MsWhip-Atlanta
10-19-2006, 06:04 PM
Light, Darkness, Despair
Light
He was thrilled. There was a car in the parking lot. When he had confirmed the location of the meeting earlier the lot was empty. Now, at the appointed time, there was a car. She was there. The gnawing in the pit of the stomach that precedes a performance or a competition began. He also felt fear.
She answered the door and the sight of her entranced him. She was very pretty and in her dominatrix black she exuded a sensuality that overwhelmed him. He had been in the company of beautiful women before, but nothing compared to the effect she produced. The world around him collapsed and centered on her. She was the absolute focus of his thoughts. She was both necessary and untouchable.
He confessed that he could not take his eyes off the delight that was her. And she - with the gentle acknowledgment that such worship was her due - bade him to kneel before her. She questioned him in a tone that was almost friendly. He felt he shared intimate thoughts with a trusted counselor.
Then she had him stand and strip before her. She examined his nakedness and cast him into the role of a whore. Helpless before her and overpowered by her sexuality, he could but obey as she ordered him to the cross.
Darkness
Blindfolded and shackled to the cross, he realized the certain truth that what was to transpire would be for her pleasure, not his. Blinded he was denied even the pleasure of gazing upon her knee-weakening sexiness.
Then she began to do ... things ... to him. He wondered if she smiled as she attached the vibrator to his cock. Did she quiver with anticipation as she experimented with flogging and whipping him? She admitted she enjoyed the use of electroshock. Did she lick her lips as she attached the electrode? As the shocks began, did she find his struggles satisfying?
His body strained and writhed as a metallic stinger was run over his flesh. The feeling was terrible: part itch (almost pleasurable) and part needle-like piercing.
Despair
It seemed she tired of toying with him. It was time for him to understand how he must really pleasure her.
Clips were applied to his nipples with slow deliberation. She let him linger as each new level of pain peaked. Then she increased the intensity of the torture with a new, stronger clip. His body sent messages to flee the torment, but bound to the cross he could only twitch in pain.
Then she was commanding him to cum. To be helpless, degraded, naked, and tortured were not enough ... she wanted him, in the ultimate demonstration of helplessness and humiliation, to cream himself in front of her.
He failed to cum on command. He knows now how it pleasures her to control her captive in this way. He knows he needs to learn to give himself up to her in this way.
She has bewitched him. He is now her torture-slave to be sacrificed on the sex rack of her desires.
She populates an entire pantheon. She is the goddess of his dark world. She is the goddess of beauty. She is the goddess of sex. She is the goddess of pain. She is the goddess of his despair.
Light
He was thrilled. There was a car in the parking lot. When he had confirmed the location of the meeting earlier the lot was empty. Now, at the appointed time, there was a car. She was there. The gnawing in the pit of the stomach that precedes a performance or a competition began. He also felt fear.
She answered the door and the sight of her entranced him. She was very pretty and in her dominatrix black she exuded a sensuality that overwhelmed him. He had been in the company of beautiful women before, but nothing compared to the effect she produced. The world around him collapsed and centered on her. She was the absolute focus of his thoughts. She was both necessary and untouchable.
He confessed that he could not take his eyes off the delight that was her. And she - with the gentle acknowledgment that such worship was her due - bade him to kneel before her. She questioned him in a tone that was almost friendly. He felt he shared intimate thoughts with a trusted counselor.
Then she had him stand and strip before her. She examined his nakedness and cast him into the role of a whore. Helpless before her and overpowered by her sexuality, he could but obey as she ordered him to the cross.
Darkness
Blindfolded and shackled to the cross, he realized the certain truth that what was to transpire would be for her pleasure, not his. Blinded he was denied even the pleasure of gazing upon her knee-weakening sexiness.
Then she began to do ... things ... to him. He wondered if she smiled as she attached the vibrator to his cock. Did she quiver with anticipation as she experimented with flogging and whipping him? She admitted she enjoyed the use of electroshock. Did she lick her lips as she attached the electrode? As the shocks began, did she find his struggles satisfying?
His body strained and writhed as a metallic stinger was run over his flesh. The feeling was terrible: part itch (almost pleasurable) and part needle-like piercing.
Despair
It seemed she tired of toying with him. It was time for him to understand how he must really pleasure her.
Clips were applied to his nipples with slow deliberation. She let him linger as each new level of pain peaked. Then she increased the intensity of the torture with a new, stronger clip. His body sent messages to flee the torment, but bound to the cross he could only twitch in pain.
Then she was commanding him to cum. To be helpless, degraded, naked, and tortured were not enough ... she wanted him, in the ultimate demonstration of helplessness and humiliation, to cream himself in front of her.
He failed to cum on command. He knows now how it pleasures her to control her captive in this way. He knows he needs to learn to give himself up to her in this way.
She has bewitched him. He is now her torture-slave to be sacrificed on the sex rack of her desires.
She populates an entire pantheon. She is the goddess of his dark world. She is the goddess of beauty. She is the goddess of sex. She is the goddess of pain. She is the goddess of his despair.