BDSM
It seemed to Clara as if they were transported, instantly materializing in the chamber. Her eyes took a moment to adjust to the light. The room was only dimly lit by torches. When she could see clearly, she realized they were in what appeared to be a dungeon. Almost everything in it was either black, or blood red. Fear blossomed in her chest so sharply that she couldn't breathe for a moment. Her eyes found Damien and she realized he was no longer wearing the black suit.
Now, he wore dark trousers and a red button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. In his hand was a black leather whip.
He studied her from across the room, then slowly approached.
"Strip," he ordered when he was only a few paces away. Clara stared at him for a moment, unsure what to do. His face instantly contorted in fury. He snapped the whip, the tip of it cracking the air only inches from her face. "Did you not hear me, slave?" he hissed. "I said, strip!"
Clara jumped, terror making her hands shake. Then she bent to take off her high heels.
"Not those. Leave those on for now. Remove the rest."
Still shaking, Clara unzipped her dress and it slid to the floor. She could feel Damien's eyes on her as she fumbled with the clasp on her bra. It finally unsnapped and she let it drop. Then, she pushed her panties down her legs. Naked except for the heels, she stood and watched him get closer to her. He reached out, fingertips brushing along her shoulders, lightly tracing her breasts, down to the juncture of her thighs. Before she could subconsciously close her legs more, he withdrew his hand.
"On your knees," he ordered. She obeyed, her eyes going again and again to the whip he held. He cracked it lightly as if to test her nerves. She fought the urge to jump. "Very good, little slave." He walked around her slowly, then faced her once more. "Tonight we will be exploring arguably the most popular taboo. BDSM. After all, I am the ultimate sadist." He laughed darkly. "And I've always been a dominant being." He wrapped her long dark hair around his fist and pulled slowly. Clara's breath hitched as new terror swelled within her.
"Frightened, my little slave?" He pulled tighter, making tears spring to her eyes, then relaxed his grip and stroked her hair gently. "You'd be a fool if you weren't. And you're no fool, are you? After all, the things I have in mind for you are going to hurt, pet. But masochism means you'll take pleasure in the pain. I'll make you scream...and you won't know if you're screaming in pleasure or agony." One of his fingers ran softly down her cheek, and he looked down at her, studying her face. "I don't even have to turn you into a masochist, do I, pet?" His smirk was devious, knowing. "No, you're already a masochist. You're already ready for me, in every way." He cupped her cheek. "Perfect," he murmured.
"I don't-" she was cut off as Damien cracked the whip across her calves. She screamed, almost more in shock than pain. The bite of the whip burned and throbbed, but wasn't unbearable.
"You will speak when spoken to, slave!" He snapped the whip again, this time hitting her across the ass. She cried out as the leather bit into sensitive flesh. "Do you understand me?"
"Yes!" she cried, desperate to get him to stop.
"Yes, Master," he corrected, licking the whip across her lower back.
"Yes Master!" She fell forward to her hands and knees, tears stinging her eyes.
"Very good," he murmured. "There are no safe words here because you are totally at my mercy. Your body is mine. You will take what I choose to do to you, and you will bend to my will. If you disobey, you will be punished. You are going to serve my pleasure in whatever way I wish. You have no name unless I give you one, slave. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Master." She closed her eyes, tension and anticipation coiling in her belly. A tear fell to the floor. What had she gotten herself into?
"Come to me," he demanded. She looked up and realized he was across the room, sitting on a dark leather couch. When she started to stand, he stopped her. "No. Crawl, slave. On your hands and knees." Clara obeyed, crawling to him on her hands and knees. When she was just before him, she stopped and sat back, uncertain what to do next.
"Across my lap," he ordered. "You're going to be punished for your earlier hesitancy." Fearful, but not wanting to make him angrier, Clara stretched herself across his lap. "If you come, I will punish you further, slave." His dark words made another shiver of fear run through her. She didn't think she had to worry about his threat. Whatever pain he planned to inflict on her, she was certain she wouldn't come from it.
There was an almost inaudible whistle through the air a split second before something hard cracked against her ass. Clara screamed, her body jerking. Damien raised the paddle again and brought it down on her other ass cheek. The sound it made was loud, and heat bloomed beneath her skin. Clara squirmed in his lap, tears now falling freely from her eyes. He braced his forearm across her upper back to hold her in place as he continued to hit her with the paddle. Twelve times. A symbolic number for them. Each hit brought a new wave of pain to Clara. It burned through her as he continued unmercifully. Her whole body seemed to throb with the pain. But to her horror, between her legs throbbed as well. Each crack of the paddle made her sex tighten and clench. The pain rolled and twisted inside of her, bringing a strange kind of pleasure with it.
After twelve strokes, he dropped the paddle and started spanking her with his bare hand. They were hard slaps, but not as hard as the paddle had been. On her already sensitized skin, though, they felt like fire. He started stroking her ass between spanks. His big palm caressing her skin, fingers trailing lightly over her. Then he moved his hand between her legs. Found her wet. Throbbing. He smiled and slid one long finger inside her. She arched and moaned, clenching around his finger tightly.
*
Now that she was no longer struggling against him, Damien moved his other hand down to spank her again as he thrust his finger in and out of her. She continued to cry out, tears falling from her eyes, but she grew even slicker under his fingers and tightened around him like a vice. After a particularly stinging spank, he thrust two more fingers into her. She screamed, the sound nearly masking his own moan as he felt how tight she was. If she hadn't been, he could have made her body that way- after all, he was the devil- but it somehow seemed hotter that she was already so perfect. His cock swelled as he thought of how tightly she would fit around him. How much it would burn as she stretched to accommodate his cock.
He felt her start to clench harder as her body spasmed. Instantly, he withdrew his hands. She cried out again, this time in dismay.
"I warned you not to come, pet. Shall I punish you further? Do you want me to keep spanking you and let you come?" She moaned incoherently. Damien fisted a hand in her hair and jerked her head back sharply. "I asked you a question, slave. Answer me."
"Yes, Master," she managed to say.
"Do you want me to spank you until you come? Even though you'll be punished?"
*
Clara wanted to say no, she wanted to beg him to stop. Instead, she found herself nodding. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, Master."
"Ask me for it," he demanded.
"Please spank me, Master. Please let me come."
"Beg me to punish you."
"Please punish me, Master. Please," she begged.
"What a dirty little whore you are, my slave." He stroked her hair and smiled. "But you'll get your reward. Then the real punishment begins." Before she could say anything else, he thrust three fingers into her and started spanking her, hard. He slapped her ass while he fucked her with his fingers. His thumb stroked her clit as he moved faster and faster. Screams of pain and pleasure became mingled until she could not tell them apart.
Then, with one final slap, he thrust hard into her and pressed onto her clit until she started to orgasm. Her body bucked as every muscle tightened and her cunt clamped down on his fingers. He kept thrusting into her as she continued to come, making his fingers even slicker.
Finally, her body collapsed on him. She shuddered as he withdrew his fingers, sobs still wracking her form.
After a long moment, Damien drew her to her feet and stood before her. Even in her high heels he still towered over her. His hands came up to frame her face, thumbs brushing away her tears.
"So beautiful," he murmured. He released her face and walked around her back to blatantly admire her. "Beautiful," he repeated, his palms covering the now red skin. She flinched away from the touch but he jerked her back to him, one hand going between her legs to stroke her still throbbing clit while he caressed her. She moaned, in pleasure and pain, and gave up on fighting her body's natural reactions. When she collapsed back against him, Damien withdrew something from his pocket and wrapped it around her neck.
Instantly, terror doused all other emotions. She reached up to claw at his hands, bucking wildly to get the thing off her neck. Damien held her with infinite strength, quickly halting her struggle.
"Stay still, slut," he commanded. "If I wanted to strangle you, I would do it with my own hands." As if to demonstrate, he wrapped both hands around her neck. It was so small, his fingers overlapped several inches. He squeezed lightly, catching the breath in her throat and then releasing her. "And when I do that, it won't be to kill you. After all, you're already dead. This is just a symbol of my ownership, slave." He brought the item up to her throat again and this time she stayed still while he buckled it on her. When he was finished, she felt it with her fingers. A collar. Slim, and from what she could feel, leather.
Damien waved his hand and a full length mirror appeared in front of them. Clara gasped. Her cheeks were flushed, tears still lingering on her face. Her breasts had tightened in desire and the inside of her thighs were damp. The collar was the same color as his shirt. It stood out starkly against her pale skin. Standing there, in front of the devil in his collar, a pair of black stilettoes and nothing else, Clara really could believe she had a harlot's soul. Damien started to wave his hand as if to get rid of the mirror then stopped. He gave that smile again and clipped a leash on the end of the collar. When he pulled, the collar tightened. It was already snug, so with pressure on it, it became just tight enough to make swallowing uncomfortable.
She followed him meekly as he led her to a table across the room. From the table he picked up a pair of thick, padded cuffs and fastened them to her wrists. Then he attached the cuffs to a pulley hanging from the ceiling. He pulled until her feet were just barely on the floor. The position stretched her, keeping her helplessly exposed. Once she was secured, Damien turned back to the table. He picked up and examined each item carefully before choosing several. Satisfied with his selection, he turned back to her.
"This will hurt, pet, but remember, you're being punished." Then he leaned forward and clipped the nipple clamps on her breasts. She screamed as the metal bit into her already sensitized skin. Her body jerked, making her breasts sway. The delicate chains and feathers attached to the clamps danced with her movements. The weight of them drew pleasure with the pain.
While she closed her eyes and adjusted to the sensation, Damien picked up another item and crouched in front of her. He drew her legs apart. Clara didn't even try to resist. When he attached the clamp to her clit, though, she screamed and closed her legs, trying to twist away from the new pain. Damien laughed and slapped her ass. She jerked forward sharply. The ball on the clit clamp swayed and bobbed. The movement made her breath catch, conflicting sensations tearing through her until she didn't know whether to scream or beg. Whether she wanted it to stop or if she wanted more.
*
Damien stepped back to admire his work. With her hands pulled so high, her back was arched, making her breasts thrust forward. Adorned with the feathered nipple clamps, and the third clamp swaying between her legs, she looked like some exotic sacrifice. It wouldn't be the first one he'd received, but it was certainly the best one he'd ever had. The tears on her cheeks, her obvious pain and pleasure, only increased his attraction to her. He conjured pedestals and tied her feet to them. It forced her to surrender her weight to her arms and spread her legs wide. He could see evidence of her new arousal shining on her thighs and it made his cock swell and twitch.
Supporting her weight with one arm around her waist, Damien released one hand from the cuffs. She sagged against him in relief, even as the tightness in her ass increased. He quickly looped her arm behind her back and refastened it to the cuffs, the chain now lower. With her hands behind her back so sharply, her shoulders hunched, trying to find relief from the pressure. Damien lowered the pulley further, just enough to allow her to bend, presenting her ass to him. While she struggled to accommodate the new position, he moved behind her. She felt the placket of his trousers brush against her as he unfastened them and released his erection.
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