You think I've forgotten all about you, don't you? You think that I've been so busy with my own problems and concerns that I haven't given you a single thought.
You're such a silly slut. I haven't forgotten you. I remember every little thing about you, every last, humiliating little detail. I remember how easy it is for me to intimidate you; I remember exactly what causes you pain. And I remember that you were a bad boy. A very bad boy. I told you I would punish you when I see you. And I will.
Tell me: have there been moments recently when you have closed your eyes and conjured an image of me--so vivid you gasped, hungering to reach out and touch my ripe, fragrant flesh? How do you see me at those moments? Working at my PC, frowning in deep concentration? Relaxing in the bath, my long hair pinned up, my naked breasts capped by white foam? Or do you have another picture in mind? Perhaps you see me, regal and formidable, dressed in tight black latex and razor-sharp stilettoes. I'm standing in a dimly-lit room, surrounded by admirers. Just behind me stands a slave, wearing my collar and leash.
It must make you so jealous to know that others wear my collar and kneel at my feet. That they--not you--are close to me, so close they smell my perfume and feel my sexual heat, while you, poor you, are in exile from my good graces, the loneliest wretch who ever lived. At such moments you must feel as if your life is a Sahara and you are a mote of sand, helplessly lost without me. Perhaps you didn't even know how much you need me. Until now. Now I think you are beginning to realize that, without me, you are nothing. Without me, your true self does not exist.
Can you see your rival? I'm sure you can. Just close your eyes and you will see him on his knees before me, his soulful eyes lowered submissively. He is so young and so handsome and so feverishly eager to please ME. You can tell at a glance that he worships me as his goddess, that each minute away from me is more of an agony to him than these weeks and months have been to you. And you can't avoid noticing that his cock is helplessly erect, can you? It looks as if it's going to explode with excitement. It's so much bigger than yours, too, isn't it? It's massive. It stands straight up like a boy's, nearly bumping his belly. You'd give anything to have a cock that big and thick and stiff.
By the blush on his face and the way his cock is lurching, you know that he is desperate to cum. Just the sight of me, standing over him, a whip in my hand, is driving him to the edge. You know he's itching to touch himself. But he wouldn't dare to grab his cock without permission from me. No matter how swollen and painful his balls grow as they fill unbearably with cinem he doesn't dare move. When I lean over and grab his hair tightly to whisper cruel threats, he doesn't even dare to breathe.
Don't you wish you were in his place? Don't you wish you were feeling the pain when I slap the head of that swollen cock? Doesn't it make you shiver to imagine my girlish voice commanding you to lick my feet? How does it make you feel when you see him adoringly caress my firm white thighs and worship my ass? Doesn't it bother you to think that I have picked someone else to pleasure me? To know that he was chosen above you?
At such moments, you must feel very low. You would feel jealous--but you know you have no right to expect ME to limit myself. You know that it is my prerogative to take as many men as I want, whenever I want them. And I do. I do, slut. I take as many men as I please. I amuse myself with men the way you once amused yourself with toy soldiers. I collect them. I position them. I make them follow my orders. Sometimes I destroy them. And sometimes I get bored with them and just throw them away. Purely on whim.
And do you know where you rank on that endless list of eager soldiers who are dying to serve me? I'll tell you: you don't rank high. So you have no right to feel jealous. You should consider yourself lucky that I pay attention to you at all.
But...have you considered the possibility that I might not be spending time now with someone else? Perhaps I haven't been attending those outrageous private parties. Perhaps I have simply been biding time, waiting for the right moment to spring my next surprise on you. Perhaps I've been thinking very carefully about you and everything I know about you--the things that embarrass you, the things that frighten you. Perhaps I know that the longer I ignore you, the more you burn for my touch. By the time I am ready to see you, you will be so thoroughly pussywhipped you will beg to lick my heels like a dog, and you'll be grateful for the privilege.
And I do like a grateful man. A VERY grateful man.
But I'm in no rush. I understand the art of making you wait. Soon you will not be able to rid your mind of the image of yourself, utterly degraded by me, whimpering and weeping like a child, begging for the punishment you crave. Can you see yourself groveling at my feet, slut? Can you see me forcing you down to the floor and straddling your chest so that you are pinned helplessly beneath me? I'll bring my face so close to yours that my long black hair cascades over your ears and onto the floor, shrouding you in raven tresses. My lips will be so close to yours that you'll feel my moist breath on your face when I murmur my threats and insults. Another moment and you will feel my fingers dig cruelly into your crotch, ferociously pinching the head of your cock between my nails.
But a little cock torture...it's nothing. I have something far worse planned for you. I want you to think about that. I want you to dream about it at night. I want you to wake up sweating, your cock swollen in spite of--or is it because of?--your terror. Soon, you'll find that your thoughts begin drifting while you're at work, spinning uncontrollably towards me, as if I was WILLING your obsession and COMMANDING you to think of me. You'll start getting hard unpredictably, as you did in your teens. Uncontrollable erections occurring at all the wrong times and in all the wrong places; urges so overpowering that you feel as if I've cast a spell on you. And so I have.
Is your dick hard right now? I'll bet it is--but it's not hard enough to please me. Your dick isn't good enough for me. It isn't big enough. It isn't thick enough. It isn't stiff enough, either. It may be the biggest hard-on that you've ever had, but it could never satisfy my appetites. There's only one thing that can make your dick ADEQUATE. A whipping. I'm going to have to beat it with my cock-whip until it swells up, red and sore.
You can tug on that wormy thing all you want for now. Go ahead. It makes me laugh to think of you frantically rubbing your quivering member until cum splashes your thighs. You ARE needy, aren't you? And so horny! Jerking yourself off like a horny little boy! Maybe you'd like Mommy to pour a little oil onto your wee-wee to make it feel better? After all, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself! Hurting you is MY job. I have so many interesting techniques for making it hurt, too. I have an assortment of kitchen utensils that I reserve especially for this purpose. Small metal implements with sharp teeth that make you shriek when I press them into the head of your cock. Little steel wool pads, too, which I rub along the shaft and over your balls, and whose abrasions keep you in agony for days afterwards.
Perhaps by now you're beginning to understand that my silence has been a dangerous sign. That you were a fool to think that I would let you get away without suffering. It meant only that I am preparing some new and terrible torture for you, something that will push you harder than you've ever been pushed; something that will strip you more naked than you ever believed. I will do something that will cast an unmerciful spotlight on the secret places in your psyche that have never before been exposed.
Remember this: when you are with me, you will have to confess ALL your secrets. I will force you to confront precisely all those things you have kept hidden from everyone--yourself most of all. All those strange, fleeting fantasies you've struggled so hard to repress all your life: I have already guessed them, you pitiful creature. And when we're together, I'm going to take you there, right into the center of your worst nightmares.
Can you see it now, darling? Pretend you're watching a movie. Only in this movie, you are the star. It's what you've always craved: to be the star of your own little horror show. Can you see the look on your face when they come for you? Yes, they're coming: four muscular, broad-shouldered men in black leather, four bikers in tight jeans and heavy black boots, reeking of tobacco and beer. Can you see them now, forcing their way into your house when you answer the door? They'll surround you quickly, menacing looks on their stony, unshaven faces. Imagine how you'll feel, you sissy, when you are outnumbered and out manned, trapped by these hardened sadists who stare hungrily at you with wide grins as if they want to eat you alive. Imagine how you'll feel when you nervously peek at the crotches of their jeans and see their dicks are already swollen and heavy with lust.
They will close in on you and bind your wrists roughly with rope and then tie up your ankles, striking you and cuffing you as you writhe, unable to fight them off. When they throw you to the floor, trussed tightly, your heart will be pounding so hard you'll think it's going to burst from your chest. But as you lie on the floor, whimpering in fear, you'll hear a fifth pair of boots enter the room. You'll inhale a whiff of Shalimar; you'll hear a soft melodious voice purr, "Well, doesn't he look vulnerable!" And you'll know it's me.
Then you'll understand that I sent them. But why? For what purpose? Are you being kidnapped? Or was this just a little mindfuck to put you in the mood? You won't have much time to think because the next thing you'll feel is a feminine hand reaching beneath you and hastily unbuckling your belt. You'll feel the belt pulled roughly from its loops, and seconds later the cold smooth blades of steel shears will glide inside the waist of your pants. You'll gulp audibly as you feel the seat being cut away, leaving a large gaping hole that exposes your thin cotton underwear. And then you will feel the scissors snip a straight line from your spine to just beneath your balls until, at last, your ass is completely exposed.
Even with your face buried in the floor you KNOW there are five people looking down at you, staring down at that naked cherry ass. Four of them are men; and one of them is the woman who wants to hurt and humiliate you. Your bondage is so tight that when you attempt to wriggle away you only succeed in pulling the fabric a little wider apart, making your ass stick out all the more. By our loud laughter and jeers, you know we're enjoying the spectacle of your utter degradation, that we are scrutinizing your trembling cheeks and the dark crack that runs between them.
"Put up the swing," you hear me say. You don't understand what I'm talking about at first, but an agonizing shudder courses through you when the soles and heels of those biker boots begin moving around you. When you hear a drill whir loudly over your head, you may try to roll onto your back to see what's going on. Don't bother. I will dig my high heel into your spine and growl, "Don't even consider it!"
How many hours will pass as you wait, unable to contain the spasms of fear that shake you from head to foot, making your teeth chatter, making your stomach knot up and your throat grow dry? It will feel like years. It will feel like centuries. And the whole time you will be conscious that your ripe, ready, virgin ass is open to any assault. How your pulse will race when you hear me issue another soft command to my henchmen. "Put him in it," I'll order them, "And make sure he's tied securely. We don't want him getting away."
You don't even have time to fathom what I'm saying before you are lifted aloft by eight powerful arms, turned about and hoisted quickly on your back into a leather bondage swing. Each man takes charge of a limb, untying the ropes only to wrench your ankles and wrists wide apart, buckling you spreadeagle into the leather restraints that are attached to the four corners of the swing. They work intently, dragging your limbs so far apart you think they will split you in quarters, fastening the buckles tightly and inserting steel locks through their latches to ensure that you can't escape.
Every so often, the men pause to leer at you and to exchange a crude joke, commenting on your juicy virgin asshole, talking about your moist, quivering lips, and whispering to you about all the ways they're going to use them. I am walking around the swing in slow circles, inspecting their work, and giving them little orders. "Tighter," you hear me say. "Push him down further so his asshole is completely exposed." "Make sure his neck is well-supported so he'll be able to suck cock for hours."
If you were afraid before, my words will put you in a panic. You may thrash wildly in your bonds but your efforts are pointless. You are completely immobilized. You are a prisoner of that swing. The harder you try to escape the more its supple straps will sway and twist, until you feel as if you are being spun through the air, free of gravity, unable to control the movements of your own limbs. Your arms and legs don't belong to you any more than your asshole belongs to you. Remember that, slut. You are MINE, in every possible way. That pitiful little thing you call a dick is MINE. That puckered hole between your cheeks is MINE. Your feverish brain is MINE. And I'm going to use every part of you to amuse myself.
"Snake, you take him first," I order. The tallest of the four men walks between your legs and stares down at you. His straight, oily black hair hangs down to his shoulders; deep acne pits pock his cheeks. If you ever came face to face with him on a deserted street, you would run. But you can't flee him now. You can't protect yourself from what he is about to do. I am offering you up to him like a fish on a hook. And you will be a fish on his hook, won't you, whore? You'll flop around like a big fat fish when his thick cock skewers you.
When you see him reach for his fly and massage the massive bulge, making it even bigger, you'll begin to cry. A malicious grin will light his evil face as you turn crimson and wriggle in anguish before him. Snake will stand there, laughing at you, and pull his throbbing red slippery dick out of his pants. How you will wail then! How you will dance in your bonds! The sight of that gigantic purple head will make you swoon with fear. It LOOKS like a snake! A huge, vicious snake about to slither inside you. And you are so vulnerable! So rigidly bound! You can't defend yourself. You can't cover your ass this time, can you, sissy? Your asshole is public property, for Me and my friends to use.
I can already hear your howls for mercy, your piteous sobs as you plead with me to release you from this hell. And when your bellows have subsided into miserable squeals of defeat, he will laugh one final time at you and turn away indifferently, to return to the sofa where the rest of us are sitting.
You're confused, you're shaken, you don't understand what just happened. You are so absurdly happy that it wasn't worse that tears of gratitude fill your eyes. But a few minutes later when I say, "Captain, it's your turn," the nightmare will begin again. A stocky blond with pale blue eyes and a scar on his neck, will step up to you. He will plant his hands on either side of you, gripping the leather straps, and gruffly whisper, "You ready to be fucked, faggot?"
You'll shriek in terror then, a terror that will double when your audience guffaws. We are ENJOYING your pain. We want to see you in even MORE pain. This revelation is like a stinging blow and, again, you writhe and twist in your bonds, desperate to escape your fate. But there is no escaping me, slut. I won't let you escape. You belong to me. I have put you in that swing. And when it spins back and forth, you will grow dizzy and weak, and you will bawl like a baby because you know you are as helpless as one.
One after another, I send the men to you, to terrorize you, to flaunt their bloated bull-dicks at you, to warn you about the fucking you're going to get. They pinch you and probe you, slapping your ass and your face, pressing their hairy mouths to yours and thrusting their rancid tongues down your throat. Again and again we laugh when you whimper and groan and beg frantically to be released. At one point you squirm so violently that your balls pop out of your shredded pants and hang vulnerably off the swing. How we laugh at you then! Your balls bobble helplessly and, a second later, your dick falls out too. When the next man steps up to you, he grasps your shaft in his beefy fist and twists it brutally, jacking it. There is nothing you can do to stop him. Nothing at all. You hear yourself pleading with him like a sniveling coward, like a degraded sissy slut, begging him in a high-pitched squeal to take pity on you. But he won't. Not as long as he's following MY orders.
After two hours of such torment, you are exhausted. You don't have the energy to fight any more. When Snake returns to you for the third time, he coldly reports your condition. "His mind is right now," he drawls. "He's whipped."
You gaze up at me dully, your mind overloaded, when I come up beside him and peer down at you. "He's positively DOCILE," I sneer. "There's no fight left in him." Then I turn my back on you. "He's ready to be fucked," I snicker. "Snake, take him however you want, but take him HARD."
This time when the leatherman pulls his swollen prick out of his pants, your throat is so sore from screaming that you cannot make a noise. You watch him, paralyzed with anxiety, as pulls a tube of K-Y gel out of his pocket and squeezes a large dollop in his palm. He slathers it generously, slowly, sensuously over the head of his cock, gazing straight into your eyes with murderous lust. Your dick has shriveled so far it looks like it wants to crawl up inside you. It's just a wrinkled little button, a useless flap of limp flesh. By the looks of it, it'll never be hard again.
But when Snake greases his fingertips and begins lubricating your asshole, that dead worm between your legs awakens against your will. You clench your jaw so hard that sweat pours down your face but still your dick expands, inch by humiliating inch, as he jams his blunt fingers into your aching hole. You know he's done this before. You know how much he enjoys doing it. He works his fingers deftly inside you, stretching you out expertly, pushing his hand in deeper and deeper, until you think you can almost feel his nails in your belly.
By the time he's filled your ass all the way up with the sticky gel, your lust-crazed dick will be bigger and harder than it's ever been.
Think of your saintly mother. Think of the normal, decent people who work with you. What would they think, if only they knew? What would they would say if they knew that you really WANTED to be here? And what would your father think?
Nothing can stop your dick from responding to him now. He is opening you up, boy. He is opening you up WIDE. You're his wide-open pussy now. And your flesh is too weak to resist the painful ecstasy of those invasive, degrading caresses. This was the forbidden fantasy you could never admit to yourself. And now I have made it your reality.
I will watch every minute of this. I will study your reactions. I will see how hard it's making you. I will see the thousand different expressions that pass over your face--from horror to euphoria. I will relish this vision of your debasement.
A wave of shame turns your flesh to fire when you realize how transparent you are. You like it, don't you slut? It's what you really want--to be used like a whore by other men. To have your virgin hole stretched out in a biker gang-bang, while I laugh at you, and tell you what a sissy you are. I'm SURE it isn't the first time someone has called you a sissy. I've known all along that your ass is your cunt and that you need a good fucking to straighten your mind out. And now I'm giving you that fucking, slut. I am giving it to you in aces.
I can imagine how you'll cringe when Snake flexes his knees a little and finally starts loading that massive dick into you. You'll think that you won't be able to take it. You'll feel as if he's going to tear you apart. Your chest will heave with dry sobs as his prick ruthlessly thrusts deeper, and deeper, and deeper inside of you, barreling into your guts. How will you feel when that turgid cock is lodged deep in your asshole? You'll feel then as if you will die. This is your nightmare! This is your most terrifying fantasy!
Or is it?
Perhaps there's even more. Perhaps, just at that moment, when you feel that you have been utterly degraded, utterly diminished; just when you think you could not possibly be more disgraced, you will hear me coo, "Captain, give him something hard to suck on." And then you'll hear me giggle, because I see that your dick lurched wildly at my words.
Will you find just a little more resistence within yourself just then? Will you try, one final time, to break free of your bonds? Or, when Captain walks to the top of the swing and slowly rubs the plump head of his dick back and forth across your mouth, teasing your trembling lips apart with it while he holds your head firmly in place, will you simply part your teeth obediently and accept the degradation I am giving you?
I think you will open your mouth. I think you will open it wide. I think that, by then, you will be hungry to suck dick. By then, you will finally accept that you have no choice but to go along with this. I think you will CRAVE to go along with it. Suddenly you will remember my warning: I told you that I was angry with you. I told you I will punish you severely. And I told you that it would be something you would NOT enjoy. It's too late now to pretend that you didn't understand. I warned you, from the start, that I'm a BITCH. You've known all along that I would push you to the edge and make you suffer true torment. And that is why you are so helplessly, obsessively in love with me, isn't it?
The more you accept and understand that everything that is happening to you is the result of MY will, the more you will submit. You will open your mouth as wide as a whore and gratefully lick that dripping wet dick as if it was a lollipop I'd just stuck in your mouth. You will stretch your thighs just a little further to accommodate Snake's gigantic rod. You will raise your ass so that he can pump it even deeper into your asshole and you will wiggle your hips like a slut so you can give him a hot, slutty ride. When the other two men take their turns with you, you will be even MORE submissive, even MORE docile.
I will order the first one, a heavy-set man with a beard, to pinch your nostrils until you are gasping for air and then to ram his elephant dick into your mouth. Then he will grab the swing and rock you back and forth, pumping your drooling mouth up and down on his shaft. I will tell the fourth man, a short, slender, boyish blond with wide, girlish lips, to suck you off. "I want to train him to come with a dick in his mouth," I'll say calmly. And you'll realize it isn't enough for me to degrade you; I want to force you to LOVE being degraded. You'll feel the icy scissor blades slide up over your genitals as I snip away the front of your pants, leaving you even more exposed than before.
Do you know what you will do then? I do. You will obey. You will obey me and my henchmen unquestioningly. You will do everything we tell you to do. You will feel the androgynous man go down on your cock and pull it into his mouth, sucking you steadily with wet, kissing noises. You'll feel him lick you up and down, flicking his tongue in places no girl has ever touched, while the man standing by your head pumps his dick into your face over and over again, using your mouth like a come toy. And you will respond exactly as I want you to. You will drink in the come that the first man squirts down your throat; and the moment you start to swallow his sticky white scum your balls will overflow and jets of hot cream will shoot from your dick and into your cocksucker's waiting mouth.
It will feel so good, too. The come will drain out of you violently, as if a boil had been lanced in your soul. You won't even know what it is that is getting you off: is it that sloppy dick filling your mouth with hot come? Is it the fairy's moist lips nibbling your cock? Maybe it's the pleasurable soreness in your ass from your very first fucking. Or maybe it's because I am ORDERING you to come, FORCING you to relinquish all control, RAPING your mind.
All you know is that you are consumed by a tidal wave of ecstasy that washes through your brain with such intensity that you couldn't stop yourself from coming even if you wanted to. But you don't want to, do you, slut? Oh, no. You want to come. You NEED to come. Your whole body now is nothing but a large, aching DICK that MUST get relief. You can't control your frenzied need to spurt gob after gob of sticky come wherever I tell you to spurt it.
You will do it because I COMMAND you to do it. You will do it because you can't satisfy me any other way. You will do and be exactly what I want you to do and to be. If I want to make you my buttfucked whore; if I want you to be my thirsty cocksucker; if I want you to be used as a sex doll by cruel, repulsive men, then that is exactly what will happen to you. You can't resist ME. You can't fight ME. I've got you pussywhipped, boy. I've read your mind. I am so deep inside your mind now that you couldn't get rid of me even if you tried.
I am inside your mind and that is where I am going to stay. I am going to keep on controlling you, and tormenting you, and mind-raping you and laughing at you until you finally realize that I am the prison you will never escape. I have closed in on you with suffocating powers. I will keep driving you to your limits and beyond, until you THANK ME for the trouble I've taken to teach you a lesson you'll never forget.
"You Will Be Punished," copyright © 1997 Gloria G. Brame, was adapted for inclusion in DOMINA. Publication or distribution without the written permission of the author is strictly forbidden.