The Story of She

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Her submission takes them to the edge of sanity.
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If ever there were a point where she could wrest control of the scene from her master, this was it.

He knew it too. Such a soft sweet morsel of a woman, capable of such complete acts of submission, so free of ego, giving herself to him so abjectly, but when she took his sex into that pocket of heaven that some loosely call a mouth, her true power to bend and shape reality became evident.

Her tender caresses pulled every nerve ending in the lower half of his body into the shaft of his turgid cock and tortured them individually.

He gave up long ago keeping count of the climaxes she gave him this way. Opting instead to expend the energy exacting the strict discipline she so craved.

Her usual level of proficiency with this was as brutal and exacting as the training methods he used to teach her. Not that he was complaining... not that he even could right now. His swollen member was trapped and she was forcing it to disgorge itself. Her unerring skill got him to this point and now she wrapped her arms around his waist and gripped the back poles of the chair to prevent escape. Now, she was ready to use her most impressive weapon, her very throat.

Over the past few months they spent many hours developing this particular skill, one that would make her any master's prize possession, a slave worth killing for. Through practice and concentration she had learned to contract the walls of her throat. And the muscles surrounding her throat were strong and well controlled.

She had also learned to feel the blood pulsing through his stiff member. And to demonstrate her desire to stay in locked-step with master, she would tense and flex her throat to the beat of his cock and he would spasm helplessly in her grasp, a victim of her orally induced dementia.

As inevitable as the tides, and with the same intensity, his quickening was at hand, and sensing his imminent fall, she plunged him to the back of her mouth and latched herself to the tower base allowing him to release directly into her throat. His entire lower body tensed violently as his shaft pulsed on final time and then released a slippery pearl bolt of juice into her opened and waiting throat. With each successive convulsion she held him down and maintained her grip on his prong, anticipating his jerking and holding his waist and caressing him in such a way as to say, "...it is going to be alright, master. It will be over soon, my lord."

In his subconscious mind (the only part working properly at this point), he took great comfort when she would hold him like this during his throes. And that feeling greatly increased the ease with which his cream flowed into her gullet.

As she suckled and hummed, he continued to feed her his milk for what seemed like minutes. He always came heavily when he was with her, a definite point of pride for her, and usually after one of their sessions she would actually feel full as if she had just eaten a modest meal.

An apt pupil, she had learned her master well, and instinctively knew when the last few drops of his essence were safely inside her. And now was her favorite part. Giving him one last tight squeeze, she slowly dragged his rapidly softening staff out of her torture chamber until she held only the head in her mouth. Savoring the last vestige of his cream on the tip of her tongue, she began to caress her stomach, as if to will it into staying there forever. She would rub her stomach many times in the coming days as a conscious reminder that he was with her even when she was in her everyday life away from him.

Slowly, the world began to regain meaning for him as his climax subsided and she finally released the member, spent and inert, as she had left it so many times. It made a moist thud against the chair as it fell from her soft red lips. It caught her eyes and she marveled at its beauty briefly as it lay there glistening with her spit and his remnants.

"This one has emptied you, my lord..." she said, business-like and rather matter-of-factly. Statements this obvious were a source of great humor to both of them when they were in public together laughing, reveling and anticipating what would happen once she was in her collar; kneeling and naked before him.

She said the words ... ...knowing they fell on deaf ears connected to the mute tongue of a man who was all at once her cruel taskmaster and tormentor, her zealous protector and ardent defender, teacher and, right now helpless victim.

She peered at his still absent eyes, felt his seed seep into her with satisfaction and no small amount of pride that she suppressed as she slid easily back into her supplicant pose, head held high with eyes cast downward.

His was a formidable weapon, and she craved and feared it with equal passion. For he had used it many times to quicken her as a reward for her good and faithful service. And he has used it in every orifice her willing and supple body had to offer.

But the size of it was just enough to offer her pain if used improperly. And she knew this to be true from experience. She could remember every wound it had ever inflicted upon her and still she desired it above all others, rubbing the places the pain had been on the nights they were apart.

Fate had made him her master, size and skill made his tool her fearsome desire, yet he was far from invulnerable, as she was not without her own arsenal. Her orifices were more of a threat to his dominance than he would ever let her know. For as her master, he must show confidence, compassion, concern and correction, but NEVER weakness.

Her natural fluids haunted him. They were at once his nectar and poison. And she was full of them.

She was as the rarest and deadliest orchid of the Amazon. Appealing to all of the senses, but deadly toxin to ingest. Her saliva, sweet in his mouth to taste, weakened his resolve and drove him to distraction when they were apart.

More potent still was her cleft honey. It was no secret that he craved it and she would strive to produce all that she could and feed it to him when he requested it on her fingers. She would cry as he drank it directly from the source, as she was almost always bound tightly before he drank of her, underlining her submission to him and heightening her excitement. By restricting her movement she could not caress herself, making her completely dependent upon her master for release. And he would drink it down, catching more of her scent with every drop. She marked him in this way, bonding him to her in the most subliminal, near insidious way, as she had bonded herself to him overtly.

And the last, and most potent of the potables was her cleft water, her ejaculate. This rare liquid she would drown him in. After her lessons and punishments were given, they would deepen their spiritual bonds through physical merging.

But that time would come soon enough. Sensing a need for a respite for both of them, he ordered her, "...fetal rest...". They had many training positions that served many purposes, and counted among them were several intended to give her a chance to rest from her many exertions. Fetal rest was good for this in that she could rest her entire body while still maintaining her subjugation and fealty to him.

She lay down on her side at his feet and drew her knees to her chest and wrapped them with her arms. Her generous bosom spilled out from between her knees, giving him a view that inspired him to continue.

After a brief rest, it came time for her quickening. As a good master, he understood that he could use her for his own pleasure, but it was the mark of an exceptional one to keep his slave satisfied as well.

But he was the most rare of masters in that a large amount of his pleasure was derived from the intensity of her pleasure, a fact that she was keenly aware of and only made her want to surrender more. For not only did she gain safety and discipline under his yoke, but her pleasure was also assured as it was inextricably linked to his.

He rose from the chair and lay down upon the bed. She instinctively followed him and knelt at the side of the bed as he lay down on his back. His cock had lost nearly none of its hardness despite how completely she drained it. So now it lay there pressed against his stomach pulsing and purple. And how she now longed for it.

"I want to see you climax, come, and impale yourself.", he commanded. She looked at him sheepishly and cleared her throat softly but did not move right away. She seemed a bit confused by the order in that it broke with their usual protocol, a divine order that he himself had set, nearly in stone.

"Um, my lord...This one would never presume...to tell you...but...haven't you forgotten something? This one needs to feel your hand of discipline...before you give her release." The confusion and nervousness, bordering nearly on fear at saying these words knowing the pain that would result shocked even she. But say them she did.

At hearing this, he sat up on the bed and put his feet on the floor. Looking down at her with warmth in his eyes, he realized his oversight. He gently caressed her face with one hand and felt the wetness of a tear rolling down her cheek. She closed her eyes and pressed her face against his hand and held it with both of hers, never wanting to let it go. "Please master, I...this one needs to feel your pain first. It makes this one feel like she is alive."

She seemed almost in a panic that he might not do it. Her natural human aversion to physical pain and trauma and her learned desire for it were at war and it showed all over her face. She was so torn that she began to cry and inched herself closer and nearly wrapped herself around his leg, clinging to him.

"This one needs to taste your torment...please!" He looked at her, a smile across his face, bemused. "But, you have done nothing but please me tonight", he said with fake sincerity, trying to tease her, goad her into begging for the whip.

She took the bait, "...master this one needs your attention, both good and bad. This one's only desire is to please you, but the pain that you cause this one is sweet beyond measure, and your kiss alone can make the pain go away."

His heart swelled with pride and desire for her upon hearing the words. "You would request and willingly submit yourself to torture at my hands, however I deem it to be meted, though you did nothing to incur my anger and have done nothing but please me?", he asked, already knowing the answer.

"You are this one's lord and master, your hand is this one's source. Your hand alone gives the balance of pain and pleasure that this one needs for sanity and survival. This one would be lost without both."

He looked at her as she made her impassioned plea for her beating, and he knew that she desired his hand on her in all things. She surrendered her will as easily as she surrendered her body to him and she felt a genuine need to take all emotional sustenance from him and genuine fear gripped her without the balance and guidance he and he alone provided.

He cupped his hand and slid it gently to the back of her head and kissed her deeply as he wove his fingers in her hair. She relaxed her body and seemed to melt as she accepted his embrace. Suddenly tightening his grip he pulled her away cruelly by the hair, as their lips parted, she let out a moan of pain/passion.

"Fetch me the flagram, my sweet, I will give you the pain that you need." Breathing heavily, she slowly rose and went to the table that held their toys. She hesitated for a moment when she saw the soft smooth leather implement surrounded by the other tools they used on each other. She knew the kind of pain that he could inflict with it and her natural reaction was to recoil, yet her desire fought it to a standstill.

Then she felt a wave of reassurance come over her as the warmth of his body and the hardness of his cock came to rest on her back. Snaking his arm around her body, he placed his hand, fingers outstretched, on her womb and held her close to him. "I'll be there with you through the pain, my precious..." he whispered. Hearing the words, her knees weakened, she swooned as her head fell backwards against his shoulder and he held her by the arm and her womb to prevent her falling. She was his to command and they both knew it.

She took up the weapon in her weakened grasp and held it closely to her chest. She stared up at him with the eyes of a vulnerable child as he lifted her weakened form into his arms and brought her back to the bed. He gently lay her trembling form down on the soft bed and brushed a tuft of hair from her tearstained eyes. Fear, desire, and anticipation filled her eyes and she never took them off of him. "I am going to flog you severely, my precious jewel, but I will give you a choice. I can tie you down to help you resist the urge to try to get away, but I believe you to be brave enough to lie still on your own because you know that is what I would prefer. Which will you do?"

"Ma- mu-master...this one's sole desire is to please you. Th-th-is one will accept all of the suffering you deem fit and seek respite only from you when you are finished with her. She will not flee from you. She will run to you."

"I cannot lie to you, jewel, watching and making you suffer will bring me great joy, and knowing that you suffer in my name doubles that joy, you are truly my most precious possession." She knew this to be true in her very marrow and realizing it deepened her sobbing.

He gently guided the pillow from beneath her head and laid her head upon the mattress, he could sense the strength leave her limbs and knew that her emotional storm was weakening her body and strengthening her will to submit.

"We shall start on your back, ass, and thighs, and once you are wounded sufficiently you will turn over and I shall stripe the front of your thighs."

She turned over on her stomach with her elbows on the bed supporting her upper body. "No! Prostrate yourself completely! ...here..." He drew her arms out and laid them straight out on the bed so they spanned the bed from side to side, and turned her head so she could see him as he administered her beating. And kissing her forehead gently their eyes locked and he said, "I shall be waiting for you on the other side of this... make me proud."

"Master..." she said sheepishly, "...this one is afraid." He leaned in closely to her and softly rubbed her head and back. "No, no, no...don't be. I am here with you, take your strength from me. Look forward to your pain, and welcome it as it will be exquisite."

"Don't leave this one master..." she meekly whispered as he softly kissed her forehead one last time, standing over her and taking the tool in hand firmly.

Instinctively, she willed her body to relax completely. She went totally limp as this was always the best way to deal with the pain initially, until at least she achieved her subspace and it became pleasurable.

The first contact was made solidly across the ample mounds of her soft, vulnerable ass flesh. Each leather thong chose a strip of skin to assault and their blows all rang true. The pain shot from her pouting posterior up her spine, into her brain and registered as white light that blinded her momentarily. She did not cry out, instead she grabbed handfuls of the silk sheets and as her vision cleared she trained her eyes on her salvation, the man she gave herself to long ago.

Usually, ten to fifteen lashes would produce the desired effect in both of them. He would experience a satisfying combination of dominance, and authority, mixed with equal amounts of paternal concern for her well-being and arousal. For her, accepting his mind numbing pain gave her release and distraction. Her mind would latch onto the pain and find order and a certain amount of comfort in the certainty of the simple line of logic. Master determined the amount, intensity, and duration of the punishment, and it was her job to endure. For her, the equation was simple and direct. She relished in the relinquishment of her control, in surrendering her power to another.

He finished her back and bade her to turn over, and with some degree of difficulty she slowly complied. He could then see the full effect that his ministrations had on her. The tell-tale raised, red marks on her skin could not tell the story that found form in her glassy, absent eyes.

"My precious..." he called to her, and she somehow managed to focus on him. "...you are doing so well, and we are almost finished. Can you go on? " "Your will is my path, Master..." she uttered automatically. He finished her off with an additional ten lashes to her thighs, taking great care not to strike her in places that might cause serious damage, staying away from joints and other areas not protected by muscle, fat, or other more durable tissue.

Once he was done, he threw the flagram aside and observed his handiwork more closely by sitting beside her. "I am so very proud of you, little one. You are a possession that any master would be proud to claim as his."

"But this one belongs to you, and you alone, Master..."

"Rest now for a moment, little one, for we are not finished. Seeing you like this has filled my stones yet again and you must drain them."

She nodded, and slowly assumed the fetal rest position on the floor as her master took his position on his back in the bed.

Some time passed. They both fell into a light rejuvenating sleep. Both were a bit tired from the session as it had gone thus far. But anticipation of the final acts kept both of them within a stone's throw of consciousness. Her eyes opened first. She still felt the sting of his attentions over most of her body and this slowed her movements, but she slowly snaked her body closer to his still form upon the bed and lightly massaged his leg to get his attention.

His eyes opened and almost instantly a smile overtook his face as he looked down at her silently pawing for his notice. She met his smile with one of her own and her submissive beauty filled his heart with desire and his cock with blood. His phallus began to grow and her attention was split between it and his eyes. She desperately wanted him to plow her, and watching as his weapon grew to its fighting form was the only thing that drew her eyes from his.

Pulling her attention back to his eyes, he wordlessly beaconed her to mount. She noticed that he was about half ready for insertion, and she took great delight in bringing him the rest of the way. She slithered onto his legs maximizing the skin-to-skin contact between them and then focused her attentions on his member. She rubbed him slowly with her hands and cheeks. She slowly worshipped it and nursed it up to full strength, purring as she went. She straddled his pulsating pole and enveloped it past the point of ease and comfort, coming to rest at its base. After wincing at the pain shooting from the lashes to her pouting ass-flesh, she set about her assigned task. She throttled his cock, rhythmically squeezing their sexes together, stretching herself and squeezing him until her legs begin to shake uncontrollably. She then grabs tightly his waist and through clenched teeth asks for his permission to come.

Her question reflects more her devotion to surrendering her will to his, for he has yet to refuse his assent. Still he does not doubt that were he ever to refuse her, she would hold it back.

Her glassy-eyed gaze was on his face and upper chest. And her stare was both fixed and errant, she seemed mesmerized by a swaying point approximately one thousand yards beneath his lying form.

Wanting her full attention for what was to come, he said, "Slave...choke!" Returning to her master, her eyes re-focused and she immediately lifted her head and exposed the most soft and vulnerable part of her supple neck to him. Grabbing her firmly by her throat just above her studded collar, he whispers, "...drown me, lovely slave...”.

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