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Skyhook Erotica

Skyhook Erotica

Five: This never happens

Written by Skyhook

“You are going to hurt me badly, aren't you Master?” Milly asked softly, unable to disguise the tremor in her voice.

“Yes, yes I am child” replied Bates, stood tall and wide, imposing his presence on the slight figure stood before him.

“But why Master?” Milly questioned after a slight pause, glancing at him, eyes flicking up from her down turned face.

“For many reasons.” Bates puffed himself up further as he began his speech, chest fighting his rotund belly for prominence. “The simple reason is because I enjoy it. But looking deeper, it's because it's the natural order of things. I am a superior - this is a statement of fact. You, as a submissive are lesser. You exist for men's needs, to serve and obey us; me. It is your duty, your role and I know, even if you do not as yet, that this is your only route to true happiness.

“You have come here today to start your journey to becoming my chattel, my slave.” He even managed to emphasize the 'M' in 'My'. “And that duty involves…the essence… of your role is to bring me happiness. And that, child, involves taking pain and learning to accept it for my pleasure.”

Again, Milly paused as if gathering the courage to speak, to raise a concern. “You know Master, I am inexperienced, I've not taken much punishment before. I - I want to learn, from you Master, but please, I'm scared, be gentle with me?” This last was said with a small brave smile in her voice, as if bargaining with him, appealing to some better nature in him.

“No. That would be dishonest of me. You will learn the pleasure in pain.” Bates was building now, her display of timid fear - far from creating sympathy – was exciting him.

“I believe, under me, everyone and anyone can learn to enjoy pain. I will show you. By the end of the day you will be broken, if asked you would do anything for me… if asked you would let my dog fuck you. You will beg for it, if that is what I desire.

“Strip.”

Milly, unsure now and scared at how far this had gone, could go, shook her head and backed away. Bates, anticipating this, rushed forward, grabbing her wrists by the leather cuffs he had placed there on her arrival in his basement dungeon. Milly didn't resist this time, whether through fear or wanting to be a good girl, I simply couldn't say. Bates roughly pushed her back under an exposed beam and linked the rope hanging from it through the rings on her cuffs, fastening her wrists together and then pulled on the free end of the rope, winching it over the beam, raising her hands high over her head until her body lifted, Milly only able to support herself on tip-toes.

“This is to be your first lesson. Obey me instantly.” My, Bates, had all the kit. He walked over to a far wall, where a bundle of green garden hose lay coiled. He took his time unfurling it, not even glancing at Milly until he had done, the nozzle of the hose pointing directly at her midriff. “This is what happens to disobedient whores”.

The water, under high pressure, was ice cold. She screamed as he played it over her body, it felt like needles held in a fist assaulting her skin. Bates took his time as she screamed and writhed, balancing and twisting on her toes. He covered every inch of her, even playing the jet on her face, over her mouth and nose inducing the drowning panic reflex in her. And that's against the Geneva Convention.

Finally he was done. The dungeon was silent, save for the trickle and drip of the spent water finding its way down the soak in the concrete floor.

Milly's calves were screaming, her body shivering uncontrollably, but she stared him defiantly in the eyes. Bates' face was impassive, but as she risked a glimpse down she saw the small bulge in his leather trousers. The bastard was hard – or at least as hard as he could get – on her helplessness and vulnerability.

He strode forward then roughly tore her blouse open, the buttons pinging off, exposing her breasts to him. She'd gone braless as he'd instructed but he gave no acknowledgement, praise or approval that she'd followed his order. Bates gave her a lingering leer then disappeared from her view. She shifted her stance again, trying to work her feet and legs – and then he stood in front of her once more, a cane held lightly in his fingers.

“I can do this”.

There was no caress, no gentle warm-up, just savage strikes on her breasts. Bates took his time, spacing the blows, enjoying her writhing. Milly struggled against the position she was in, trying to balance the pain in her toes and calves against shying away from his vicious, spaced hits of the cane on her breasts.

It went on for an age, remorseless.

If Milly could have seen Bates' face through her eyelids, clenched with pain, she would have seen he was almost in a trance, an automation with but one purpose; to deliver suffering. The most chilling thing though, was his vacant dead eyed stare – the absence of pleasure or emotion on his face.

Milly, now with her head thrown back, has taken his attack, as if she had a choice, but it hurt, she couldn't stop the sobs, she fought it but her frame shuddered as she tried to choke back the tears that wanted to flow.

Bates released her. She fell to the floor, massaging her aching muscles. He gave her this, for a moment then… “Strip.”

This time Milly stripped off her sodden and cold clothing, as quickly as possible. She has learnt what he will do if this girl does not comply with his wishes.

She stood up slowly, seemingly almost catatonic. Her Master's voice seemed to be coming from a distance, like a radio turned low, yet his face was in high definition widescreen television. She was mannequin still as she presented herself as told, bolt upright, hands resting on her thighs.

Bates placed the humiliation gag in her mouth, then attached the small serving table designed to slot into the tube integral to the gag.

“Whore. See the wine bottle and glass on the table? Uncork it, pour me a glass and bring it over to me, serve me as a slut rightly should, place it on your serving table and walk back to me. If you spill a single drop I will show you more pain than you ever believed the world could contain.”

What could Milly do? Her back turned to him, her shoulders hunched as she uncorked the bottle. Bates couldn''t see her pour, couldn't see what she was doing, but the sound of the liquid made him thirsty. It's hard work this slave training, and he deserves a reward, God knows he does. Milly placed the full glass on the stand in front of her mouth then walked towards him slowly, one foot placed delicately inline before the other.

He took the glass then raised it in mock salute to her, smiling at his confirmed superiority over stupid sluts like this, over women in general; every single one who ever spurned him.

He wanted to put the drained glass down, but something was wrong.

Dark fog encroached the edges of his vision.

“I….” was all he could get out as his view of the world tilted, the concrete floor rushing up to meet the side of his head. Pretty, pretty, the angles, the texture of the floor, why hadn't he noticed the colours and beauty before? The light reflecting off the small mica chips in the granite? Then black. It's all black.

***

The next thing Bates sees is a pair of boots. Leather, six inch heels impossibly sharp, he follows the laces up the legs, they are high boots and the legs in them are latex wrapped. He tries to move, then passes out again. Shall we give him a minute? Do you think he deserves it?

Milly is now dressed in her tight rubber catsuit. I polished and shined it myself before she left, corset tight around her waist, her hair scraped back, accentuating her beautiful face. I can see how Bates fell for her; she can do innocence so well, her smile brightens a room but oh, the contrast when she is riled; it hurts, the disappointment radiating from this stunning warm creature.

Bates tries to stir. See him now. Naked, bound over a wooden horse, on his front, his arms and legs pulled and bound tight down low on its structure. But hush now, Mistress Millicent is about to speak.

“Comfortable, worm? I've heard about you, but I thought I'd give you a chance and experience your idea of play for myself, though God knows on the evidence you didn't deserve it. And by what has happened – your idea of play, I'm very sad, very sad to say your reputation was right.

“I won't prolong this, but I think you should look at something.” Millicent holds up a photo. It's of a young girl barely into her twenties. She is looking straight at the camera, scared, nervous, kneeling, (bitch, ho ho) but also… there is a strength there, it's in the eyes. That was me, my friend, before I was destroyed, my whole being, my… self… torn apart. Funny thing, retrospect.

“That is my cherished sub. You damaged her, deconstructed her. Can you even imagine how long it took me to show her how things should be after you'd had your wank fantasy? That it's not about abuse, that she should be allowed to fly? Be her?”

Bates tried to answer. He strained; tested his bonds, he formed some sort of argument but regrettably the industrial sized ballgag stifled his words.

Millicent moved behind him, out of his field of vision. She gently cupped his balls, hanging low and exposed. She tickled so soft, caressed, she tells me Bates got hard at her ministrations. Well, as hard as he could manage.

I know what's coming next, and I will confide in you now reader, I don't feel guilty in the slightest in taking joy in it.

“Look in front of you” Mistress Millicent says, still caressing his exposed balls “You see the sandpaper? You see the candles, the leaves?”

Bates fights against his bonds, his mouth launches into a stream of invective – sadly the gag filling his mouth muffles his diatribe. Our loss, I'm sure.

Millicent takes up a nettle leaf, she holds it in front of his eyes for a few telling seconds.

“Remind me; what is it you like to say to those women you prey on? Oh yes – 'anyone can learn to enjoy pain. I will show you. By the end of the day you will be broken'. Oh indeed.” Bates' body stiffens, twists and squirms as Millicent goes to work on him.

Imagine the scene now; Bates looks up in his struggles, against the unfamiliar searing pain, fighting his bonds, wrenching at them, swearing again into his gag… but then hope; his eyes meet an ally, a faithful friend. Tyson, his mouth open, tongue lolling with a quizzical look on his canine face.

Millicent giggles softly.

“Oh yes, what was your other line? ' if asked you would do anything for me… you will let my dog fuck you, beg for it, if that is what I desire'”

Mistress Millicent giggles again.

©Skyhook September 2009