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“Just because I put a collar on you does not mean I want you to rut like a dog in my cunt, Hector.”
A single drop of perspiration explored its way down Hector’s chest, ears focusing on the loud clacking of heels going about the room as his eyes were devoid of sight, thanks to the blindfold snugly sitting around his head.
“Although it’s undeniably fun to watch you crawl and bite every bone thrown at you, you still need to learn how to fuck like a man.” Hector’s face grew hotter, an aching blush dusted all over his tan skin.
Wooden drawers being opened and shut, the rustle of the sheets and disappearance of the clacking of Lenore’s heels as she sat down on the bed, putting her left leg over her right one; every feeble sound was blaring noise to the kneeling man’s straining ears. His legs hurt, God knows how long he'd been kneeling on the cold floor, pale bruises blooming on his knees. With every leisurely passing second and every bead of sweat materializing on his creased forehead, Hector’s anticipation, fear and excitement, all were turning up notch by notch. It’s not the first time he had ended up like this, bound, gagged and drooling with a spreader bar between his legs, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time. But what was happening for the first time was Lenore, or, as she ordered him to refer to her during these times, his mistress , taking oh so long to come up with whatever punishment she wished to present him with, because his performance hadn’t been up to the mark.
Whatever she was cooking up, Hector thought to himself in an attempt to calm his racing heart, couldn’t be too bad. Of course, it would be painful, but it couldn’t possibly be any worse than the plethora of agonies the forgemaster had experienced ever since he was brought to Styria. The worst of all had been his endeavor at taking the ring off his finger that kept him bound to his mistress, by loyalty and desires. The pain he felt had been excruciating, as if there was liquid fire soaking into his flesh, chasms opening up in his bones and his viscera being pulled apart by some monstrous force. That was the first and the last time he ever attempted to remove the ring. He sure was relieved to not be spending his days in a stinking cell, eating maggot infested food and shivering in the cold, start naked. But there was only so much relief you are capable of feeling when you’re somebody’s collared sex slave.
The metallic jingle of the chain connected to his collar seized his attention as Lenore picked it up from the floor to deliver a harsh tug.
“Do you know why I’m doing this, pet?”
Pet. Hector had grown to hate the word. It humiliated him, angered him, made him feel less human than he had ever felt. But it also made him feel a dozen different ways which he didn’t want to feel at all. While his eyes fought back tears of shame and helplessness, the rest of his body responded to it, yielded to it, in the most inappropriate ways. Blood rushed southward and a whine escaped without notice, the discomfort between his legs growing more and more prominent and distracting.
Lenore looked him up and down before letting out a small laugh and repeating her question. “Do you, pet?” she nudged the tip of his fully hardened cock with the front of her heel.
“B-because-”
“Go on, go on” Lenore cooed.
“Because I wasn’t g-good en-nough.”
“That’s right. And what are you good at?”
Hector’s chest heaved as his lips trembled. Mortification sealed his lips shut, rendering him unable to utter a word.
Lenore dug her sandal right under the head of her pet’s cock as a threat, making him yelp, “I asked, what are you good at?”
“N-nothing.”
“What’s the most useless thing about you?”
“M-my” Hector’s shoulders shook with every stammer “cock.”
“Very good!” The redhead’s sickly sweet laughter filled the room, the same laugh Hector adored and abhorred equal parts. “So what do you deserve, pet?”
There was little to be thought about.
“To be- to be p-punished.”
Lenore put an approving palm against the silver haired man’s cheek, his head leaning against it in an attempt to kiss it as a reflex. But before his lips could feel the touch of his mistress’s cool skin, his breath got caught in his throat, blocking the way of a gut-wrenching scream trying to force its way through, as hot white pain bloomed between his legs, where the redhead had delivered a well-timed kick.
Tears settled in his eyes that were now wide open, still wrapped up in the blindfold. He keeled over in distress, forehead touching the floor, his hands bound behind his back finding no purchase save for the set of keys in his palm, the ones he was meant to drop if he wanted the scene to end. Lenore had left him a way out. Hector thought that was kind of her.
“How does it feel?” A polite question, asked in the most impolite way, with Lenore’s heel digging into the silver haired man’s scalp. Hector, drooling through his gag, face flush against the ground, could muster up only a pathetic muffled groan in reply.
“Hope you’re not comfortable.” The heel dug in harder, a tantalizing sob fought its way through the gag. “Discomfort is the whole point here, after all. Or maybe-” Lenore grabbed a handful of silver hair and pulled, bringing the man’s face closer to her, “maybe this is what is comfortable to you? Kicked around and stepped on, isn’t that what you’re used to? Meant for ?” Her words were in contrast with the soothing kiss she placed on the corner of Hector’s mouth. The latter chased the kiss to be stopped with a firm slap across his cheek, a searing imprint of slender fingers taking shape.
He would slap himself if he could, too. Despite several attempts, the forgemaster could never stop himself from chasing her touch, the touch that brought him unimaginable pain, but also brought him the closest to what pleasure could feel like. He hadn’t seen the sun in months, but he had woken up everyday to Lenore’s glowing face and saccharine smiles. So when her touch was only a hair’s breadth apart, it's impossible for him to deprive himself of it.
“Don’t get so ahead of yourself, pet. Don’t you wanna be a good pup?”
A whine escaped his lips, he nodded and leaned further into her hand. Lenore stepped down from the bed, leveling her mischievous eyes with Hector’s covered ones.
With the back of her hand, she gently caressed the underside of his shaft. A wanton twitch and a pitiful whine was rewarded with a harsh smack on the head of his dick, which elicited a dejected sob.
“Let’s start with the basics, okay pup?” The redhead wrapped her fingers around his member and gave it a few strokes feigning to grant gratification before steadying her hand in one place.
“Fuck my hand.” And Hector couldn’t help but oblige.
The fireplace to Hector’s left blazed ominously, fighting to keep the room warm against the bone chilling winds drifting in through the window to his right. Lenore kept him from freezing to death. Hector thought that was kind of her. Lenore thought Hector had a twisted perception of kindness, much to her amusement.
He began to fuck up nervously, gained pace and confidence with his growing need to chase his release. Body strung tight with craving, heavy pants followed in quick succession, hips relentlessly bucking up despite straining thighs. With her free hand, Lenore explored Hector’s chest, tracing over and between the imprints of his ribs. A pinch and a rub on each perky bud on his pectorals made him twist his body in a dilemma of pulling away or pushing his chest out further into her hand. Ropes of drool on his chin rolled down his neck that looked like it was mauled by a tiger from their earlier training sessions . Lenore collected some on her fingertip and wiped it on his cheek. “Messy pup” she smiled.
A moment or two later, the redhead retracted both her hands, watched Hector buck up into air with desperation like a canine in heat, and laughed. Laughed because she knew how bad Hector wanted this. Laughed because she knew he had no option other than wanting it so bad. With bruising force she grabbed his bobbing shaft, prompting a full-throated scream which was muffled by the gag.
“Once you start you simply can’t stop, can you?”
The pain was unbearable, but it felt so unbearably good , Hector hated himself for it. His slit eagerly oozed precum.
Lenore let go of his length and went further downward, taking his balls in her merciless hold. With her free hand she undid his gag, setting his hoarse screams free.
“Does it feel good?”
Hector did not know how to reply to that. So he stayed sobbing and quivering.
Her grip tightened. “Does it, pup? Don’t you fucking lie to me.” Hector nodded but Lenore signalled him to use words with a pull.
Through gasps and whines, he spoke, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, it does, it feels so goo-”
He was rewarded with a harsh tug, searing pain engulfed his groin as his voice broke into a shriek.
“Does it still feel good?”
“....too much.”
“Can’t hear you, pup.”
“Doesn’t feel good. Hurts too much.” Hector trilled with the rise of his hips and jut of his abdomen as Lenore’s grip continued to tighten. She added his shaft back into her grip and moved it around in her hold, evoking pained moans.
“Do you want me to let you go?”
The silver haired man nodded vigorously, tears now freely flowing down his cheeks.
“Bark for me then.” Confused silence took over all the noises escaping Hector as he tried to make sense of what his mistress had just said.
“Bark like the little bitch you are if you want me to release your pathetic bits.” The forgemaster’s head spun with those words as Lenore drew small circles on his balls with her other hand, drawing out moans while her hold on Hector’s genitals remained bruising and cruel. She pulled hard and rough, testing the elasticity of his member with unforgiving strength, making the poor man thrash around in humiliation and pain.
He began with short yelps that evolved into his best imitation of barks, sobs racking his body and breaking his voice. Lenore broke into a fit of giggles, jiggled her hold on him to let his cock and balls slap together before letting go and patting his head, wiping the precum off her hand onto his hair.
“That’s a good puppy!”
Hector couldn’t stop sniveling. He had already given his dignity away the day he had sworn his loyalty to Lenore in his cell that day. But at that moment, he was made to realize it all over again, the shards of his crumbled sense of self respect cutting through his own skin.
The redhead stood up and put her pet’s gag back on but undid his blindfold.
Hector’s eyes were bloodshot from crying, tears steadily streaming down as he struggled to catch his breath. He looked as debauched and helpless as he was. The pain was gone but a tingling sensation remained paired with emptiness.
He watched Lenore step away from him with a complacent smile on her face. She picked up the thin rod with a thick handle and an ‘L’ shaped end off the bed, faced the forgemaster before walking up to the fireplace.
“I’m going to make you mine today, pet.” Lenore drawled. Hector would chuckle if he could, for she spoke like he had any part of him left for himself anymore.
The redhead put the ‘L’ shaped end of the rod into the fire. Panic began to bubble inside Hector. “I’m going to brand you.”
The moonlight waltzing its way through the window and blaze of the fireplace casted contrasting patterns of light and shadow over him, making his hair look differently colored on both sides, as the fear in his eyes shone brighter than ever. The room was silent save for Hector’s occasional hiccups and the steady crackling of burning wood. After a while when his mistress pulled the rod out of the fire, its tip was glowing red. She clicked her tongue in impatience, “Too hot.”
Waiting for the rod to cool down to the optimal temperature in her hand, she walked back over to where Hector was positioned. Her fingers combed their way through his hair, gently rubbing on his scalp, giving him a sense of placidity. She brought the rod so close to his face he could practically feel the heat radiating off it. His heart was caught up in his throat.
“Where do you want it?”
How about nowhere? He wanted to say, but settled for shaking his head side to side in negative.
Lenore scowled playfully. “That won’t do. If you can’t choose, then i’ll do it for you.”
The rod hovered over his face for a few seconds before moving down to his neck while Lenore contemplated where to brand him, or rather pretended to contemplate. It was brought down to hover above his chest and Hector instinctively leaned away. A rough hand fisted in his hair and pulled him back. “What good will moving away do, pup?” The redhead placed a gentle kiss on his lips. She released her grip on his hair and reached for his still eager cock, grinning like a child does after flooding an anthill.
All colour drained from the forgemaster’s face. His eyes scanned his mistress’s face for a hint of jest, all he could find was jest, and he knew it was anything but a joke. He shook his head vigorously as Lenore began to stroke his length, the rod in her hand going from red to an ashy gray hue.
It was more than he could ever take. He felt for the keys in his sweating palms and flung the set as far as he could, the jingling of the keys a signal for the scene to be over.
Lenore only grinned wider, her fangs glinting in the firelight making her look equal parts enchanting and vicious. She scratched lightly under the tip with her whetted nails, thumb digging into the slit and collecting precum. Hector did not feel the pleasure, he only felt horror. She’s supposed to stop. This is supposed to end . His mind screamed as he tried to back away as far as he could, breaths of distress fighting to make their way out.
With a leg she pinned down one of his thighs, dropping his shaft to deliver an unexpectedly painful punch across his nose. Hector saw stars as his head spun, blood gushing out abruptly.
“Are you going to crawl away? Are you going to shriek like a banshee going off? Are you going to let entire Styria know you’re getting your pathetic excuse of a dick branded? Scream for me, Hector. Please scream as loud as you can. Give me the satisfaction.”
With a swift motion of her hand, she undid his gag again, regaining her hold on his cock.
“Lenore- Mistress, please, please, please, don’t, no, n- ” a series of pleas made in haste fell on deaf ears.
The tip of the rod touched the ventral side of his shaft at meteoric pace, his vision engulfed by whiteness instantaneously. The letter seared into his sensitive skin, his ears tortured and throat clawed by his own scream. The pain was momentary, for within a moment or two of the impact, his body gave out under the shock.
A flash of an assuaged predatory smile was the only image his mind registered before Hector’s consciousness collapsed like a house of cards.