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Click hereThis story was written for the 2024 Literotica 750 Word Challenge. Below this line are exactly 750 words.
He tugged experimentally, but he had fitted the tube-and-clamp scaffolding well. He was held helplessly bent, chest comfortably supported but ass and thighs exposed.
"You haven't done anything to deserve this, except confess to me your fantasies of total slavery. I'm not convinced you understand what that means. Today, we'll do some experiential learning."
She pushed a gag into his mouth and pulled the straps tight. A few pumps filled his mouth.
"This will be an adjustment for me too. I need to stop thinking of you as a person, with thoughts and feelings. You'll wear this until I make that transition."
The hood had two tiny holes for his nose and microperforations over his eyes. From more than a foot away, it looked featureless. He could only imagine how the black latex swallowed his face. It would obscure all expression, all identity. All humanity.
She wrapped his fingers around the bell. "You'll always have a safeword. I won't lose my most valuable possession to some silly accident. Swing that."
He did. It took a long, deliberate flick of his wrist to make the clapper sound.
"That stops the---I almost said the scene, but I guess it's not a scene anymore. Speaking of adjustments. It stops the beating, anyway. If you're choking or something, we'll fix that before we continue."
Unsaid was what would happen if he chose not to continue. She was upending their lives to do him this favor. She would only allow him one chance.
Now she stepped in front of him. She twirled, as if modeling her baggy T-shirt, sweatpants, and slippers. She grinned. "Don't worry, I do like strutting around in heels and a corset. But for this first time I need to make the point. We're doing this for my pleasure, not yours. Nod if you understand."
He nodded.
"Then we'll begin."
The cane swished through the air. It bit deep into his ass. He didn't even scream. The air simply whooshed from his lungs. Perhaps he gasped.
Then the pain came. A line of fire laid him open to the bone. He jerked convulsively. A long shuddering wail escaped him. Tears blurred what vision the hood allowed.
"Yeah, no warm-up," she remarked. "Warm-ups are for people."
With that, she laid into him again. And again. He sobbed breathlessly. He could feel blood pouring down his legs.
"That was six," she announced. "Take a moment. Think about that bell."
He had forgotten the bell. He sounded vigorous, desperate peals.
She rolled the hood up and removed the gag. Long ropes of snot and drool fell down. "I'm bleeding!" he choked out.
"You pissed yourself," she corrected him. "Anything else?"
He looked down. The tiles swam before his eyes, but he saw no red.
"How many more?"
She replaced gag without answering. The beating resumed. There was nothing erotic about it. She simply hit him, again and again, every blow brutally hard. He screamed and thrashed. He begged. He cried. Finally, he lay limp in his bonds, barely twitching.
Satisfied, she removed the gag. "Enough. Spit. Blow."
She held each nostril for him. Her motions were businesslike, as if servicing a machine. She did not bother to wipe his nose or his eyes before she rolled the hood back down.
"So that's a deterrence session, slave. If you choose to continue, you can look forward to that on a regular basis, regardless of how well you perform."
He could only moan softly. She had been right. He had not understood.
"At least until you get used to the cane," she continued. "We'll switch things up when it becomes unsafe to provide adequate deterrence by more of the same."
She reached for him. He flinched away, and she followed his head, keeping her hand on his cheek until he relaxed and leaned into it. She stroked her thumb across his latex-covered skin. His breathing smoothed out.
"Honey, I love you. I swear I will still love you if you ring that bell. More, for having tried. Not every dream has to come true."
She waited. He didn't move. Sighing, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. Brisk again, she said, "Take a few minutes to collect yourself, then clean this up. I'll let you use a mop, this time."
She unbuckled one wrist and turned to leave.
His hoarse voice called her back. "Mistress?"
"Yes?"
"I love you too."
I seem to have a thing for reluctant dommes and subs who top from the bottom. I think it's a way to restore some balance to my stories, especially the more extreme ones.
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Yes, subs should realize the heavy burden they place on dom partners. Giving up control, agency, and responsibility, and foisting it on a partner isnt really fair. You have to "person up* regardless of how much you want to revert to the safety of obedience. The hard tasks and choices of adulthood and survival need to be taken on by everyone, regardless of how much easier it would be to just be a pliant Yes mistress" or " yes master" sub.
I agree with TWW below. Spot on. Captured the real reluctance of the person pushed into the Domme role, as is usually the case. Five stars.