January 14, 2013

Playing Games

Posted in Uncategorized at 3:26 am by littlesubmissions

“Five points?” Her lip pulled back in a sneer, then her eyes narrowed, looking from the board to the man seated across from her. “You’re throwing it. You’re totally throwing the game, aren’t you?”

He leaned back, shrugged, and grinned. “Ah… well, yeah. You can’t promise horrible sexy penalties for losing, and then expect me to want to win.”

She stood up and walked away.

When she looked back, he got up and followed. It was a “I want you to come after me walk away” and not a “You pissed me off I want to be alone walk away.”

She sat down on the bed and looked at him. He stood in the doorway until she looked away, then sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. “What happened?”

She shrugged, and thought it over. “You weren’t trying, so I don’t want to play.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” He twisted the apology around in his head until it sounded right. “I just really wanted to see what you were going to do to me if I lost, so I didn’t want to win. If you want to start over, I’ll try to win. Promise.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not just that. Give me a second.” This time he waited while she rearranged words and tried to describe what she was feeling. “Sometimes, I want to feel pampered and spoiled and I want you to submit to me, and give me things of your own free will because you love me…”

She pushed his head back down, gentle pressure sinking his face into the pillow while his body jerked and contorted. Her eyes moved from spot to spot, watching the beads of sweat jerk on his body as the muscles twitched. She licked her lips, and waited for him his breathing to slow back down. “Now, how many more do you think you can take?”

He felt her hand moving through his hair, petting him, calming him, while he tried to think around the pain and figure out a number. “Ugh, I think I can take ten more ma’am.”

Her hand moving away and the rush of air warned him it was coming, but his teeth still bit down hard on the pillow, hot wet air from his lungs pushing spit and pain out his mouth onto the cloth. Ten hard, rapid strokes swatted down on his ass, horizontal lines appearing one after the other on top of and in between the marks she already made.

Her fingers rubbed up and down her slit while he pushed his body up and down, desperate to do something with his muscles. She could see his cock bouncing and throbbing under him, and rubbed herself a little harder. When he stopped twitching, she slid her fingers along his lips, putting them in his mouth and leaning over to look him in the eyes.

When his eyes opened she slid her fingers out of his mouth and ran them through his hair again, speaking slowly and softly. “Now, tell me how many more you think you can take, because we’re going to keep doing this until you get down to zero. When you think you can’t possibly take another stroke without using your safe word whether you want to or not, you’re going to sit on that chair, and I’m going to ride your cock and look in your eyes and see how much more it hurts. I’m even going to let you come, after I do of course. But not until you’ve convinced me that you’ve given me every last ounce of pain you possibly can.”

She stood up, shifted her feet into a wide stance, and lifted the cane. “Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Good boy, I love you too. How many strokes do you think you can take this time?

He pushed his face into the pillow, rolling it from side to side, trying to drown out the burning throbbing sensations in his ass. “Fifteen ma’am.”

“And sometimes I just want to be this tough as nails bitch who overpowers you and takes, no, not takes, more like rips, just reaches inside you and pulls whatever I want out of you because you can’t say no…”

He was naked and on all fours, locked in the humbler. She was staring down at him, in that hot detached place she found some time. He’d been walking around aimlessly, bored with the endless snow and weather updates, cooped up in the apartment too long. So she had taken away his clothes and his ability to walk, locking the two pieces of wood around his balls, reducing him to an animal crawling on the floor.

The leash and collar had taken the rest of the world away, his existence was a three foot radius circle around her hand, or whatever piece of furniture she looped the handle over. Now it was looped over the arm of her desk chair, pinning him in place while she walked back from the bedroom.

“I’ve decided you don’t need your sight anymore.” The bandage wrapped around and around, turning his vision into a soft white haze then nothing, just the feel of the cloth over his eyes. The collar jerked around his neck now when she moved, as he tried to follow the sound of her, bumping into walls and furniture, beating his knees and slapping his hands against the floor.

She looked at him following her, wondered what else she could take. Clipped a clothes peg on the nerve abundant skin at the end of her index finger, and sat on her haunches in front of him. “I’m going to take your ability to talk now. If you have anything to say, now would be a good time.”

He licked his lips and pulled in a deep breath. “Please ma’am, I really need to pee.”

The cold, detached place got a little bit warmer, a little harder. “Then ask me. Politely.”

He put his head down to the floor, and pitched his voice as softly as possible. “Please ma’am, may your thing piss before you take away it’s ability to talk?”

His only response was a sharp jerk on the leash and the sound of her footsteps moving away. She pulled him in closer, bringing his world in tighter as she navigated through the bathroom. She jerked him left and right by his throat, finally telling him “The shower is right in front of you. You can piss there, on all fours, just like an animal.”

He felt his hands move from the cold tile to rough fiberglass, crawling into the shower and shifting his hips as wide as possible.

“Wait.” She kicked his legs around, moving him to the angle she wanted to watch from, then licked her lips. “Now. Do it now.”

His cock twitched and piss spilled out, puddling and then running across the shower floor towards the drain. He could feel it splashing up his knees, then back further on his legs as the pressure lessened and the stream slowed.

When he finished, she jerked back on the leash and he carefully backed out until her hand in his hair stopped him. He felt the pressure against his skull, moving his face down until it hit the puddle he had made, dragging it back and forth, rolling it from side to side in the foul smelling liquid. It soaked into the bandage and he closed his eyes tighter, trying not to breathe in when his face his the deeper pools.

When he was coated to her satisfaction, she took a towel off the shelf and ran it through his face and hair. “I don’t want you getting piss all over my floor. Disgusting creature.”

The cloth moved away from his skin, and there were just traces of dampness on the bandage and crevices of his face. “Stick out your tongue.”

Wooden jaws clamped down and he remembered why they were here. One after the other they pushed into the flesh, hanging off his tongue, the weight a constant, unnatural tug. “Well, say something.”

“Shg flg md mnt.”

He could hear the soft snort that passed for her laugh when she got like this. “Much better.” She could keep taking, and he couldn’t say no, couldn’t run away, couldn’t even stand up. She looked down at him, and tried to decide where to start.

The leash pulled him along behind her, as she thought about what else she could take. His dinner, half eaten, was scooped up in a dustpan and thrown out because he was taking too long to lick it off the floor, and the clothespins went back on. His ass followed some time later, the plug shoved in deeply until the muscles cinched down around the base, locking it in. Plastic wrap taped around his hands, turning them into fists, had taken away his ability to jerk off. She had proven it by ordering him to make himself orgasm then kicking him in the balls every time he failed, watching him frantically rub his slick fists over his half-hard cock.

She had thrown a blanket over him as he lay on the floor, nothing left to give her. She had let him knock the clothespins off his tongue with his plastic-wrapped hands, so he could tell her “Good night” with something approaching normal speech. She crawled into bed and looked at all she had taken from him, knowing she’d give it back tomorrow. But not tonight.

She trailed off.

He nodded. “Okay. Thank you for telling me. I like both of those things, and I’ll try to be better about reading your moods, and knowing which you want. It would really help me if you could let me know, if you feel comfortable, or if that doesn’t ruin, make things not work…” He trailed off too.

They sat and leaned against each other for quite awhile, then got up and started playing again.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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