What is the Law!byStephenThorn©
She knelt on the cement in the position he ordained for times of penitence. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her head down so her chin touched her chest. She shivered, partly from the cold dampness of the basement dungeon against her bare skin, and partly from fear of what would happen when her Master arrived. Her kneecaps ached miserably but it was nothing compared to what she feared her Lord and Master would do when he arrived. She'd screwed-up big this time and he'd banished her to the cellar to await her punishment. She'd been kneeling here for nearly an hour.
Footsteps approached, coming down the stairs in her Master's measured gait. His gnarled walking stick played a muted tempo - tok-tok-tok-tok. Her muscles tightened down her spine, raising goosebumps on her soft skin.
The Baron opened the door and strode into the room. His large frame filled the doorway, and the atmosphere of the entire room changed. Everything suddenly seemed more alive with a dark energy as his presence took hold around them. He stepped closer to her, the material of his pants brushing her shoulder and upper arm. Feeling the aura of his power crackle over her, she trembled in fear - and in want. He often had that effect on her. She adored him, this man of contradictions, and just a passing thought of him was sufficient to slam her libido into full-auto. Even at times like this, when she was afraid of him and what he was planning, her body thirsted for his touch in a way it never had for anyone else's.
He opened a drawer in a cabinet against the wall, and removed a 6-braided leather whip. Returning to her side, he slowly dragged the braids across her naked back. The caress was teasing and playful but she knew there was no gentleness in it.
"What is the Law?" he snarled. His voice was uncharacteristically stern and cross.
"The Law is all. The Law is perfect. The Law is to be obeyed," she replied, voicing the answers she'd had to learn when she first came to her Master's care months before. He was still tickling her with the whip.
"And WHO is the Law?"
"My great Lord and Master is the Law. You are to be obeyed."
"And what are you?"
The leather thongs left her back and she sagged visibly, the realization of what was about to happen hitting home. "I am my Master's property, a slave. My sole purpose is His pleasure. No life have I without Him, no joy is mine but to serve Him. Forever and ever, first, last, and always, I am His toy, His whore, His lover, His servant, whatever He would have me be."
"And how do you serve your Master?"
"I serve Him with my heart. Every minute of my life is because I love Him. More than breath or light or the very blood in my veins do I love Him." The litany finished, she clenched her teeth tightly and closed her eyes.
"Then why did you fail me?" The whip slashed down, its braids burning across her bare back like a talon. She allowed herself a faint whimper of pain, knowing her Master wanted to know she felt what he'd done. Another cruel stroke of the whip, this time leaving behind pink rose lines on her pale skin. A third time the lash fell, and with this stroke her sex moistened between her thighs. Again he whipped her, and a fifth time. Her back was covered with a web of pink marks, stinging as though the flesh were aflame. "Do you know what you did up there, slave?"
Through trembling lips and a red haze of pain she managed to stammer, "yeh - yes, Master. I disrespected you before your guests. I'm sor - sorry, Master. Please - please forgive me. It won't - it won't happen again."
He stalked around her then, a bipedal shark in a dungeon instead of a sea. "I don't think you've truly repented, slave. You need some time at the Post. Get over there." She tried to rise to her feet, but he shoved her with his foot, knocking her painfully to her side on the cement floor. "No, slave. Crawl."
And crawl is exactly what she did. Her bare breasts and belly scraped across the rough cement of the floor, abrading the skin and rubbing her nipples painfully with every slithering motion. She had to part her legs to crawl, and he watched from his vantage point as her vagina winked wetly with her movements.
She crept to one of the metal pillars which supported the house above their heads. But this pillar was different. Attached to the top of it were several lengths of sturdy, shiny chromed chains and two pairs of gleaming shackles. The floor around this pillar was stained with brownish dots and splotches. She had wondered what had caused these stains but hadn't yet found the courage to ask her Master about them. Upon reaching the foot of the metal pole she returned to her penitent posture - on her knees, hands clasped behind her back.
"Get up," he barked. She quickly complied, trying to ignore the sparks of pain as the skin of her back wrinkled with her movements. She stood, facing the pole, and he moved in behind her. He leaned into her back, pressing her against the cold, metallic cylinder. At the touch of his warm body to hers she gasped, and her heart leaped with want for him. Slowly he lowered his head until his mouth was by her ear, and gooseflesh swept up her back as he purred, "the spirit of willful disobedience is within you, slave. I will change that today if I must rip it out of your skin inch by bloody inch!" Then his powerful hands were snapping cold metal bands around her wrists, securing her there.
He stepped away and she saw him out of the corner of her eye as he picked-up a sturdy wooden sawhorse. The crosspiece was padded in black leather and chained shackles dangled from the four legs of the device. Wordlessly he shoved it under her waist, forcing her rump back and out. He latched the shackles around her ankles, the harsh ratcheting sound seeming so loud in the cellar. This spread her legs and exposed her crotch, giving him access to not only the soft cheeks of her ass but also the most intimate openings to her body. Her back was almost parallel to the floor now, and she had to grip the post with her hands to keep from falling forward.
"May your slave speak, Master?" she whispered.
He stepped in front of her, a twisted black kerchief between his hands. "Your lips betrayed you once, slave. They will not be allowed a second chance. Be silent!" He whipped the cloth around her head and tied it into a blindfold. Her world became dark and suddenly she had to track his position by the tapping of his cane on the floor.
Her ears told her that her Master was behind her now. He ran his hand down over the smooth slope of her back, then over her buttocks. It was a gentle caress and she gasped softly at the fluttering in her belly as her arousal intensified. When his fingers slipped down between the globes of her ass, tickling the tightly clenched anus, she bit her lip to keep silent. His touch skirted her puffy sex, brushing up between her thighs and over her permanently bare mound of Venus.
She heard him open and close a drawer and then felt something hot and wet slide across the rosebud of her ass. His breath was damp on her skin as he licked her and then he crooned, "such a shame to hurt a beautiful ass like this, but the Law is perfect and must be obeyed." A harsh slap rang out as he brought the leather paddle down hard on her butt. More blows descended on her, a flurry of painful slaps on her cheeks, making the skin burn. Each stroke brought a tiny yelp of pain from her throat but it also made her hotter and more aroused inside. The Baron began directing his aim lower, the slick leather striking the backs of her trembling thighs. The paddle bit at her pussy when it connected and its surface shone wetly with her womanly dew.
"Tell me what you did," he snarled as the paddle fell again.
She tried to hold on to her breath long enough to form words, but it wasn't easy. She was so excited that her head was swimming. "I was disrespectful towards you, my Master."
The paddle struck her again. "Keep going, bitch!" he spat.
"I spoke against you before your friends, my Master. I spoke badly of you among the other Doms."
A harder, more vicious stroke landed. "What else, bitch?!"
The words drilled into her like blades. Her Master was calling her a bitch! How she must have hurt his mighty heart to make him so displeased! Now the real pain began for her and tears flowed freely, soaking the blindfold. Between sobs she begged for his forgiveness. "Please, Master, I meant no harm. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. . ."
"What did you DO?!" he roared.
"I made a joke at your expense, Master. I am so sorry, so sorry." Her whole body was shaking with her sobs.
Panting, the Baron stepped back from her, throwing the wet paddle into the drawer. He jerked the blindfold from her head and dropped it to the floor in front of her. "Yes, you little bitch, you did. You made me look like a fool in front of them. Cost me valuable respect in their eyes. You made me lose face!" She could feel the waves of heated fury washing from him. Opening the barred door of the cell in the corner, he withdrew a rubber bucket and placed it on the floor beneath her crotch. Without another word he turned and strode from the room, his cane tapping along at his side. He switched off the light and closed the door, leaving her alone in the stygian blackness.
She didn't know how long she'd stood there, bent forward over the sawhorse in the dark. Eventually she'd cried herself to sleep, whispering to the shadows and hoping her Master would hear how sorry she was that she'd been bad. But now she snapped awake, her sharp ears picking-up his tread on the stairs. The door opened, showing him in silhouette. He wore his royal blue robe and the silk made a sighing sound with his movements as he approached her. "I've come to see if your lips still lie," he said. Leaving the light off, he stepped before her and opened the robe, revealing his erect penis. It shone in the light from the door and as her sleepy eyes focused on it she felt the immediate response of her tongue begging to touch it. With no preamble he grabbed a handful of her hair and thrust his hard member into her mouth. Holding her tresses like reins he began to stab his cock down her throat, immediately taking command of her body for his pleasure, as was his right.
She tried to smile around his shaft, enjoying the flavor of his flesh, but it wasn't easy. He was really pumping fast, barely giving her time to breathe between strokes.
In only a few moments the Baron's breathing became rough and he began to moan in his chest. She knew the signs well; he was reaching for his orgasm. The slave's heart sang with joy. His climax would be a sign that he still cherished her. As his thick spear slipped in and out over her tongue dribbles of precum oozed from him, setting her stomach growling for the salty load she knew he had stored in his heavy, big balls.
But then he stopped. Pulling back, he drew his stiffness away from her wanting mouth. He released her hair, and although she didn't dare look up at him she imagined how he must be staring down at her. With a voice holding funereal sadness he murmured, "no, you are no longer worthy of my seed." Then he was walking slowly from the room while she watched, mouth agape in surprised horror. He closed the door behind him, shutting her in the dark while she wailed in misery.
Hours dragged past on the slowest of feet. Her legs were cramping and her back ached with the uncomfortable position she was in. Eventually she had to vent her bladder and was grateful for the bucket her Master had left on the floor beneath her crotch. Several times she broke, crying piteously as she recalled his words; no longer worthy -- no longer worthy. In her heart she was certain he was debating her dismissal. She pled aloud to the darkness, begging forgiveness and swearing to never be bad again. She hugged the whipping post and imagined it was one of her beautiful Master's mighty legs, hiding her eyes in the folds of his clothes while her body shook in its chains.
The door crashed open, the overhead light suddenly blazing and throwing the room into blinding glare. She had only a moment to realize she'd been dozing again and hadn't heard him approach before her wonderful Master was behind her. He snatched a rectangular leather paddle from the rack and spanked her round ass mercilessly. As her seat burned from the blows she repeatedly thanked him, told him that she loved him, begged him for more, pleaded for his forgiveness, and wept with joy at his touch.
Then the spanking was over, and he dropped the paddle to the floor. She didn't know what to expect next, and her sweet Master's silence gave her no clue. Then she felt his hand on her back, and as her mind sought to fit the puzzle together time ran out. The Baron rammed his iron-hard prick up her dry asshole, piercing her like a blade. She screamed with the sudden pain of his thick manhood opening her so brutally. For a moment he was still, his furry nuts jammed against her sensitive vagina and his penis fully sheathed in her spasming guts.
"I hope it hurts you, bitch. I hope you bleed like a stuck pig. You hurt me, and now I'm going to hurt you back!" Then he started to hump her. Holding her by the hips, the Baron pounded his club into her soft, welcoming body over and over again. Tears ran down her face, but down in the pit of her belly it was feeling awfully good too. Her rectum was being cruelly stretched by his thrusting cock but his meaty nuts kept smacking her clit and lips and it was making her more aroused by the second. The Baron was beginning to groan and grunt behind her, and his sounds spurred her arousal. She closed her eyes, imagining how he must look back there, how his lips would taste, and remembering the musky flavor of his royal cum. An orgasm rolled through her, a small one, warning of more to come.
"Uhhhhn, you bitch," he was gasping. "Gonna shoot it into you."
"Yes, Master, please...please fuck me...please fuck your little slave," she chanted. She knew how the Baron loved to hear her talk like this, so she played her hand well. "Oh, God, Master...fuck your little slave so hard...fuck me so FUCKING HARD, Master!"
He stiffened, cried out, and jammed his length into her ass and began to cum. Long ribbons of hot sperm splashed into her rectum and the Baron's hands gripped her until faint purple bruises began to form in her flesh. She was shaking inside and the tremors spun harder until another orgasm washed over her, weakening her legs and making her collapse on the sawhorse, panting and wretchedly sore.
He pulled his wilting member from her clasping anus. The powerful climax had drained much of his anger and his voice was soft and level as he asked her, "so, slave...have you learned your lesson yet?"
She took a deep breath before answering him. "Oh, Master, your slave is so sorry. She is unworthy of forgiveness, but please be merciful. Your slave begs, kind Master, to be allowed to lie at your feet again. Please..."
"Who is the Law?" His voice was steady, the timbre of command with which she had fallen in love the first night he'd spoken to her.
"My great Lord and Master is the Law. You are to be obeyed. Your kitten will not disobey again, Master."
He bent and unlocked the cuffs which held her ankles. "And see that you don't." Then he unshackled her wrists, and pulled the sawhorse out from under her stomach. Immediately, she fell to his feet, kissing his toes. "Empty your bucket, slave," he said. 'Then join me in the bathroom. You will be permitted the honor of bathing your Master. Then, after you've cleaned yourself up, you will prepare dinner for us. If you do well, you will get a reward." Her heart skipped a beat inside her breast at this.
"If it please my kind Master, may I choose my reward?"
"What do you wish, slave?"
"Nothing would please this unworthy one more than to finish what we had started earlier, so a slave may feel your royal scepter in her mouth again...and taste the sweet, burning nectar of you again." With that she did a very bold thing; she slowly ran her tongue around the head of his dripping cock.
He raised an eyebrow at her daring move, but then the corners of his mouth turned up also. "For a slave, you appear to be pretty bold," he said, almost as though in thought.
"If my Master punishes me, I will deserve it," she replied. "But at least I will go to my punishment with the honey of his taste on my tongue. For that reward, no risk is too great."
He chuckled, the sound making her giddy with joy. "You certainly know how to butter your old Master up, slave. Very well. I think you have learned your lesson. Now up with you!" At this, he swooped down and slapped her sore seat one last time. She winced and gasped, but hurried to her feet. Before she could grab her bucket he caught her in his arms. Pulling her to him, he pressed her warmth against his, his hairy chest and belly tickling her as he looked down into her innocent eyes. "But be aware," he growled, "if you ever pull another stunt like you did last night, I'll have you out of my collar so fast you won't know what happened. I'll cheap-sell you to a bastard with a spiked whip and a fetish for Clydesdales. Don't you doubt for a damned moment that I'll do it." There was something brutal dancing in his blue-gray eyes and she felt a knot of ice form in her stomach as she realized he meant every word. Then he grinned and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "Scoot," he smiled.
She grinned, once again secure and complete in her Master's love. Grabbing the bucket she ran two steps towards the door, then stopped and turned. "After you, my Lord," she smiled. His sly grin told her she'd just passed another test.
All rights reserved. Stephen Thorn, July 14, 2000