The Secret Room Ch. 01

She reared back her fist and slapped him hard across his face. Tilting back her head, she closed her eyes and reveled in the sound of his small moans of pain. His face was red from the many times she had struck him, and his hair was a tousled mess from the moments when she had fisted it and pulled. Hard.

Her slave was a handsome young man. Tall, lean with beautiful green eyes and soft brown hair. His tanned body was one to rival the gods and she loved watching him sleep at night. His hair shinning in the soft glow of the moon, the slow ripple of his muscles as he breathed and shifted positions.

He was standing in the middle of the room, his arms above his head and his wrists chained together. The chain led from his wrists to the ceiling to prevent him from being able to sit or kneel when he got tired. His head hung over his chest and his eyes were downcast. He didn't want his mistress to see his lust for her. But ever more importantly, he didn't want her to know how sad he was she was displeased with him.

She didn't know it, but she meant the world to him. She was the first thing he thought of when he woke and the last thing he thought of before going to sleep. Not to mention that he lived only to please her. That's what made this torture so unbearable for him. It wasn't the sweet torture of a mistress having fun with her slave, it was the harsh torture of a disappointed mistress punishing her slave.

He risked a peek at her out of the corner of his eye. She had moved away from him and was rummaging in one of the many chests that lay scattered about the room. Each chest contained an assortment of toys for his pleasure. Or pain. In this case, he figured whatever it was she was looking for would be the last thing he wanted to see.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to panic. All he could think about was how much he hoped her anger would go away so he could please her again. He let his body fall and groaned as the shackles bit into his wrists, rubbing them raw. If only he could sit down for a minute, get some of his strength back.

"Up." she ordered. He whimpered and looked at her pleadingly. trying to communicate silently with his beloved mistress.

"I said up!" she screamed, and slammed the paddle against his buttocks. He let out a small whimper of pain and struggled to his feet. He could feel himself shaking as the muscles in his legs strained to keep him upright. He knew he had to have been standing there for two hours at the least, and it seemed like longer.

"Do you know why you're here? Why we're here?" she asked, her voice soft yet cold and deadly. He nodded once making sure to keep his eyes downward. He had realized long ago that, when she was in this mood, if you looked her straight in the eyes she took it as a sign of impudence.

"You disobeyed me, Maverick. I gave you one rule, asked you to follow it at all times, and you broke it. Do you know how that makes me feel?" Maverick didn't respond, didn't know how to. All he could do was hope she understood how sorry he was from the bottom of his worthless slave heart.

"Look at me." she commanded. Maverick slowly did as he was bid. He felt hot tears begin to trail down his face as he saw the disappointment deep in her eyes, and etched across her face. It was all he could do to hold her gaze on her command.

He wished he had never disobeyed her orders, didn't even know why he had. He should have stayed away from the Secret Room, but his curiosity got the better of him. He had been jealous of her other slaves, the ones she would take into the Secret Room. He had always told himself, secretly hoped, that he was her favorite slave. But to know that he hadn't had the privilege of being chosen to go inside the room had wounded him deeply.

"What I am about to do," she said, tipping his face up with her index finger so that he was looking at her again. "Is going to hurt me more than it hurts you. i hate being disappointed in you Maverick, but something like this is absolutely unforgivable." Maverick slumped down again, afraid that, after this, there would be no chance of returning to her good graces.

She walked over to the chest and returned the paddle to it's proper spot. In it's place she picked up another paddle made of wood. One side was glossy and had a smooth finish. The other unfinished side had small bumps and ridges, perfect for giving splinters to the unlucky receiver of the blows. She walked back towards him, tapping her palm lightly with the paddle.

"I want you to use this punishment as a lesson Maverick. The next time you feel like disobeying my orders," she said, raising the paddle with the ridged side facing him. "Or doing the opposite of what a good slave would do, I want you to remember the pain I'm going to give you in return for the hurt you caused me."

With that, she tightened her grip on the paddle, and struck...