I moaned, staring up at him in dread, knowing this was going to be bad. And oh, it was.
He let me wear boy shorts and a sports bra, telling me that during days like this it was what I would always wear, both red. And his reasoning was ominous. “First, I value the cleanliness like you. And second, well, I don’t think I’ll need access to piercing needles through these tits or this cunt in order to have you in satisfying amounts of agony while you’re like this.”
And he knew that. He knew that because he had studied me this whole time. I trembled while he tied me to that throne of a chair, using rope to tether me down with my ankles apart and my arms on the slats that served as armrests. More rope wound through the back slats, holding my torso in place with the figure 8 pattern he wound around me. I whimpered up at him when he brought that cock gag, but it wasn’t much of a protest. I was too bowed by basic biology. Ivory chuckled and pat my hair. “There, there, little pain slut. We’re just going to experiment a little. Well, I’m going to experiment and you’re going to suffer for me.”
Horribly, he also dispensed with the eye mask, opting to let me see and for him to see me instead. I watched him warily while he smiled in pure sadism and got an entire range of toys, from the crop and the tawse to the short whip and the small dowel he used for a cane occasionally. “Let’s see what reactions we can get from this oh, so very sensitive body.”
I quivered but then just waited. There was no fight at the moment, just resignation.
He started with the crop and I jumped in my ropes, whimpering, because he licked it against my lower belly. He worked me over that way and he knew what to do, of course he did. By then he had seen me curl up with a pillow when I slept because it felt nice during that time. He knew where every sensitive part of me was.
And he used it. The crop was torment with even just the small licks he gave me. I lowered my gaze, miserable, and unable to even feel the general sexual pleasure I usually got from his sadism. No, this was all pain and discomfort in nothing but the bad ways. Ivory touched the crop to my chin, forcing my gaze back to his. “Look at me,” he said softly, in his intense voice. “I want to see it.”
I obeyed, staring into his eyes as a way of coping, his wildly green eyes. My face flamed when I felt tears at the corner of my eyes and I didn’t know why the hell they were there. He was being more gentle than ever, though that wasn’t saying overly much. Even so, I had suffered so much worse at his hands. He smiled wickedly and switched to the tawse. “Let’s see what else we can pull.” The tawse made me shiver a little. Now that could be true pain, if applied correctly, and Ivory for damn sure knew exactly how to apply it correctly.
He cracked it on the tops of my legs and I squealed, staring up at him and whining, crying. And his eyes made me feel even more hopeless with the amount of excitement those reactions so obviously gave him. He snapped the tawse down while my nerves screeched with protest at his assault. My head fell back against the chair and I stared up at Ivory. After a few hits, he smiled evilly…. and slapped it against my pussy. I screeched instantly, shaking and whimpering and then the tears really fell. They fell even harder when he moved on to the dowel, stroking the cool strip down my legs once before he flicked his wrist and I moaned, my eyes fluttering. And then I felt the horrible mental arousal that came from the fact that this was pure torture. Of course his other nights of agony had been too, but this was somehow even worse since everything already hurt in such a way that I wouldn’t be having even one of those mental orgasms. Somehow that knowledge gave me even darker masochistic pleasure than usual. Besides that, there was the pleasure of how effective this was, of being brought so terribly low and having my body turned against me so thoroughly it was almost an art form on his part. The horrible thought of no pleasure or any kind of release at all gave me just enough arousal to edge me for him. “So much feeling you have, pretty girl. So much to take advantage of. I’ve always admired your gender for the fact that you are made to feel more in every way. More physical sensation and, yes, more emotion.”
I stared up at him while my tears fell in those ridiculous, desolate amounts when I didn’t even know why. All I knew was that my body had been tired and aching all day and I had dissatisfied a customer which would raise my anxiety on a normal day. And suddenly I knew what he was doing.
Oh, it was partially for his deviance, for certain. He was, indeed, cruelly capitalizing on how much my body could hurt at the moment. But, while that kind of game was generally the only reason we played, there was an ulterior logic this time.
He knew how much I hated being a female, how much it irked me to feel such bullshit emotions that didn’t make sense when this time started to occur. He knew also that I shoved those emotions almost angrily aside as best I could and anytime I could. There were things that would normally make me shed tears that I wouldn’t break for during this time for fear that it was female bullshit. He had seen it.
And he was giving me an excuse that would be acceptable in my own eyes, an excuse to cry all I damn well wanted. I broke beneath him in the best kind of way, tears pouring down my cheeks in a catharsis that was so much relief. It didn’t matter if he saw me cry. Or rather it did matter because he loved my tears, wanted to bathe in them sometimes. He chuckled above me and snapped the dowel against my pussy. Then down my thighs. He struck my tender abdomen so that I squealed the loudest and suddenly I was much more animated and alive and… weirdly happy. It might not have made sense but his breaking me down gave me more energy. It was like I had been so cold and dead all day and his pain was a fire to heat me until I vibrated again.
Oh, it still hurt like hell. I stared up at him to let him see what he obviously wished to see, which was that every strike, no matter how gentle he made it, was far worse during this time. And he loved it, his smile growing with greater and greater satiation at every little reaction. “My God, what a waste to not take advantage of this and use you as a pain slut this way. You can’t even get off on one of those masochism orgasms you have, can you?” I shook my head frantically, my eyes wide but I stared into the depths of his and adored him. His gaze darkened and he approached me, his hand curling around my throat. “Take it,” he breathed. “Horny little victim. Look at all this pain and it still arouses you, doesn’t it? But you can’t have any release at all.” I’ll be damned if I didn’t almost reach that point just from his words alone, but my body was just too sore and he was snapping the dowel against my pussy, thighs, and abdomen in sharp, militant snaps. He laughed in my face when he saw that I still couldn’t quite reach the point of tortured pleasure, even when my eyes snapped to those strict motions of his wrist and that sight always turned me on. Especially when he was wearing short sleeves like he was now. I moaned around the gag, lifting to the dowel now to try to deal with the tease of pleasure. And I knew that action damned me by the look in his gaze, the sudden excitement that appeared there.