Bad Girl

"You're going to be punished. You're a very bad girl."

He took me by the hair and dragged me down the stairs. Most people would have called it the basement. I knew better. I knew what it was. What he had made it. It was the dungeon. His Dungeon. And it was where he would punish me. Mercilessly. Wonderfully. Painfully.

"Strip." He shoved me into the middle of the room and began removing his wide, thick, leather belt.

"But I didn't..."

"No excuses! Or your punishment will be worse. Do you want that? Do you want me to go to the Closet?"

I didn't, so I did as he ordered.

I pulled my sweater over my head. I'm not allowed to wear a bra because he always wants to be able to see my big breasts moving, bouncing, with their hard nipples poking at the fabric I wear. Then I pulled my skirt down. Of course, I'm not allowed to wear panties, either. Every morning before I leave the house he inspects me. In the beginning I didn't believe him. And I felt weird, so i tried to disobey. I wore panties, but he cut off the first few pairs. Then he punished me. In the kitchen, in broad daylight. So naturally I tried hiding them in my backpack. But he knew, somehow, and he checked. Then the punishments got really bad and I had to leave the house with my ass bright red and so hot and sore I couldn't sit down on the bus.

Now I know better. I had no panties on. When I pulled off my skirt he could see my bare pussy - he waxes me himself - he loves the pain of pouring that hot wax on my cunt and making me take it. Besides my bare pink pussy lips he could see the ring from the dildo that he'd shoved up my cunt that morning. It's remote and he is a genius with electronics so I was being punished all day long. He made me come right in the middle of a budget meeting and I had to pretend I was sick to my stomach. Can't have all the attorneys knowing I'm enjoying a remote fuck now, can I?

Then all I was wearing was my thigh highs and my tall pumps.

"Turn around." I did as I was told, though I knew I would be begging soon for mercy.

"Bend over the bench." It's a flogging bench that he designed, full of all sorts of special little amendments that help him punish me.

"Spread your legs." I did although I knew what was coming.

"I warned you this morning but you ignored me. You disobeyed me. I'm going to show you how I punish bad girls who break the rules."

"Please, Master, don't..."

"It's too late for that, isn't it?"

He went to the Closet and I knew I was in for it. He could work me for hours and when he was hot, like he was now, it meant I was going to be worked over, but good.

He strapped my ankles to the legs of the bench. Then he clamped my arms, spread wide, to either of the poles he'd attached to the sides. My breasts were pushed tight against the padded flogging bench, but I was spread so wide I couldn't have moved to relieve the pressure if I'd wanted to.

"I'm sorry to have to do this, but perhaps you'll learn from this punishment that what I say must be obeyed."

"Yes, Master."

I felt the cold lube shoot into my asshole from the lube gun. That's when I knew just how much I was going to have to bear. I liked ass play and normalliy he'd use my juice or his come to lube me up. The real deal meant major ass punishment. I should have known because he'd been talking about my ass for days - about how bad I was, and about how much I needed to be shown what he could do to me.

"If you don't do as I say, this will only hurt worse. So follow my instructions."

I felt the big, blunt head of a dildo at the entrance to my ass. Naturally I tightened my sphincter in fear. To no avail.

"I'd advise you to relax." And he began to insert what he called the Monster. I knew that's what it was because it immediately stretched and burned as my hole was penetrated.

"You are not to come. Do you understand me? No matter what I do to you, you control yourself. Or else."

Or else was the most daunting term he used. The last time he'd implemented the 'or else', I hadn't been able to sit down for a week and his three best friends had shared in my punishment. Imagine an ass-fucking round-robin and you have some idea.

I was being filled, the huge thick dildo penetrating so deep up my ass that I was gasping and panting.

"There. That is the beginning."

He reached between my legs and tightened the straps that held the dildo deep and in place. But when he shoved his fingers into my cunt and pulled the remote bullet out, I got weak in the knees. It was definitely going to be a DP night for me.

"I can see that you are not repentant in the slightest. Obviously I will need to be very severe with you." And then I heard the squeak of the Closet as he went back for another tool. He could have oiled the doors, but this way I had the expectation after hearing the squeak, of knowing he was choosing his tools, letting me anticipate my punishment.

And suddenly he was back with a duplicate of the Monster, this one a vibrator, covered with little nubs and a flared, penis-shaped head that was tough to take on my best day. I'd never had both of them inside me before.

He rammed it up my cunt with a brutal stroke and I moaned, loud and long as my insides were stretched nearly beyond endurance.

I expected to feel the vibrator turn on immediately, but I was wrong, again. He moved around in front of me and pulled out his cock. It's big, long and when it gets hard it is fearsome in the extreme. He uses it on me to command me, to show me his mstery of me and, truthfully, I crave it. But tonight, there was only one way he was going to make me take it. I knew that suddenly and I quailed.

"Open wide, you bad girl."

The sweet sting.

I dreamed of him that night. It was dark and dangerous and the winds howled. His face had been in my mind for days. But when the lights went out and the sounds died, except for the majesty of the power of nature, I felt more.

I had tossed and turned, the candles had burned low and the restless night had kept me from the nirvana of sleep.

I crept from my bed and wandered the house, waiting for something I could not identify or name. Wishing for more than I knew. The echoes of a voice that was not familiar rang through my head. And my flesh ached for touches ... not soft, not gentle. My flesh craved his touch. Brutal, harsh, demanding. Wringing from me the screams of agonized ecstacy as my body responded to the torment he so willingly and exquisitely dished out.

"Sleep." A voice seemed to whisper. "Sleep and I will come to you." It urged me back into the dense darkness of my room as the height of the storm burst upon the house. Shutters slammed. Trees bent in agony. Winds buffeted the shingles and all around the howling of the elements raised my libido to an unheard of pitch.

I lay back upon the pillows, amid the cool sheets and closed my eyes.

"Ask for me and I will come."

I breathed deeply, and the scents of sulfur and smoke filled my lungs.

Somewhere a fire burned. Lightening had wreaked its havoc upon a house, or a stand of trees.

The acrid smells itched and tingled.

"Call me."

I breathed again and a cooler smell, of damp earth and the richness of stone, flowed into my lungs.

"Give your need a name."

"Please!" The word slipped from my lips as I writhed against the sheets. My flesh craved, desired, needed ....

"Say the words..."

"Come to me...use me....take me"

When the next sounds came they were the laughter of a dark soul. He stood over me and the dreams did not do him justice. From beneath black brows dark eyes gleamed. Cruel lips curved into a smile and in his massive hands lay chains and bindings, and whips.

"At last. I have waited. Your call is as a key unlocking the depths of my hungers."

He approached and I knew that the time had come to submit. To give in to the cravings of my flesh and my body."

"Shall I begin?" He asked, in a soft and gentle vioce that rained upon me as icy snow. One step more and I would feel the depths of the exquisite torments he would bestow.

"Begin...."

With that there was no further sound, there was no laughter or scent. There was merely the feel of his lash upon my skin as he struck me. Again and again until I begged and pleaded for mercy. With that one cry he screamed his power.

He plunged instruments within me. Large and brutal they impaled me. My limbs were stretched wide and tied down. My breasts offered up as subjects for his brutal touch. My cunt a mere vessel for his powerful rage.

Heat, cold, ice, torment. Again and again I withstood his ministrations.

"Shall I continue? Do you wish for more?"

"More!" I begged as my flesh wept in blood and fluids as his hands twisted and teased, pinched and slapped. Candles dripped above me. His strength gave him patience. I endured as he continued. Plunging into me, stretching flesh around his as I screamed and begged.

"More!" came my cries as he plundered my orifices. Deeper and harder he came inside me. And the night became as fire as he used me. As he pleasured me. As he showered his torments upon me.

As he loved me.

It was a dark and stormy night ...

I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. That's why I drove off the road and into a muddy ditch in the wilds of Massachusetts. I should have had a map, I should have had a flashlight, but I had neither.

I climbed out of the car and even with my minimal automotive knowledge I knew I was fucked. The back drivers' side wheel was bent at an angle. Not conducive to driving.

So I grabbed my briefcase and my overnight bag and climbed back up to the road and started to walk. The small B&B was a few miles ahead, if the GPS was correct (and why would it be? My life was a disaster and nothing else went right!)

In keeping with my Karma, the heavens opened just as I wandered into a wide open stretch of road without trees for cover. I kept trudging but in twenty minutes - about the time I saw the lights - I was a drenched mess.

"Hello?" I swung open the door and immediately spotted candles set throughout the lobby of the small quaint house. There was a faint sound of classical music - violins - wafting throughout the dim space - but no humans to be seen.

I dumped my bags at the registration desk (so identified because of the book, keys and an old fashioned quill pen). In fact, the entire place seemed like a set from a Merchant Ivory film. A bit dusty. Old fashioned.

My head had started to ache, but I persevered and followed the sounds of the violin and now a piano that I could hear. A few more feet and I realized that it sounded live, not memorex.

I called out a few hellos, but heard nothing in return. Then I came around a corner and into what could only be called a music room. A great grand piano stood in the middle of the space and at it sat a man of elegant proportions. To the side another man stood, a violin beneath his chin and his long, black hair thrown over his shoulder as he bowed dramatically at the strings.

I stepped forward and caught my breath at the beauty of the music and the majesty of the men.

They stopped playing simultaneously. Both turned to look at me and I was mesmerized by twin gazes of azure and obsidian.

"At last," said the violinist.

"We've been waiting for you," said the pianist.

And the headache dissolved and my clothes disappeared and I stood before the two clad in a black lace negligee that smelled of age and mildew.

And they pulled me into their arms and I sighed.