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Old 02-15-2011, 01:33 AM   #1
DorianBlack
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Default Master's Little Toy (for Ingenue and Shyminx)

I glance at the clock and notice the time. Where did it go today? I close my eyes and rub my temples to relieve the pressure. It helps somewhat, but I need to head home and unwind … put my feet up. The phone chimes at me again. I sigh. Sharp flashes of light appear behind my eyes. I stand up and walk out of the office. My jacket over my arm, I don’t even bother looking at the temp.

“Mr. Hogarth,” she chirps in the perky voice I find so irritating. “There’s a Mister Williams in line four.”

I turn and try not to look menacing. It’s not her fault. Melanie left four weeks ago with no notice. Its not her fault you were left in the lurch. She’s just another in an seemingly endless string of perky, pretty, enthusiastic little girls who want to break “into the business.” Melanie is the one to blame.

“Take a message, I’m heading home.” She looks at me with irritatingly doe eyes with far too much make up and strange blue flecks. “Finish up that letter to the Japanese consulate and you can go home.”

I stalk out before I can hear her reply.

Traffic is the usual mild mess. The radio is insipid and the news boring. It’s all so mundane, but at least it’s Friday night. Turning the corner I press the garage door opener by habit. I pull into my garage and step into the garage. Passing through the mud room, I glance around the granite counter tops and stainless steel around me in the kitchen. I open the refrigerator and pull out a chilly beer and a bottled mineral water.

Walking through the house, I pass the dining room, the stairs, the entryway, the media room, and finally reach the only interior door with a lock. Pulling a key from my pocket, I insert it into the lock and look into the darkness below. My eyes slowly adjust as I sip on the beer. Eventually I hear it, the music suddenly turn on. I flip a switch on the stairs and walk down the steps illuminated in bare bulbs.

At the bottom of the stairs is a typical basement recreation room. He glances with pleasure at the threadbare couch in front of a late model color television. Milk crates are strewn around with various objects on top, just barely visible. As his eyes adjust even more to the gloom (the windows are blacked out) he sees a heavy leather flogger laying on a coffee table to the side.

“That’s where I left that,” he thinks to himself. Vaguely annoyed, he picks it up and walks over to a wall full of floggers, whips, crops, canes, and other implements of torture through beating. “A place for everything and everything in its place,” he almost sings to himself as he hangs it lovingly on an empty space between two other floggers.

He undoes his tie and unbuttons his top button. He drops down onto the somewhat sticky couch, puts his feet up on the ratty coffee table, and turns on the TV. The screen flickers to life and a TV show from decades ago plays like he knew it would. He only pays half a mind as he listens until he hears it. The muffled music stops. Silence. He never turned on the sound for the TV, as usual. He waits, counting time against his heartbeat. He puts his beer down and walks over to a door in the wall.

He taps a few buttons, and opens the door. Inside it total blackness. He hears a small whimper and the jingling of a chain. Suddenly the room floods with light and music blasts from all corners. A woman screams and moans all at the same time. He curses himself silently and reaches just to his left, still outside the doorway. A quick flip of the switch and the music and light vanish.

“Come here,” he coaxes. He hears what sounds like sobbing and scrambling. “Shhh … it’s going to be okay. I’m here now. It’s stopped. Master’s here now.”

“M-m-m-master?” a woman or a girl’s voice softly intones.

“Yes Master,” he says a little more forcefully now. He reaches inside and feels against the wall until he finds the chain bolted to the concrete of the room. He starts to gently pull until he feels the tension tighten. “Now come here.”

The chain slackens slowly, tentatively. I pull it toward me, careful to keep the tension and pull a little harder each time. She needs to learn to speed up. Finally impatient I turn and walk away from the door. She should have seen my silhouette and come toward it without my prompting. I feel the chain tighten suddenly as she probably falls. I turn and pull the chain hand over hand. A girl slides into the light, her eyes squeezed closed and her naked body trembling. She tries to stand but I yank the chain, dropping her to the floor again.

“I’m sorry, Master” she sobs. “Pussy won’t do it again.”

I finally slide her right up to me and stop. I lean down. I pull the chain attached to her collar, wrenching her head up to level with mine. Her eyes are starting to open, but its painful. After several days lying in that room with no sleep or toilet, she reeked.

“What are you sorry for?” I ask her. Silence. Finally she bursts out sobbing, “I don’t know!”

I disconnect her chain and pull her to her feet. I half drag her to the couch and throw her onto it. Even through her darkness scarred eyes, she can obviously make out the beer and water on the table. I see her unconsciously lick her lips. She quickly scrambles so her body is length-wise on the couch. She spreads her legs and starts rubbing herself frantically. She looks at him, eyes now open, with hunger and shame.

“What does Pussy want?” I ask.

“Pussy wants Master’s cock,” she quickly replies. “Please fuck Pussy in any hole you want. Pussy loves Master’s cock.” Even with her dehydrated state, he can hear her gorgeous little cunny start to squelch and slap with the abuse her fingers are inflicting.

He removes his cuff links, shirt, tee-shirt, shoes, sock, belt, and underwear. All the while she stares at him, the moist sounds getting louder as his muscular frame is revealed to her. He crawls up the couch between her muscular and pale legs. She stops her self-abuse and opens her arms wide to his embrace. He moves into her arms, his lingam finding her yoni with no effort. He slides his girth into her with similar ease. Softly he slides in and out, gaining momentum. She keeps her eyes on his. Her hips begin to rise and fall, matching his strokes. She grips him with passion, her legs pulling him deeper while her fingernails rake him from behind.

He starts to feel the small twitches deep inside her, and it spurs him to extra efforts. Then he feels his own climax coming. He speeds up even more, driving into her harder. He sees her wince as his tip hits something round and hard deep inside her. Far from concerning him, he relishes the moment. She’s finally taking him without complaint.

Then he starts to shoot into her and yells, “What do you want from Master?!?”

Arching her back she screams in response, “Pussy wants your come deep inside me! Please Master, make me a baby! Melanie can’t …” and she stops in horror. Her eyes widen in terror even as I start to pump my precious seed into her willfully disobedient body.

I glare down and her and immediately pull out, wasting part of my semen on her stomach and thatch of new pubic hair. When she’d first come down here, she’d apparently shaved it all off. I find that disgusting. I like women, not little girls.

“No … no … no … no!” she sobs in terror. “Pussy wants your semen. Pussy wants a baby inside her.” Tears stream down her face as I stand up and pull her off the couch by the collar. I pull her over the couch and drop her onto the floor. Without words I pull her back up and lay her over the back of the couch. I quickly find her shackles and secure her feet to the legs. I then walk around and secure her collar and wrists to the front.

“Please Master,” she sobs weakly. “Pussy will be good. Pussy loves her Master.”

“I know you do,” I say as I stand in front of the wall naked. I pull down a thin rattan cane and her sobs become even more intense. I walk behind her and say to her sternly. “I know you love Master’s cock, but you must also love the pain.”

As I look down, I see the lips of her labia start to part again. Her little clitoris starts to peek out as if looking for the rod. I smile to myself. She’s almost there. Perhaps some attention this weekend and then a few more sessions in her “time out room” will chase that pesky Melanie away for good.
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Old 02-15-2011, 08:40 AM   #2
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Bravo! And thanks

The change from first person to third is quite effective as the story progresses. I like how well trained she’s become - to the point she is begging for his baby. Love how she calls herself Pussy too Delicious!
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Old 02-15-2011, 01:11 PM   #3
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Originally Posted by Shyminx View Post
Delicious!
Thanks! It's nice to have appreciation from a muse, even if they didn't know they were ... musing?
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Old 02-15-2011, 02:25 PM   #4
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Nice story, bro.
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Old 02-15-2011, 07:10 PM   #5
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Poor (former) Melanie. Still getting blamed for her replacement's incompetence.

The idea of sensory dep and white noise torture have always scared me.. yeah. Poor girl.
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Old 02-16-2011, 05:33 PM   #6
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Originally Posted by Ingenue View Post
The idea of sensory dep and white noise torture have always scared me.. yeah.
I hope it doesn't detract from the fantasy, but in my head he was blasting the Gummi Bear song over and over along with the flood lights. I think white noise would be preferable, personally.
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Old 02-17-2011, 03:12 AM   #7
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Originally Posted by DorianBlack View Post
in my head he was blasting the Gummi Bear song over and over along with the flood lights.
Made me lol (the one that goes "bouncing here there and everywhere?")
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Old 02-17-2011, 11:08 AM   #8
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That's the one.

Je m'apelle Gummi Bear.

The horror .....
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