Always a week behind, this was from last week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt – Observe – but it was a fucker to write. I once had…
CN – piss, degradation He was a boy and he was mine and he was soft and gentle and Welsh. Called Huw, physicist or physiotherapist,…
A love like this, where your words pierce heart-shaped wounds into my flesh, is the only love. Nature created us this way; perverse, animalistic, trapped…
Part I Here
puppy’s tender nipples were so stiff they ached under the gaze of these twelve strangers. For the first time since she had received her confirmation letter, her heart dropped to her stomach and she wondered what was about to occur. It was only knowing Mister was nearby that steeled her as The Chair approached.
He curled his finger under her collar and yanked her forward, chin jutting upward and her eyes widening.
“Stand up straight, puppy.” He admonished, punctuated by a slap across her cheek.
To his peers, he said the following.
“My fellow lovers of the vile, vivid and virulent, welcome. Your dedication to the club’s aims of sensual, consensual desecration is appreciated and celebrated. It is midday; time for fresh meat.”
He placed his hand on puppy’s back and pushed her forward.
“Joining us today we have puppy, a stupid slut with no morals whatsoever. Touch your cunt, puppy.”
She reached between her thighs without a second thought and fingered her sodden slit, already blushing. As she masturbated, The Chair spoke again.
“This fat little lump appears innocent and plain at first glance, but as you can see she has no issue debasing herself for strangers on a single instruction.”
It was a sharp, painful truth – she had bent her knees, for better access to her slippery cunt but also to better show off that cunt to her audience. Her fingers disappeared inside and she fucked herself the way Mister had asked her to a hundred times. And yet this was nothing compared to what was to come. Nothing at all.
Left to her own devices, puppy sometimes got herself in hot water. She went looking for trouble and Mister had to rescue her. Or at least keep close by, ensuring her safety.
The Library Club met each month on a Sunday afternoon. For an hour. Only an hour. They were an elected committee – six masculine, six feminine, and they invited pliant, pretty, precocious submissives to their lair to indulge their wicked and salacious desires.
Submissives would have to prove their worth before they were permitted to attend; prove they knew their own minds, loved themselves and understood their own needs before a Committee member would engage with them. They would be interviewed over the course of days, or weeks. Observed in their daily interactions. And if all was well, their invitation would follow.
puppy had discovered them all on her own, without the help of Mister or Claudia’s sarcastic guidance. In her online community of Dominance and submission, there was a man who told stories online. He drew crowds of stricken admirers, and puppy was among them.
Claudia was an engima, unknowable. Everything about her was abstract – Mister described her body in great, unending detail, but brown eyes, black hair and a smile lighting the way for years didn’t paint a clear picture in Puppy’s mind.
Until one day, when everything changed. She answered her door at 8pm that night, and he was on her doorstep.
“Run upstairs and slip into that nightie I bought you. The one a size too small that shows your tits and belly. And put make up on. Red lipstick and lots of eyeliner and mascara. You have ten minutes. No bra, no knickers.” and he stood on the doorstep, watching her scamper to the bedroom.
She looked beautiful on her return – a different beautiful to her face when she opened the door. A different beautiful to the way her lips distorted with his cock in her mouth. A different beautiful to her sleepy morning selfies.
She stood before him proudly, hands clasped behind her back. The darker skin of her nipples highlighted behind the white chiffon-y material. Her belly protruded and he couldn’t help reaching out to stroke her. She smiled wider. Mister smiled wider, too.
He smiled as he spat in his palm, reached out and smeared her hastily made-up face into a red and black halloween mask.
“Coat on; come with me.”
Before the door is closed she’s tearing at his belt, before zeroing in on the zipper and yanking it down, but even in her eagerness…
Two pink pigtails and one wet cunt. Last week she was a gift, with a wide, white bow tied around her neck and her bare breasts pegged at the nipple. Curled at the foot of His bed the night she was returned to Him, she thought of the party she had attended.
A group of men – a stag; a team-building exercise; she never knew – encircled one. Each a little drunk, a little full of bravado. Pawing at her naked and dimpled body. The smallest, the least imposing, smirked at her as he smacked her across the breasts, so hard it winded her. Two hands grabbed her wrists as he spat on his fingers and insinuated them between the lips of her cunt. More impact followed – A gentle giant would hold her face in his huge, terrifying palm before slapping her. The heat warmed her body and her puckered skin smoothed, at least for a moment.
“On your knees.” An order, a disembodied voice. She knelt.
How I became that girl, I do not know. That girl with bare legs and no knickers, sidling up to him in the foyer of his hotel and murmuring “Is that a telescope in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”
He has me over the bed in seconds, all wandering fingers and thumbs in my cunt, pulling and stretching me this way and that.
Wet little hole.
The week before drags, as always. The day before runs away too quickly, like a kiss or a perfect song. By midday on the day…