House Rules
slave will cherish the whips strokes of her Mistress and offers his body to Her for the benefit of Her pleasure
4/5
Last night she told me one of her fantasies. She works for the police; she’s their top interrogator. She enters, dressed in a tight black skirt, crisp white blouse. She tells me to strip. When I’m naked she handcuffs me to a chair. She softens me up by pulling my hair and slapping my face. Then she asks a question. I don’t reply.
‘Very well,’ she says calmly. From a drawer she takes out the nipple clamps. They are fearsome-looking things, with tiny sharp teeth. Carefully she turns the little screw to get them to the desired strength of grip. When they go on, they hurt a lot, though I know there is worse to come. She forces her finger into my mouth, then two, then three fingers, nearly choking me.
‘Well?’ she says. I say nothing. She takes the clamps off and turns the screws tighter, then puts them back on. She goes about her work methodically, with no emotion, just efficiently ratcheting up the pain until she gets what she wants.
The clamps are at maximum force now. My body is quivering with pain. She asks the question again, then bends low to hear the answer. I spit in her face.
‘You will regret that,’ she says quietly. She removes the handcuffs and pushes me down over a table, clicking the cuffs back into place, this time in front. From a selection on her desk, she chooses a cane, a long thin whippy one. She swishes it from side to side.
‘I’ll give you one more chance,’ she says. She ask her question again. I say nothing. There is a long pause. Then the cane strikes the centre of my ass. I cry out. The pain is devastatingly intense. She strikes me again. She doesn’t know how many strokes it will take to break me. But she is patient, and she has plenty of time.
