipped or not.'

Her mouth opens. But I have given her no mechanism to speak, except to report her pain. She closes her mouth. I open my laptop at my desk. I look at her. It will be hard to focus on my work. But I really must catch up on things...oh, how sexy she looks...

 

[flaming]

Learning Pain.

Its been so long since I'd eaten let alone drank anything that I find the wine has gone to my head some. I feel complicent, the dildo in my cunt has already started to feel like it belongs there. He pulls it out and tugs on my leash, I sigh and follow blindly going from tile to carpet and then to a deeper piled solter carpet. He stops and commands me in one word. "kneel"

Quickly I obay standing on my knees, legs apart, hands on hips.

"Open mouth" again I obey instantly. A small part of my mind rebells as my toy is placed in my open mouth, but i push it deep down, I made my choice the only choice I could. My toy tastes of me, of my passion. Its flavor combines with the after taste of the wine in a strange combination. It makes me ache slightly inbetween my legs, wanting for it to be in me again.

'Here. There's a row of cushions beside you. Lie on them, on your back, your legs apart, your hands on your breasts.' I move to obey with an ease born of wine and surrender.

He removes the dildo and unclips the chain from my collar, I can hear his deft movements as he sets the chain aside and moments later I feel my ankles being secured to something metal. Surprise flares in my mind when the bar spreads pushing my legs wide appart. I feel my muscles in my upper inner theighs respond in discomfort at the severness of it. They are lifted in the air making me very uncomfortable. I want to say it hurts, but I know he must already know this.

He crouches next to me taking my hand in his then securing it to my upper leg while explaining what he needs to do while I am kept here like this. He gives me leave to speak if the pain becomes unbearable, but his words are also a warning not to speak out unless it really is unbearable. He repeats the action tieing my other hand to my other leg.

'You may caress yourself. And here - here is a whip.' He places the handle of a cat o nine tails between my breasts. then spreads the leather tails of the whip out over my belly. 'While I'm relaxing, I want you to think about whether you've been a good pet for me today. Should you be whipped for any misdemeanours, or lack of striving? I shall ask you when I unfasten you. It will be entirely up to you, whether you are whipped or not.'

My mouth opens, then closes, he has only given me permission to speak if the pain is overwelming. He moves away and I hear the sounds of him busy with things I can not see.

My legs and back are already hurting, the table on which I was tied for so long, crawling on my hands and knees and now being exposed and displayed all combine to bring on the pain sooner then if this had been the only thing done to me.

Time passes slowly, it doesn't crawl but still it feels like i've been hanging a long time. I hurt. I used my fingers to play with myself, to try to keep my mind off the throbbing of my back and legs. They are already growing numb at the feet from hanging. my finger touches the 'tail' of the whip drawing my thoughts to what will happen when he has finished his work.

I know I could say no, that I hadn't done anything wrong, but I would be judging it by my standards, but it was his standards that applied not mine. Even in pain if I remeber speaking out in the hall before dinner, I am sure he has not forgotton. I don't want to be punished, I can't even imagine how it will feel to be struck with that whip. I realize I made a mistake, but I do not regret it, that is what makes me human and if he had wanted a dumb beast he would have bought a dog instead.

A small moan escapes my lips. Silence he has stopped to see if I will speak out. I am silent and he returns to his work. I will admit to my failures and take the pain as I am now. How quickly I've fallen under his spell, I wonder if this was not my secret wish when I arranged to leave my old life.

Suggenly a sever cramp grips my right caf making me cry out. "oh god a charlie horse. My leg is cramping, please, please help me. Please ." I thrash about trying to bend my toes towards my knee to realise the knot in my muscle, but with my feet numb I cant do it. ....

 

[patrick1]

the sadist in him

I move to her as soon as I hear her pleas. It's a matter of moments to release the hook to the spreader bar. And then it takes a moment longer, I realize I need a knife to cut the rope quickly at her right ankle, I have a paper knife in my desk and reach for it but it takes two, three gos, and she's crying out with the cramp, before I cut thought the rope. Her left ankle falls to the ground with a bump, still attached to the spreader bar. I take hold of her right foot. 'Try to relax, pet, push against me.' I keep the leg straight, bend the foot, and push. 'Push,' I say, and she pushes, and I push, and her spasms subside. Telling her to push her leg against my belly, I move her foot there, and massage the calf muscle, feel the knot, ease it gently, gently.

Desire seizes me unepectedly. She lies there, nude, open, blind. I lay her right leg gently down on the cushions. I unfasten the rope from her left ankle. I undo the torn fragments of rope at her right ankle. 'I'm getting some water for you.' I go to the kitchen, and return with a big glass. She is craning her neck, as if listening for my return. My desire for her hasn't abated. Not now, not now. 'Here, on your side.' The whip, almost forgotten, falls from her as she turns. I touch her side, her shoulder, her back. It's magnetic, between my hand and her body; I want to touch her everywhere. I pour a little water into my cupped hand. 'Here, drink.'

She laps up the water, and I stroke her hair, and cup more water in my hand, and have her drink.

I massage her feet, both her calves, her thighs. I give her more water.

'You must stand for your whipping, pet. Are you ready?'

'May I have a minute?'

I stroke her legs; rub them again. How sore her body must be. 'After this, it'll be time to rest. A bowl of mint tea, and rest. Ready?'

'Ready.'

'Stand up, legs straight and apart, your hands on your knee-pads.'

I'd thought she might shiver but she seems almost calm, as she stands, for the first time in a long time, only to bend forward immediately, obediently.

I have her stand there, waiting. I don't say anything.

One minute passes. I dangle the tails of the whip on her buttocks, and she squeals, and her body shivers.

I let thirty long seconds pass, then dangle the tails again. 'Tell me, pet, what you should be whipped for, and how many times you should be whipped. You may not ask for more than five. Then ask me to whip you, and thank me after the blow, and ask me to whip you again until the count is completed. Tell me...'

I don't caress her. These are moments she must bear. Must allow the sadist in me to enjoy. If she is to be truly my pet...

 

[flaming]

a pain filled spirit

'You must stand for your whipping, pet. Are you ready?' his words surprise me. I thought he would ask me if I should be punished, thought he said it would be my decision.

There had been a change in him in the past few minutes. His voice from the time he left to get the water held an edge of nervousness that was not there before.

'May I have a minute?' I asked as he began to stroke my legs; rubbing them again.

'After this, it'll be time to rest. A bowl of mint tea, and rest. Ready?'

'Ready.'

'Stand up, legs straight and apart, your hands on your knee-pads.'

I obeyed without question, knowing now that there had been no choice. Bending forward I place my hands on my knees.

I wait and wait scard but not allowing it to show. I hear a small intake of breath a moment before the tips of the whip touch my bear ass. A yelp escapes my lips and my body involuntarly shakes in anticipated fear.
Again I wait tensing when again his breath quickens and the tails of the whip make gentle contact with my ass.

'Tell me, pet, what you should be whipped for, and how many times you should be whipped. You may not ask for more than five. Then ask me to whip you, and thank me after the blow, and ask me to whip you again until the count is completed. Tell me...'

I can't tell how long he will give me to reply. My mind quickly searches for some reason, some answer.

Is five the limit he believes I can endure, or is it the limit he feels he can endure before loosing himself in my pain. The quckening of his breath, the change in how he spoke to me after letting me down. I begin to think my punishment is more than a way to train, I think it is a form of masterbation for him. He well enjoy what he does next.

That in mind I disguard trying to limit him to two. It will not be enough for him and I might suffer for it later. But three could be almost too much for my already bruised and weakened body to endure. In a way this is a game. A very dangerous game to which I must partake.

I take a deep unsteady breath and let it out.

"Four." I state simply. One for the lapses when I almost spoke. One for the time I did speak with out permission, One for touching you without permission and One for being weak, making you stop your work before you had finished.

My hands clenched onto my knees trying to steady myself for the blows to come. Had I seen the whip instead of only felt its size and weight as it laided on me I might have been more afraid.

"Punish me please."

I could almost imagine how he must have smiled when presented with the number of times he would use the whip. How his heart must be racing with anticipation and need to feel the power he held over me.

Pain seared through me when the first lash landed. Each tail of the whip welting a portion of the sensitive flesh as it made contact. Welts rising instantly as I cried out unable to stop the sounds of pain mixed with fear. I stumbled forward a step before steading myself again. I had been wrong in thinking three might be my limit, I didn't know if I could endure two.

"No, Please....."

 

[patrick1]

the end of punishment

My left hand against her back adjusts her posture: her, bent forward, nude and blind for me. Then I transfer the whip to my left hand, and she shivers when I lightly touch her spine with its tendrils. My right palm softly touches her buttocks. My fingertips trace the vivid red line of each welt.

'You deserve no punishment, pet. You've been brave...generous...sensual...trusting.'

My fingertips, at her buttocks. The trailing tails of my whip, at her back.

'But I believe you could bear two. One more lash. Not for your punishment; but for my pleasure.'

My fingers, from touching her buttocks, cup together. Between her legs, from behind, I push up my hand against her warm cunt.

'I should like you to ask me to whip you once more. To thank me for the first lash, to request the second, to thank me for the second when it's done. Merely for my pleasure. To satisfy my sadistic appetites.' My hand pushes a little harder against her cunt. I hear a different timbre in my voice. 'But I will think no less of you if you ask me not to whip you any more tonight.'

It seems there are more words on the air. Things unspoken. But that's all I say. I take my right hand from her cunt, and shift the whip back to it. I let the tails dangle against her buttocks. She's my dream become flesh: quivering, whipped flesh. My pet. My pet who speaks at last -

 

[flaming]

Pain, Pleasure, and arousal

I feel him behind me, steading me, helping me to insure I do not fall. The whip moves into the hand at my back, sending flares of fear when the ends touch my skin.

I shiver, but its not the fear which brings about the responce, its the light carress of his finders, tracing along each of the red welts as he speaks to me. His voice is sensual, full of the lust he feels from causing me pain. The touch of his fingers is causing both pain and pleasure...it hurts and yet it feels good.

Confusion, humilation, pain, fear, pleasure, arousal. Too much has happened for me to rashionaly think any longer. So my mind ceases to try.

...One more lash. Not for your punishment; but for my pleasure.'

His hand moves inbetween my legs, finding and touching my sex. Need flares in me. I feel pain as intense as the whip from the simple touching of my sex.

'I should like you to ask me to whip you once more. To thank me for the first lash, to request the second, to thank me for the second when it's done. Merely for my pleasure. To satisfy my sadistic appetites.' his hand pushes a little harder against my cunt.

I can hear the suppressed excitement in his voice 'But I will think no less of you if you ask me not to whip you any more tonight.'

I no longer even think I just do. I reach around grasping the whip in my hand as I stand straight up so he must take a step back. His hand releases the whip. I turn to him, the whip in my hand feeling the size and weight of it. running my fingers along the tails. I extend my hand to him and open it palm up, surrendering the whip back into his care.

"Thank you." I say softly barely above a whisper. 'Please strike me once again so you may feel the pleasure in my pain."

I turn my back to him, spread my legs apart farther then they were before, and bend over. My back lower, ass higher; I know he can see everything now. The curve of my ass, the tight pink pucker of my asshole, the slight spreading of vaginal lips and a hint of my cunt are all exposed to him.

I am ready.

 

[patrick1]

into the night

Her voice has taken on a softer tone. More - loving, almost. Affectionate: yes. How directly she suddenly looked at me. How widely she now exposes herself, bent forward and away from me. The pretty little wrinkles of her arsehole say, Touch me; the slight moistness of her cunt says, Enter me.

Louder, though, than these: the roundness and smoothness of her buttocks say, Whip me.

I take a step back. It will make the blow harder. Then I step forward and lash her buttocks with all the force I can muster.

A cry. A bigger noise, stifled. She begins to fall forward, yet her hands don't go out to stop herself, and I drop the whip and place my arms under her, taking some of her weight as she drops to her knees, her breasts and belly on my arms. She seems to collect herself, extracts her arms, is on all fours. I am still holding her, her flesh heaving in my grasp. My desire surges into her, I am sure, like electricity.

But there'll be a moment, when I take her for the first time, and it's not now. Not tonight.

I slap each whipped buttock lightly as I get up. I clip her chain to her collar. Without a word, I tug on the chain. Crawling, she follows.

<>

I'm affecting unconcern. It's fifteen minutes later, she crouches on the kitchen floor, lapping mint tea from her bowl. She can't of course see me. I'm turning over the pages of a newspaper as if I'm reading them. I want her. I want her.

<>

She's almost sobbing. I've taken her out into the courtyard. 'Come on now, last pee before bedtime.' It's obvious she hates this. She urinates on a patch of grass. I tug on her chain.

<>

The cool tiles of the bathroom. From her all-fours position she hears me pee, wash my face, clean my teeth. I'm behind her: my hands massage cream gently into the wounds on her arse. My fingertips trace each welt. Then I wash my hands, and crouch to her. 'I shall wash you in the morning. Mouth open.' My free hand in her hair. She's startled as the electric toothbrush begins inside her mouth. I take my time. Then I tug her to the faucet and tell her to spit. I cup a little water in my hand and have her gulp it, then spit again. I stroke her hair. I wipe her chin with a soft towel. By her chain, I lead her to the bedroom.

'On your back, pet.' I remove her chain, her collar, her pads. I lift her, arms under back and legs. Place her down on a futon. Beneath her head, a pillow.

Something metal clangs shut. My voice isn't close to her. 'You're in a cage. It's a long thin cage that I've placed on its side so you can rest full-length. It's not locked, you're quite safe. If you are afraid, if you think there's a fire, if you want to escape me, just open the door in front of you and jump out.' She feels the metal bars, above and to either side of her. 'Ropes either side of the cage are going to lift it in a moment. You'll be suspended beside my bed. If you wriggle your hand through the bars, you'll be able to touch me.'

The scrape of the ropes on the pulley. The cage ascends.

I lock the ropes in place at the wall and, in a few moments, I'm in my bed. It's I whose hand wriggles through the bars to touch her: I tease her left nipple for a moment, then withdraw my hand.

'You must be tired. Very tired. In the morning things will be different again. You'll have a name, perhaps. Learn more about me, or yourself. But for now, I'd like you to make love to yourself, until you can hear me sleeping. I want to go to sleep watching your body. Your lust. Goodnight, pet.'

The cage swings, just a little. She lies there, nude, suspended. The sound of our breathing. Only the sound of our breathing.

 

[flaming]

In the dark

I don't hear his movements nor am I ready for the blinding pain that surges through my ass sending fire into my limbs and mind. I cry out, then collapse unable to stopmyself. Strong arms stop me from hurting myself. My mind teaters between blinding pain and desire for the man holding me. How can I want him after he's hurt me so?

It's much later now and I've been lying in my bed, my cage waking from dreams, nightmares I can't remember. He had given me the tea and made me urinate outside again. Then put me to bed in a cage suspended next to his own bed. I was instructed to pleasure myself till he slept. I was surprised to find I still achieved an orgasim through the pain in my body.

My mind again is able to think and I wonder at the why's of my behavior. How many times has he told me I could leave, escape him. Why then did I stay. It's dark now, I could find something to cover myslef and make good my escape and avoid being found by the police and having to account for my condition.

I think back to the life I'd already planned to leave behind. The releationship that was a farce. He'd lived off of me for longer than I should have let it go on. Never holding a job for more than a few weeks at a time and making me feel guilty that he had to work so hard till I was almost releived when he lost it or quit.

He had taken little interest in the things I enjoyed, like my art. And in bed he made me feel I could never please him.

I sighed, realizing now the reason I stayed. because this is were I wanted to be.

I also knew I would not be able to sleep, the nightmare was still nagging in the back of my mind, making me uneasy. I moved my hand along the bars till I found the latch to open the cage. I opened it slowly slipping out and finding the floor with my foot. I lowered the door and got down on all fours. I felt for the end of the bed and carefully climbed up. I curled up there by his feet as a small sigh escaped me. I knew most likely I would face some sort of punishment for what I was doing, but at this moment I didn't care, I rested a hand on his foot and was finaly able to sleep.

 

[patrick1]

peace

How has she ended up here, in the bed, at my feet? How softly she must have moved.

Her hand on my foot. The cage, swinging empty beside us.

Later, I wake again, and reach down, and take hold of her hair. I sit up, and pull her up the bed. 'I don't want you to do anything...just...'

I place her head at my crotch. She seems to understand. She takes my erect penis into her mouth. I lie on my back, she's between my legs, on her side.

At peace, I stroke her hair. Soon, she seems to sleep again, and I sleep. Yes, peace.

 

[flaming]

Erotic Dreams

Later, I wake a hand in my hair urging me, pulling me up the bed. 'I don't want you to do anything...just...'

He rests my head in his crotch, next to his erect penis. He wants it in my mouth, I do as told feeling the warmth of it as well as the faint pulse which is the beating of his heart. I snuggle on my side between soft, warm legs able to feel the light sprinkling of hair on them. Safty....

A hand strokes my hair sending me back to sleep.

Dreams...Such erotic dreams I never knew were possible to have. I can't remember the details only the feelings assioated with them. I'm still nestled in the warmth of his lower body. My hand in between my own legs touching the wettness of my sex. Its sensitive and I relaize the orgasims of my dream state have transfered to my flesh.

My mouth feels sticky and there is an aftertaste in it that I do not associate with 'morning mouth' . Again the feelings of the dreams ignite in me. I must have done more than dream in my sleep.

The aches and pains in my body are much less now and i still feel tired. I move my hand from inbetween my legs and wrap my fingers gently around his semi hard shaft as I again find a peaceful sleep.

 

[patrick1]

who kneels for whom?

She's still asleep between my legs when a shaft of sunlight slats through the narrow gap between the curtains and wakes me. Of course: she's blindfolded and won't have been disturbed. I stroke her hair, lift her gently from me, and tiptoe out to the bathroom.

Soon I'm sitting in the kitchen, bleary-eyed. By what marvellous chance did I happen to acquire such a pet? Ah, yes: the other man, his need, her cries...

Perhaps she's just a dream, though, that'll be vanished when I return to the bedroom.

No, there she is, as I return to her with the tray. Curled up like a comma on the white sheet, her hands between her legs. She shows no fear, though she seems half-awake, her limbs moving slightly. 'I've brought tea. A fruit salad.' She begins to get up: 'There's no need to crawl today. Stand up for me.'

I put down the tray on the bedside table and, once she's standing, clip the collar round her neck; the chain to the collar; the dildo to the chain. touch her shoulder. I kiss her forehead. 'Follow me.' I lead her through to the bathroom. 'You may pee in the toilet today, here, feel for it behind you.'

There's still embarrassment, this time at my presence, I suppose, as she feels for the bowl, and squats, and pees. 'Nothing you can do or think is alien to me, you see. The paper's beside the toilet. Wipe yourself. Then I'll lead you to the faucet.'

Finally I lead her back to the bedroom. 'Lie on the bed where I can look at you. That's right. I'll kneel in front of you, this morning. You may use your hands for the tea, here, it's Earl Grey, they spice it with bergamot.' She lies on her side, I help her lift the cup to her mouth. 'Tell me when you need more.' I take the cup and feed her a spoonful of fruit salad: melon, raspberry, strawberry, grape on her tongue.

'Today you must stand tall, and proud, and be named, and indulge yourself. You see, I am an older man into whose dreams you've wandered. Now we must find where my dreams and your desires - however hidden they might have been even from you - where our wants meet.' I feed her a little more fruit. 'I should like to wash you soon, when we've eaten and drunk a little. And I should like you to see, when I begin to wash you. Are you ready to see again?'

I sip tea, and help myself to a spoonful of the fruit, drinking from the same cup, eating from the same spoon as her. I reach to touch her face, and wait...

 

[flaming]

A softer side of possession

I awaken feeling a shiver. The warmth of him is missing. I have no direction by which to know what I should do now so I lay there half asleep and half awake, hands tucked between my legs, my normal sleeping position.

It isn't long before I hear him enter the room. Today I will not have to crawl, I'm please at the news. Standing he puts the collar around my neck, cliping on the chain. A light tap on my shoulder is followed by a feather light kiss above my brow. Then I am lead out of the room. Funny I feel less sure about walking then I did crawling blindfolded, maybe because the floor was so much closer I didn't fear tripping and falling.

The bathroom. How I loathed the outside, but still some things have such strong taboos that they cause unease even in people who have been married for years. It seems we are alll trained in one way or another from the time we are born. Right, wrong, and what is acceptabel in polite sociaty. Control in subversive ways. I believe I think too much.

Back in the bedroom he has me lay on the bed so he may watch me. Another taboo I must try to unlearn, shame of ones own body. He helps me drink the tea, helps me eat the food. Furit one of my passions.

'Today you must stand tall, and proud, and be named, and indulge yourself. You see, I am an older man into whose dreams you've wandered. Now we must find where my dreams and your desires - however hidden they might have been even from you - where our wants meet.' He speaks as he feeds me a little more of the fruit. 'I should like to wash you soon, when we've eaten and drunk a little. And I should like you to see, when I begin to wash you. Are you ready to see again?'

There is a pause in which I can hear him drink and eat a little himself, then he touches me. So light his fingers feel against me. Desire flares....Not sexual in nature its the desire to discover. To see.

They say paint is a real artists medium. I disagree. The desire and excitement I feel anticipating my first view of this man are akin to how I feel when I first take a blank page from my skethcpad. Those first lines drawn in pencil, that to the observer are nothing, are to me the start of a creation. Each line making the image unfold, each shadow lending to the character, each detail slowly bring it to life. They are never perfect these images I don't believe they should be.

His hand has pulled away and again i hear him eating some of the fruit. My hand touches my face where his fingers were, I trace them down my cheek, chin and neck. Down further to my breast brushing the nipple as it grows hard from my own touch. I know he's watching, know he is enjoying the desert I give him with his breakfast.

I bend my knee and move it upwards on the topmost leg as my fingers slide down my belly and into my mound and below. A moan escapes as my fingers slowly explore myself by touch. Parts of my erotic dreams invade my mind fueling my self lust. Combined with memories of his touch, voice and even the way his breath held barely controled excitement when he used the whip. I slip my finger in and out then slide it back further to enter my ass and wimpering as I start to cum...to cum for his pleasure.