Friday, June 1, 2012

57 ALTERNATIVE PROGRAMMING

~Chapter 57~
ALTERNATIVE PROGRAMMING

she
All previous thoughts of Edward on his knees are placed firmly on the back burner when Master approaches with my collar in hand. I am 100% his, and he is 100% my Master.

“Are you ready, princess?”  He crouches in front of me, bringing his eyes level with my own.

My stomach dips as I willingly submit myself to what will be our longest scene yet. “Yes, Master.”

Master fastens the collar around my neck. “So you remember, you’re entirely mine to do with as I please until tomorrow at 3 pm. I want to caution you, Isabella, this will feel different to you. The pace, the intensity, the activities I’m able to direct with the extended scene.”

Gulp.

Master cups my chin and holds my eyes with his. “You may feel lost at times, or fear that I’m not paying attention. But I’m telling you right now— and I want you to keep this close to your heart—I am with you in the scene. At all times. That’s my job. And your job is to trust that. Trust me. That’s it. But that’s the hardest part.

“I want you to give this your best effort and remember what I’m telling you. You need to understand, we’re not going to process this scene until late tomorrow afternoon. So if you find yourself in a scary place, I need you to use your safe word. Do you understand?”

I answer with a shaky voice, “Yes, Master.” Scary places and feeling lost. An ominous warning.

“One more thing, princess. Did you complete your homework assignment?”

My heart stutters at his question. This is it.

Hell yes, I read every word on that site and about twenty linked articles as well. The words and images danced in my head all night, mostly terrifying but undeniably exciting me, sending me back for extended research this morning. It’s no longer a question of whether I want this; once I checked the box, I placed the responsibility squarely in Master’s skilled hands.

“I did, Master.” My voice sounds shaky, but Master remains confident.

He glides his thumb back and forth across my chin. “Good. The same rules apply. Understand?”

I do. There’s no babying, no comforting, nothing to take the edge off. I know now for certainty that this will enter our scene, and Master’s reminded me it’s just like everything else. There are no special provisos for scary things, just the standard contract—trust and obey.

“Yes, Master.” I can’t help the chill that quivers down my spine as I acquiesce once more to anything and everything.

Master nods once and presses his lips against mine. He seems to be gathering himself, too. When he pulls back and opens his eyes, I have no doubt but that Master has entered the scene. He stands and swiftly delivers his first command. “Go into your room, pick out a new pair of panties that you think will please me, along with a pair of sexy shoes I haven’t seen yet. Dress only in that, and come stand next to me.”

“Yes, Master.”  

I thumb through my new stash and pull out a hot pink thong. The shoe selection is easy; I only have three new pairs that might interest Master—i.e., they’re over four-inch heels.  I pull on the sluttiest pair first—silver peep-toe pumps with a clear heel—and hope he’ll approve. I move as efficiently as possible and line myself up next to Master’s chair, wrists crossed behind my back and feet hip-width apart.

Master seems engrossed in his football game and doesn’t acknowledge me right away. Not gonna lie, that stings a bit, especially as I was really hoping to wow him with my selections.  I attempt to wait patiently, forcing my eyes to the floor and concentrating on my posture. Whistles are blown, signaling the end of a play, yet still, Master ignores me. This goes on for at least five minutes, and my confidence begins to wear away. Just as I’m beginning to lose heart, Master gestures toward me and commands me to step closer. I eagerly comply, hoping this will lead to his touch, or at least, his attention.

I hold my breath as Master reaches for the fabric barely covering my pussy and tucks it with two fingers inside my folds. Eyeing his work, he commands, “Turn!” and then, “slower, princess,” as I shuffle my feet in a small circle. “Stop!” he demands when I’m halfway around, and he pulls the floss into the crevice between my ass cheeks and secures it there by lifting on the scant horizontal fabric.

“Bend over and hold your ankles,” he commands, and I comply immediately. He doesn’t touch me again, but leaves me in this awkward pose through another series of whistles by the referees.

“I’m ready to see the next outfit now.”

“Yes, Master,” I respond, scurrying off to the guest room. I rush back to his side, slightly breathless from my efforts.  He dips his finger into the front of the clear thong and watches the way it molds to my wet lips.

“This one’s really nice, princess. Have you worn it before?”

“No, Master. Not…out of the house.”

His eyebrows pop up with understanding and delight. “You bought these just to wear at home? And what do you do when you’re wearing these?”

No use evading the answer. “I masturbate, Master.”

“Is that right?” he smiles, tugging the fabric side to side and watching the way my pussy presses against the transparent material. I know from experience it’s beyond lewd, and I love watching myself in the mirror in these. Of course, that experience pales in comparison to being studied by Master.

“I will definitely need to see that sometime soon. Go change back into the silver shoes and keep these on. I think I have a new favorite. Oh and Isabella?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Don’t shave your pussy again until further notice.”

It’s not mine to question, but I can’t help speculating on my way to the bedroom. He doesn’t like my bare pussy all of a sudden? He wants to shave me again himself? Ah…the light bulb goes on. My little lab fantasy has him wondering and fantasizing about how I look with hair.

HE
Isabella changes once more and returns my side. I let my eyes roam freely from the tiny discs of her heels, through the swollen wet lips of her pussy shamelessly pressing against her see-through panties, to the hardened peaks of her nipples. Her shoulders are rounded again, clearly a trouble spot for her, and one I’ve corrected enough times that she should be more vigilant.

I stand. Isabella’s chest rises and falls more quickly as her breathing picks up. She’s poised to follow my next command, having no clue she’s been caught slacking off.

“Your posture is unacceptable,” I tell her.

She swiftly pulls her shoulders back and apologizes.

“You’ve lost the right to stand. Down on your knees. Clasp your hands behind your neck.”

“Yes, Master,” she answers, obeying my commands.

“Elbows back. Push your tits into my hands.”

She blushes hot pink as she forces her chest into my waiting palms. I pull and squeeze at her nipples but she doesn’t pull back. “That’s better, princess. Show me that good posture until the next commercial break.”

“Yes, Master.”

I fall back onto the cushions of the couch and turn my attention back to the Saints and the Lions until the first Audi commercial comes on. Opening my pants, I signal for her to take me into her mouth, and I praise her as she lavishes me with attention until the game comes on again. I pull out of her mouth and order her to all fours, pulling one of the large coffee table books from the pile and setting it along her back. “Let’s see if you can keep your back straight until the next commercial break.”

She does well with this challenge, and I again praise her and reward her by allowing her to take me into her mouth. This time, when the game resumes, I ask her, “Are you ready to try again to stand up properly for me, princess?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You may go stand next to the TV with your hands clasped behind your neck. Don’t disappoint me.”

It’s easy to watch her from the corner of my eye while appearing to be more interested in the game, though nothing could be further from the truth.  I tune out the half-time hoopla, opting instead to summon Isabella over and allow her to suck me off to completion this time.

“Since you’ve done such a nice job pleasing me, I’m going to provide you with alternative entertainment for the second half of the game,” I inform her, drawing my fingers through her hair and cupping the back of her head.

Her eyes flash with excitement, “Thank you, Master.”

I stand, tuck myself back into my pants, and command, “Heel.” She obeys immediately, and soon enough, I have her on my bed on hands and knees.

she
When Master promised ‘alternative entertainment’, I certainly wasn’t picturing being fastened naked and spread-eagled to his bed…face angled toward his laptop, kinky fetish reality porn playing less than a foot from my face.  I cannot deny that I feel especially vulnerable tonight bound this way, with my ass completely open and exposed.

There’s a pillow under my belly, which I’d assumed Master slipped in there to support my back, but now I suspect he’s done it to prevent any pussy-to-mattress contact.  And what I wouldn’t give for just a wee bit of relief from the pressure that’s been building since well before Master left me here with kink-dot-com’s most recent sex slave training video. I feel a kinship with Brandi, the buxom blonde who’s enrolled in Sir John’s special brand of psychological eroticism, not to mention bondage, forced orgasms, spankings… fuck, I might come just from watching.

Would I be in trouble if I did? Master spread me and tied me tight, but the only instruction he gave me before kissing me and leaving me here was to enjoy watching Brandi get tortured. I attempt to leave a mental post-it on my muddled mind to ask Master later if coming without touching myself is prohibited.

I close my eyes as Brandi’s “Day Two” begins, but it’s no use. Her moans and the crackle of a whip draw my attention back to the screen and I’m right there in the cold dark dungeon with her and her captors. When her Master turns on the vibrator, I moan as loudly as Brandi in anticipation of her relief. “Do not come,” they order her, placing the large buzzing head on her clit.

I feel your pain, Brandi.

“Hey, what’s all the noise coming from this room?” Master says, placing one hand on my ankle and causing me to startle.

He brushes his hand up along my calf, into the dip at the back of my knee. Please, please, please keep going, I beg him with my most powerful mental beams. He continues up my thigh and then stops, rolling his thumb in soft circles on my vulnerable skin.

“Oh, princess, you are good and keyed up, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” I manage to grunt out, unable to avoid watching the screen. My counterpart is receiving her own brand of torture right now, being brought to the edge again and again, only to be denied. She begs out loud for release, and I pray silently. My Master will not be swayed any more than hers will.

“Wow, Brandi’s having a rough time tonight, eh?” He moves up closer to my head and sits down next to me on the bed so he can watch. “Look how they’re teasing her so mercilessly.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “It’s so unfair.”

Master runs a finger down my side, catching the flattened flesh of my breast and stopping at my hip bone. He flutters his fingers across my lower back and cups the cheeks of my ass in one hand. It feels like heaven wherever he makes contact with my skin.

“You getting pretty desperate, princess?”

“Yes, Master,” I admit, certain that my honesty will be rewarded.

“Excellent,” he answers, the pushes off the bed, taking his glorious hands with him. “I’ll be back in a while. Keep a close watch on Brandi for me.” He turns up the volume on the laptop, and he’s gone.


HE
The Saints have this game locked up, but even if it were compelling, there’s no way more than ten percent of my attention would be in this room.  My eyes are on the game but my mind is working through the scene. Of all that we’ve explored together, this will be our greatest challenge. And that’s why I need her just barely holding on. I want her dripping wet, half-crazed, and begging for it. She was already there by the end of the third quarter. The rest is just insurance.

On my way into the bedroom, I open the top drawer of the curio cabinet in the living room and pocket the brand new finger rimmer and a fresh tube of lube. Ensuring both are hidden from her view, I take my seat again by her side and watch the fate of Brandi. I count two penises and a dildo, and Brandi is starting to look well worn.

Isabella looks at me with pleading eyes, and she watches my every move as I pause the laptop and set it out of the way on the nightstand. I take my seat again and trace random patterns along her back.

“How you feeling, princess?”

“Good, Master.”

“Good? Hmmm,” I stop my hand and make as if to walk away. “Maybe I should just leave you with Brandi a big longer—”

Needy, Master,” she quickly corrects herself.

“Ohhhh, needy. As in, desperately horny?”

“Yes, Master.”

“So…” I reach below her body and pinch a scrunched nipple.  “This is pretty sensitive then?”

“Mmmyesss, Master.”

“And this?” I trace a finger inside the crease where her leg meets the curve of her ass and she squirms as much as her ropes allow, which is hardly anything.

“Yes, Master.”

“Well that is excellent news. How about this?” I draw one finger through the valley between her ass cheeks and she pushes back into my hand. Attagirl.

“Yesss,” she hisses.

“I have a little treat for you, princess.” Reaching under the edge of the bed, I retrieve the Hitachi Magic Wand I stowed there earlier. Her eyes widen as she recognizes the toy. “Did you see what those men did to Brandi with this?” I ask.

“Yes, Master. They…teased her.”

I shake my head gravely. “That wasn’t very nice, was it?”

“No, Master,” she agrees, petitioning my softer side with her serious expression.

“Well I don’t want to do that to you…” I allow a pained edge to my voice, “but I’m going to need something in return.”

“Anything, Master,” she promises breathlessly.

She’s so damn agreeable and eager right now, it almost takes my own breath away. I bend forward and fit my lips over hers. Resting my cheek on the bed so our noses are practically touching, I lay out the bargain. In a voice gentler than I normally use in dom mode, I say, “You’re so incredibly beautiful like this, all spread open and needy for me.” I place my hand on her back and slide it to her ass. Coaxing the globe of her cheek to one side, I brush my thumb along dividing line. Her breath catches and her eyes roll back in her head.

“Here’s the deal, Isabella.”

I flick on the vibrator and move it to her thigh. Her eyelids flutter. My lips move closer to her ear and I tell her, “If you want this…” I move the vibe just outside of her swollen lips and she gasps. “…you’re going to have to beg…for this.”

I draw my fingertip along that crack again, with enough pressure that she understands what this is. Her eyes register a flash of fear, but that is quickly swept away by determination.

“Yes, Master.”

I shake my head no, because it’s vital to get this right. By making her actively beg, I’ll be able to keep a closer watch on her responses. I switch the vibrator off.

“That doesn’t sound like begging to me, princess.”         

“Please, Master. Will you please…?”

“What, Isabella? Say it. Say it out loud.”

“Please…” Her eyes beseech me for help.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I coax her. “You can do it.”

she
Am I really about to beg …for that? What’s my alternative? If I don’t get some relief soon, I think I might have to gnaw my hands off and take matters into my own…wrists. Gah, I’m losing my mind!

“Focus,” Master says, pressing the vibrator against my thigh once more and turning on the switch.

His eyes are compassionate and kind. This isn’t a trick. My Master is trying to help me through this. I clench my teeth and spit out the difficult words.

“Please, Master, I need you to …”

WHAT?  What do I need?

Trust, Bella.

“I need you to fuck me in the ass.”

Pride shines through his crystal green orbs, warming me with their glow. “Well done, Isabella.”

Master shifts into action mode. “Close your eyes and concentrate on this.” He moves the vibrator to the edge of my pussy, brushing it against me soft as a whisper. “Reach for it,” he commands, laying his palm against my back and caressing me with his long delicate thumb.

I have one goal in my sights—making and keeping contact with that magic wand. “Good girl, that’s it,” Master soothes, as I press up and out as much as my bonds will allow.

The instant I feel the heavenly impact along my lower lips, there’s an accompanying wet sensation along the crack of my ass and a sliding motion. A definite pressure. It’s scary but it’s not unpleasant.

The vibrator is pulled away, and I growl in frustration. Master’s finger presses along the crack insistently. I gasp as he spreads me open back there and everything clenches.

“Easy, girl,” Master soothes, bringing the buzzing wand back to my desperate lips. “Do you like that?”

“Yessss, Master!” I hiss out, surprising myself with how animalistic my voice sounds.

“Time to beg,” Master informs me.

“Please, please, please, Master. I want you in my ass. Please!”

“That’s it, my sweet Isabella.”

“AHHHH!” My brain goes into overload. The vibe is suddenly against my clit, and at the same time, something is pressing inside that other place I don’t want to think about. But it’s there and it stings and the buzzing against my clit is too much and that other thing presses and moves and it’s so dirty and uncomfortable but Master’s hand is right there making everything okay and holding me open.

My eyes are closed tight and a scene from the video plays before my eyelids:  Brandi on hands and knees on the cold concrete floor of the dungeon, being face-fucked by one man while being taken from behind by a second, who’s also pounding into her tiny asshole with a dildo and she’s loving it. I’m screaming and coming and shaking and everything is gone except Master’s hands and his soft voice all around me.

HE
“You’re so perfect,” I tell her over and over again, smoothing my palms across her back and thighs and leaving her sensitive midsection alone. For now.  She’s barely been touched and she’ll recover quickly. “Go ahead and shake out your legs,” I instruct her, after removing her ankle cuffs and working my way to her wrists.

I chuckle lightly when I see that her eyes are still shut and her face registers pure bliss and exhaustion. “You can open your eyes now.”

She blinks open and smiles shyly at first, but upon seeing my own wide grin, she broadens into a huge smile.

Her forehead furrows as she takes me in. “You’re still dressed…Master,” she adds, remembering herself at the last moment.

“Yes,” I chuckle.

“But, how did you…”

“Oh, princess, you didn’t think that was me, did you?”

She blushes bright red and sputters, “I…well…I mean…what…?”

I lay down alongside my beautiful misguided sub and bring one hand to the back of her neck to work out the kinks. “Isabella,” I explain, not without a smidgen of good-natured humor, “that was just the first step. A reconnaissance mission, if you will.”

“Oh,” she responds, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to insult you…it just felt so large!”

I shake my head and refrain from telling her how much different it will feel when I’m inside her. “No. Not large.”

“Can I see? Master?”

“Sure,” I answer, opening my other fist and showing her the tiny finger rimmer that was just inside her body.

“Oh my god, that’s it?”

“Baby steps.” I massage the tight muscles of her shoulders.

She frowns. “Here I thought I was being so brave…”

“You were brave,” I reassure her immediately. “Don’t think I don’t know how hard that was for you. You were glorious in your trust.”

“But it was just that silly little thing,” she answers, disappointment lacing her words.

“Hey.” I cup her chin and kiss her on the nose. “I have a plan for you. It’s not your job to make judgments. All I expect from you is to do exactly what I tell you to do. Capiche?”

Maybe it’s not the coolest dom move to remind her of when I was spreading ricotta cheese in the kitchen, but my words bring her comfort enough to draw a small smile.

“Capiche.”

“Capiche, Master,” I remind her firmly but with a smile on my face.  “Now get up on all fours and prepare to be reminded exactly how much work we have to do before you’ll be ready to take me in!”

“Yes, Master,” she croaks, scurrying into position as I remove my pants and line up behind her.

“Oh, you are still so wet for me, princess. You must’ve really enjoyed your time in the dungeon with Brandi.”

“Yes, Master.” Her voice shakes as I grab her hips. She’s nervous where I’m going, and that’s not my intention. “Princess, you have a beautiful ass, and I thank you for sharing it with me earlier.” I stroke my hands down her cheeks and she shivers. “But I’m not going there again tonight. I’m going to concentrate all the rest of my efforts right here.”

With that, I drop my hand to her slick vulva and open her up to receive me.

She gasps and falls to her elbows, burying her face in the pillow. I slap her soundly and command, “Up!”

“Yes, Master, I’m sorry for forgetting myself,” she says quickly.

“We are going to be doing some serious work on your posture issue tomorrow.”

“Yes, Master.”

“If I were you, I’d enjoy the attention your pussy is getting right now,” I advise her.

As I press between her soft moist lips, she grips me tightly, heeding my advice. Smart little subbie.

she
Master’s soft rhythmic breathing is less of a comfort than I would’ve hoped. Yes, it confirms his presence, but at the same exact time, it confirms his absence. The reality of spending the night on the floor at Master’s bedside is so far a whole lot less exciting than the fantasy. Add to that the discomfort of having one’s wrists bound above one’s head and chained to the leg of the bed, stripped naked of any clothing or even a sheet, ankles held two feet apart by a spreader bar effectively carrying out Master’s command of “no cheating”…and I haven’t slept one wink. I’m not stalking the digital numbers only because I can’t see the clock from this angle; I can’t see anything but the ceiling.

I understand Master is pushing me, testing me even. And nobody could say I haven’t been warned. I replay Master’s comforting words about being here with me even when I don’t feel that he is, but the memory of his soothing voice is no match for my current loneliness, and if I’m honest, the beginnings of a mild panic.

Closing my eyes, I focus on Master’s breaths and make his rhythm my own, seeking to join him even in the solitary effort of sleeping.  After a while, I have to admit it’s only making me more frustrated that I can’t share in his peaceful slumber. When frustration begins to turn to resentment, I opt for a new strategy entirely. I try my old standby—imagining myself on a fluffy cloud floating…drifting aimlessly…my limbs are relaxed—oh fucking hell! My limbs are tethered and held and anything but relaxed. Not that I’m cramping, just not in any position to pretend I’m cloud surfing right now.

I twist uselessly and settle again onto my back, with literally nowhere else to go.

Quiet, do not wake the beast, the wise part of me warns. But on its heels, an opposite, dangerous thought sweeps in unbidden. Wake Master. He will not be pleased but he will at least be here.

No, that is not an option, unless I am prepared to accept the consequences. And I know I have way more to offer my Master than this lame effort.

Taking a deep breath, I settle into my bonds. Closing my eyes, I search for the joy in being chained here, on the floor beside my Master, with no possibility of freedom, though my cuffs are easily escapable in case of an emergency—Master would have it no other way. I access the excitement I felt initially as he buckled me in here for the night, the beautiful expression of pride and ownership as he wrapped the length of chain around the metal foot of the bed frame and told me how pleased he was to know that as he slept and dreamt, I would be right here, just like this, just for him.

Good God, how that sent a tremor through me.

And how he fastened my feet apart so I couldn’t “inadvertently rub my thighs together or find some other naughty way of getting myself off” while he slept. I see again that gleam in Master’s eyes as he leaned over the side of the bed and teased me relentlessly, wafting that damn feather over every part of my body, tickling, teasing, enjoying the fuck out of making me squirm and moan and even giggle. Ratcheting me into a state of high arousal only to make me listen to the gloating bedsprings and his soft grunts as he relieved himself of his own tension. And just before his soft snoring began, piercing the quiet torture of my delirious desire with his soft, “Sleep well, my princess.”

Though I’m sure I’ll regret it, I allow my thoughts to drift where they so often do when I need my Happy Place. Soon, my Dark Prince fills my mind with his all-consuming presence, and I watch with a vicarious joy as he puts my princess through her paces. I’m feeling particularly cruel tonight, and the Dark Prince is oh-so-obliging in my need for him to be that much stricter with his captive. Even though my body tingles uncomfortably with a fresh wave of lust, I can’t seem to stop myself. The Dark Prince spreads her roughly over his whipping bench and punishes her for crimes I don’t have time to invent, pounding into her forcefully from behind before releasing her from the bench. He stretches her onto a medieval rack—oh, the equipment that is freely available at no cost in my imagination!—and teases her for hours without allowing her to orgasm.

My point of view jumps back and forth from princess to Dark Prince, a mental switch that is triggered by my complete helplessness in the physical world. I appropriate the Dark Prince’s power for my own and draw a deep, malevolent satisfaction in wielding that feather in the hollow of her armpits, the dip of her abdomen, the needy swollen flesh of her fully exposed clit, ripe and dripping with arousal.

Take that, you slutty whore!

But then, without warning, I’m back in the princess’s tormented body. Her frustration is mine. And that damn feather flutters over my aching clit. My hips press up, off the hard wooden rack, but the Dark Prince retracts the feather and even its measly friction is lost. With a wicked chuckle, he returns the feather to the tip of my nipple. My flesh is a field of tiny bumps, each one futilely reaching to achieve contact, even if it’s only to be tickled and tortured further.

Suddenly, he clamps that same nipple and I cry out in pain, struggling against my chains. My own Master’s face replaces my dream-slash-nightmare, his shoulders and head hovering over me, away from the bed. Watching my every move.

How long has he been awake?
How long have I been asleep?
Did I dream that feather, too, or was he…?

The second clamp closes on my other nipple as he brushes the first with the feather.

“Good morning, princess.”


Fuck my life.

2 comments:

  1. Well that was intense! It's interesting to observe the difference between the way my mind reacts to reading this and the way my body reacts. I'm not quite sure what to make of that.....she seems to be enjoying it so far....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Don't try to think it through- just feel!
      x

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