August 26, 2013

Assymetry

Posted in stories tagged , , , , , at 5:33 am by littlesubmissions

Author’s note: Had a heckuva time with the ending on this one. What do you think?

*thwap* *thwap* *thwap*

She pulled the rubber band back and let it snap into the meaty flesh on the back of his left shoulder, over and over. Blood vessels were pulled to the surface and popped, the skin turned red and irritated. “There we go…” She set the rubber band aside, and picked up a flogger.

She started to hit the same spot with it, lightly at first, then harder and faster. She listened to his breathing, could tell he was deliberately keeping it slow and controlled. Her head tilted a little so she could see the spot she was striking more clearly, and she murmured. “Symmetry really makes this whole thing easier, doesn’t it? I mean, knowing that I’ll do the same thing to the other shoulder makes it easier to process the pain. So I won’t be doing that tonight. I’ll be working exclusively on the left side of your body.”

She heard his breathing quicken slightly, then slow down again to a forced, measured pace and smiled. She switched the flogger for a heavier wooden rod, and started to hit the same spot, watching the flesh bruise and discolor. “Hmmm, this will leave a nice mark.”

She mussed his hair, and sighed contentedly.

“Now, for something a little different…” She went into the kitchen, and came back with a glass of ice water. “Left arm, straight out.” She put the glass in his hand, and kept grinning with hazy eyes. “If that drops below shoulder level, you’ll chug it. Dump it on me, and I swear to God I will kick your ass so hard you won’t sit down for a week.”

He nodded, the muscles in his shoulder tensing. “Yes ma’am.”

She knelt down beside him, and started putting clothespins on his body, occasionally looking up to see the where the glass of water was. She ran the pins down his left side, the tender skin his arm usually covered. When his arm started to tremble she kept a closer eye on it, and when it dipped she cleared her throat.

He brought the water to his lips and started to gulp it down, two clear rivulets running down his chin. When he finished and there was only ice clinking in the glass, she stood up and took it from him.

She walked back into the kitchen and came back with the glass full again. He flinched when he saw the gallon pitcher of water in her other hand. She put the pitcher down, and handed him the glass again, and picked up her clothes pins and started to run them further down his body.

By the time she ran out of pins his arm was trembling and dropped again. He shuddered but brought the glass to his lips and chugged it again. He exhaled sharply as she took the glass and let his arm drop, bouncing it off the clothespins and wincing as their jaws twisted his skin.

She poured slowly, wanting to give him a brief rest, and prolong the torture. When the glass was finally full she handed it back to him, and he braced his feet and brought his arm back up. His body started to tilt to the right, holding the glass higher, and she tsked at him. “Posture. Stand up straight pet.”

He moaned but shifted his body until he was standing straight again, and forced his arm up higher.

She grinned and went back to work on his body. “Some people like to put a whole bunch of clothespins on a person, but I’ve always preferred to use fewer. That way I can take them off one spot…” She pulled a clothespin off the top of the disjointed row. “And put them back on another spot.” She put it an inch below the bottom of the line, and started moving more clothespins down his body, letting the rush of blood where they had been clamped mix with the new pressure as she relocated them.

She could feel his shoulder trembling all the way down his body. The clothespins vibrated as he tried to force his arm to remain rigid, but it slowly dropped again. She watched him, purring, smiling at the sight of him unable to raise the glass high enough to drink from it, and feeling her cunt twitch as he had to shift it to his other hand to pour it down his throat.

He finished the glass, and handed it back to her, breathing hard. “Ma’am?”

She poured more water in the glass, and turned her head to look at him. “Yes pet?”

“I really need to piss, ma’am.”

“Of course you do, you’ve been drinking all this water. But why should I let you?”

“Ugggg…” He tried to keep the moan of despair from escaping, and failed. “I don’t know ma’am, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold it.”

“Hm…” She let him linger on the edge for a little longer, trying to keep his arm away from the clothespins on his body, letting them crush his nerves a little longer and the pressure in his bladder increase. “Tell you what, you have two options: You can piss in the glass, and when your arm drops drink that instead. We’ll switch to the right side and you can use that arm. You’ll have to beg me for the privilege of having your right side tortured, but knowing you’ll be drinking a glass of your own piss will make for a pretty good case.”

His nose crinkled, and she felt a warm flush in her chest. She’d never figured out why he liked drinking her piss, but hated his own so much. Just another cute, kind of gross eccentricity in their relationship.

“Or, you can piss in the toilet, and I’ll keep torturing your left side. I think we’ll start over with the flogger on that left shoulder.”

He hiss through his teeth, and nodded. “I’d like to piss in the toilet, ma’am.”

She took a slow sip of water. “Okay then, off you go. But don’t knock any of my clothespins off or they’ll go on your cock.”

He moved off quickly towards the bathroom, and she took a sip of water. She smiled at him as he shuffled back into the room, and turned to face away from her.

*thwap* *thwap* *thwap*

She pulled the rubber band back and let it snap into the meaty flesh on the back of his left shoulder, over and over. Already irritated skin and blood vessels were damaged, distorted, and broken down further. “There we go…” She set the rubber band aside, and picked up a flogger.

She started to hit the same spot with it, lightly at first, then harder and faster. She listened to his breathing, could tell he was having trouble keeping it slow and controlled. Her head tilted a little so she could see the spot she was striking more clearly, and she murmured. Her fingers itched to torture the unmarked flesh on his right side, to create her own symmetry, but she could wait.

At least as long as he could.

Until he begged for it.

Then she would show him how horrible symmetry could be.

Preview: His body jerked then fell back against the ropes.

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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