August 5, 2013

Hide and Seek

Posted in stories at 4:44 am by littlesubmissions

“Slave bells…” She paused as she cinched the leather around his wrist and clicked a small brass padlock through the release. “Weren’t just decorative. They were there so that if a slave ran away, they would make noise and could be found more easily.”

“Really?” He shook his hand experimentally as she cinched the leather and bells around his other wrist. The bells jingled merrily.

Her shoulders shrugged. “I think so? Maybe? I might have just read it in a Gor book.” She tugged on the bracelet around his wrist, nodded with satisfaction, and then stepped back. “Point being, take your clothes off.”

He shucked off shoes and socks while his breath got shorter, quicker. Pulled his pants down and shirt over his head as the bracelets rattled with a shrill, tinny sound.

Her eyes narrowed and her tongue slid slowly across her lips. A purr came from deep inside her as his clothes hit the floor. She shook her head and sighed. “Put those on the dresser, please.”

He looked around at the clothes scattered on the floor in a random debris pattern, and grinned at her as he started picking them up and putting them on the dresser. She playfully kicked him in the butt as he bent over, and sat down on the bed.

“Foot.” She pointed to her lap, and he balanced on one leg and placed his foot in her lap. Another string of bells was secured around his ankles, and his body rattled as he switched feet. “Good boy. One more…”

She wrapped the leather around the base of his balls, cinching it down tight against the flesh. She swallowed and sighed, clicking the lock shut and slapping his cock. He jumped and the bells jingled. She grinned and gave a goonish chuckle. “I’m going to remember that for Christmas. We’ll play Jingle Balls.”

He grimaced at the pun, and shook his head. He hated Christmas music. “I’m not sure how many verses my balls can jingle.”

She shrugged. “We’ll find out. Hope I don’t decide to put you naked on a leash and drag you around to go caroling.”

He shivered a little and nodded. “Yes ma’am.”

She smiled and leaned back, looking up at him. “Okay, the game is hide and seek. I count to twenty, you go and hide. You can jerk off as much as you want while hiding, have as many orgasms as you want, but if I find you I get to add a…” She paused, savoring the word. “Decoration.”

“Decoration?”

“Decoration.” She nodded and smiled. “I won’t slap a cage on your cock, at least until the game is over, but your punishment for being a bad slave and running away will be additional toys on, in, or around your body. Especially in your body.”

His cock twitched and his breath shuddered. “Yes ma’am.”

She kissed his sternum, the middle of his chest. “Now slave, I’m going to close my eyes, and count to twenty. Then I’m going to come find you.”

She shut her eyes and started to count, he moved experimentally, wincing as the bells jingled. He thought for a second, then walked normally out of the room, only slowing when he got the hall. Then he moved slowly, carefully, keeping his own count in his head, slipping into the hall closet and carefully closing it behind him as he hit eighteen.

She licked her lips, and slid her hand down her pants, imagining herself on a horse riding across a grassy plain, dogs braying and other women spread out in front of her, beating the tall grass with heavy clubs. They would find the runaway, and drive him until exhaustion broke him, leaving him in a pile on the ground. She had a whip, a short, vicious piece of leather she would methodically pound his body with until she tied a rope around his hands and dragged him back to her estate.

He would lick her boots and beg forgiveness, and she would spit on his body, beat him some more, until she grew tired. Then she would have him stripped and his naked body locked in the breeding stocks, bent over, his mouth winched open and his ass sticking out. He would be left there as a fuck toy for the entire estate, and every evening he would be permitted the privilege of begging for her forgiveness.

Men would violate his mouth and ass, women would stop to piss and spit on him, insert their fingers in his ass, torture his cock and balls. The stench of cum and waste would linger on him, and when at last he had begged sufficiently she would magnanimously allow him to begin his punishment.

The thought of the look on his face when he realized his actual punishment hadn’t even started yet… of showing him the tools used on slaves who ran away twice… the shears that turned men into geldings…

Her hips twitched and rolled and she bit down on her lip, savoring the pain as she came. She rolled out of bed, the fantasy and pleasure still fresh in her mind, grabbed her toy bad and started to prowl the house. She moved from one end to other, listening carefully, closing her eyes and running the scenes through her head.

She paused outside the hall door. The slightest hint of a metallic rattle, and then she picked up the sound of his breathing. His breathing was regular, deep and steady, and she knew he wasn’t near coming.

She had some time.

She leaned against the wall, and listened. She wanted him closer, on the edge of coming when she opened the door and stopped him. She hefted the bag of toys, and imagined his punishment. The punishment for runaway slaves.

One night of being the piggy, of crawling on his hands and knees around the bonfire, of eating scraps of food off the ground, of licking boots and high heels. Of doing what he was told, everything he was told. Of being the lowest thing on the earth, lower than even the animals that worked her fields.

Of being a bent, broken thing by the morning, a sobbing pile of abused flesh.

She heard his breath quickening, and the sound of one of the bells rattling. Grinning, she opened the door, light pouring on him as he tried to carefully jerk himself off. She shook her head in mock disappointment, and made a tsking sound. “Bad slave. Running away to molest yourself. Well, I have the cure for bad slaves… Turn around, bend over.”

She worked the plug into his body until she felt his sphincter snap down around it. She flicked the latex gloves off, and slid her finger down the tube hanging behind him like a tail. Her hand pumped the bulb dangling behind him, and he grunted as he felt the plug expand. His knees involuntarily moved closer together as he felt the vibration start, and she dragged him back to the bedroom by his hair.

She closed her eyes and started to count, listening to his short, mincing steps recede into the hallway.

There was a lovely gag waiting for him, to keep his mouth open and drooling. She wondered if she could follow a trail of slime to his hiding place. A pair of vicious clamps for his nipples and some weights to make moving even more difficult and painful. A pair of shackles to restrict his movement even further.

She frowned, and realized she had stopped counting. She tried to remember what number she had been on, then grinned and hopped off the bed. The number didn’t really matter. She grabbed the bag of toys and ran off to find him.

Preview: I want to desecrate you.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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