Love or Hatred Ch. 02

Story Info
A man is being held captive by his mistress. She breaks him.
905 words
4.1
19.3k
6

Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 06/10/2023
Created 09/30/2020
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His cell was pitch black and freezing. She had tossed him his clothes, but they had been cut open. He fastened them into a makeshift blanket, and huddled under them as he drifted to sleep on his cell floor.

When he woke up, he was no longer in his cell. His clothes were no longer over him. He sat up, confused. Looking around, he noticed he was back in the middle of the dungeon. A fireplace at the far end of the chamber lit up the room more than the candles had. He turned his head back.

His Mistress was there. She had on the leather bra from last night, but she was completely naked from the waist down. Her cleanly shaved pussy must have been cold in the chilled air of the chamber, but she didn't react. She stood, staring sharply into his soul.

He felt his penis tug at the metal cage. It was growing firmer, but had no where to go. It pinched as it pressed against the steel.

"I did you a favor yesterday," she spoke. "Now it's your turn to serve me." Her voice was as cold as the air.

A favor? Is that what she thought of it? His ass still felt sore from the pounding.

"This is going to be a long day," she grinned.

She walked forwards, her bare feet patting against the stone floor. She stopped only when her pussy pressed right up against his face. He breathed in. The scent of the sweetest fruit filled his lungs. Despite the circumstances, the bliss was back.

She pushed forward with her hips, forcing him to lean back. She kept pushing, driving her hips to the ground so that he was laying flat on his back, with her sitting on top.

"What are you waiting for?" She said, raising her voice. "Start already!" She slapped the side of his torso. Not as hard as before, but it still left a feint mark.

"Yes, Mistress," he mumbled into her skin. She laughed a delicate but hardy laugh.

"Boy, you're really bad at following directions, huh?" She said. "I'm going to have to fix that later, but for now, do as you're told."

He started to eat her out, slowly at first. She tasted like sugar and it felt just as addicting. He kissed her pussy lips and imagined that they were kissing back. His thoughts emptied in euphoria. Nothing else mattered. Each kiss, each lick, bliss.

He went at it faster. She moaned in pleasure and weaved her fingers into his hair. She tightened her grip and pulled. He didn't even notice the pain.

"Oh I love you, slave. I love you, I love you, I love you." She said.

With this affirmation, he sped up. Each breath got not much more than the scent of her pussy, but he didn't care. Her pleasure was more important than the needs of his lungs. His cock became firmer and firmer inside the cage.

She moaned again, louder this time. And again. This time closer to a shout than a moan. Her hips trembled and he could feel the waves of pleasure radiating from her onto him. His cock was still blue and sore, but he felt her orgasm as if it were his own.

Without warning she stood up. The warmth he felt inside disappeared without a trace when her pussy left his mouth. He was once again, laying cold and naked on the stone floor of the dungeon.

"Good slave!" She said, stammering for breath.

His chest heaved as his lungs filled back up.

She giggled and pressed her right foot against his chest. It was icy cold. The pressure grew as she shifted her weight off of her other foot. She was small, but her full body weight pushed hard on his chest. She placed her other foot on his stomach. She slowly took a couple of steps, each one in a new place on his body. The coldness of her feet filled up the surface of his body. She was everywhere on him, but not in the cage. She then placed her left foot on top of his cock and pushed down. She giggled when he groaned in pain.

She lowered herself and sat down, with her ass over top of his caged dick. Her pussy lips folded over the metal. His dick twitched in excitement, but that excitement was all it would get.

Mistress smiled. She slid her ass back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Her soft, round ass created an ocean of pleasure and frustration with its friction. He lifted his head slightly to see, and she was staring right into his eyes.

His dick ached, but his soul blazed with passion. He loved her. And hated her. Different parts of his body were fighting over his emotions. He didn't know how to feel.

Her grinding slowed to a stop. She slowly lifted her ass and stood over his head. He was like an ant looking up at his goddess.

"You better clean yourself up, you gross loser." She snapped at him.

He hadn't noticed that his dick was now dribbling cum.

She walked over to the table and tossed him a small rag from it.

"I'm gonna go grab lunch, we'll fix that obedience problem when I get back, kay?" She said, while walking out of the dungeon.

His stomach growled.

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americanromanticismamericanromanticismover 3 years agoAuthor

I hope you were actually expecting romanticist literature to be on this site. (Note: Romanticism does not equal romance)

AnonymousAnonymousover 3 years ago
Not really a story is it?

Just a snapshot of mostly unpleasantly abusive scenes. I presume your username is a pisstake, romantic it is not.

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