I love my Master.

Even when he’s cruel to me...

Especially when he’s cruel to me.

I hiss at the crack of pain that shoots across my bottom, soothed a second later by his hips pressed against me.

“Daydreaming during playtime?” He seethes, genuine anger dripping from his voice, “Could you think of something more insulting?”

Master’s cold fingers weave into my hair, sending a shiver of delight through me, accompanied by the slightest bit of fear ... fingers curl into a fist, yanking my head back...

I won’t cry.

I refuse to cry.

It had been weeks.

I had a right!

With a skip and a stutter, my senses picked up on the empty space behind me, tracking the dark shadow that loomed around to face my bent and bound form. My hair pulled even tighter in his grasp as he leans down to be level with me.

“I wasn’t Master, I pr-.”

That smile...

That sickly sweet, kindhearted smile...

It stops my heart.

Deep down, to the core of my soul I know this: that smile is a warning.

When he shushes me, he touches my lips, kisses my cheek ... every lingering sensation creates a slithering bit of fear that’s slowly building in place of delight. Master’s lips are as soft as any lover’s should be, when he presses them by my ear, and whispers: “It’s okay. I know what you were thinking about. You fucking whore!”

I probably ruined his mood entirely.

I can see it in the way his strange, hooded eyes are deceptively relaxed; the corners of his lips still holding traces of that soft kiss. If my hands weren’t bound behind me, they’d be running through that soft, short, dark hair in an effort to calm him before he could think of a suitable punishment.

In knowing what’s to come, I sometimes wonder just how human Master is.

He can truly be as cruel as a demon.

“M ... master?” I shudder.

It’s coming.

The storm...

I can feel the thunder like a quake in my soul.

He pulls back, fingers still entangled with my hair, and for a split second his expression is still sweet and serene. In the next it’s contorted, the storm had reach us--reached him, and I feel the sting of both sides of his free hand. His eyes are like a forest fire, consuming me.

Master continues this until I’m sure that I’m already bruising.

I can taste the blood inside my cheeks ... my teeth had shredded the soft flesh until it swelled.

My nipples harden at the new-found shame when he stops.

They ache with every heart-beat, the scars from before burning from the instant memory.

Suddenly, all at once ... it’s cold but for my face. I realize that Master left the room, and the door is open allowing for a draft. I can see him on his phone ... Every now and then he glances over at me, a wicked grin playing on his lips. He makes several phone calls, some ending in disappointment, before finally returning to the playroom, phone still in hand.

“Hold on just a second,” He tells the person, then presses the phone to his chest and kneels down so that he can look me in the eye. A soft smile is playing on his lips again. My heart skips another beat. He reaches out and starts to play with my curls.

“You value you’re loyalty to me, yes?”

I nod carefully. His smile deepens, as he instructs the person on the phone to, “Tell her”. The cold plastic touches my flushed skin, and my heart stops.

“We’re going to fuck you so much you won’t know who you’re Master is anymore, you greedy pig!” A cruel voice says, before laughing.

Master sees the look of shock fall over me like a lingering raincloud, and takes that as his cue to pull the phone away from me. That satisfied smile softens the corner of his lips, and I struggle for a moment, wishing that I could kiss him ... maybe convince him otherwise.

Should I find comfort in that Master is pleased with my reaction?

The ropes start to burn and desperation kicks in a panic.

I can’t find comfort anywhere...

He is my only Master.

I promised that no one would ever touch me.

No one but Him.

Will he blame me for breaking my promise?

Have I set myself up to fail my own Master?

As his, I should want to please him, right?

I should be proud that he wants to share me...

Any good pet could find comfort in that.

But I’m not a good pet...

That’s why Master is punishing me with this.

The click of Master’s phone closing brings be back. My head hangs in defeat, making no attempt to watch his reactions. I feel his fingertips brush my hair.

“Have you accepted you’re punishment, little pig?” He whispers, gently.

My nod is weak.

I am but prey in the clutch of my captor.

First and foremost.

This, is paramount.

“Hmm?”

“Yes, Master.”

My eyes are burning. I can feel my tears dripping onto the concrete floor, draining the joy from me. Master walks around the playroom after that, and grabs his favorite gag for me. Its a black rubber half-mask with a jaw-breaker sized rubber ball on the inside.

Obediently, I open my mouth.

When he’s finished strapping the gag, he begins to reposition me.

I remain bound at the wrists, but I am no longer bound to the small side-table. He instructs me to stand, legs spread, as he gets more rope. When he finds it, he stands in front of me, tying it under my breasts, but instead of closing it in the back he crosses and pulls up around my neck. Master then runs the rope over my shoulders, down the length of my body, and has both sides of the cord between my inner-thighs and back up again. It’s then re-threaded the same way once more, where he finally changes the pattern.

Instead of pulling the rope over my shoulders this time, he wraps it around my throat entirely, but then ties it off with the crossed chord at my back.

After checking that everything is how he wants, stressing each knot to make sure that it won’t fail, my Master gets one of his meat hooks down. They’re latched into his make-shift pulley-system that hangs by chains ... He can control them with the chord threaded through it. Master attaches the hook to the piece of rope at my shoulders before pulling me so that my toes just barely graze the ground.

The tightening of the ropes as I’m lifted spreads and the softest, most swollen, and abused parts of me ache from the tension. My body is shivering a little, but Master pretends to ignore this. He simply goes to grab fishhooks, and fishing wire.

My lower lip starts to quiver, and I think to beg, but before I can even whimper my Master shushes me with a harsh finger to my lips. “Not one fucking word.”

He kisses me, then kneels down like a graceful King, threading the wire with precision.

I brace myself and close my eyes.

Another, loving, passionate kiss to my pussy.

I’m ready.

As if sensing my resolve, Master pierces my pussy lips through the scar tissue, licking each one as he wraps the wire around my thighs and pulls them apart. He gives me one last kiss, then stands and stress-tests all of the knots again.

I love that my Master keeps me safe. ♥

He nods, content with his work, and I can see him slip out of that methodical, calculating self that he is when he’s thinking. That’s when he looks at me, rather than his bondage creation. For the first time in almost an hour.

He chuckles, looking at my now practically trembling form, and moves closer to me.

Master removes the gag temporarily, and kisses me, deep and passionate.

For a moment, I forget that I’m about to be punished, and all I can think about is how much I love my Master.

I want to please him, more than anything in this world.

I have to.

That’s all I exist for.

Even if that means destroying my loyalty.

It’s all for Him.

“What the hell? Is she a child?” Someone says suddenly from behind us, and Master breaks the kiss to look at the other man. In that brief space between when only I could see him, there was a slight snarl. He was not happy to be interupted.

But he did invite these men, and they were guest, so by the time he’d faced them the glower had magicked into a warm laugh.

“She’s not a kid, she’s just a little smaller than most women.”

He looks back to me with pride in his eyes and begins putting the gag back in place... “For now,” he mouths quietly, and winks, turning back to his guest.

Master has never shown me off before.

I’m usually just kept in the playroom.

Only let out on a leash, or for bedtime.

Now ... I find comfort that there is pride lighting up his eyes when he looks at me.

“She’s at least legal though, right?”

Again, Master laughs. Maybe, I can be okay with this.

“Mal’s twenty-eight.” He says simply.

“Hmm...”

“Does. Not. Look it.”

I blush and look away from Master for just a moment. The man that grabs my chin and forces me to meet his gaze, is not my Master. His hands are callous, but sweaty ... and gross.

I see the other man behind walk towards me with intent, but cannot find my Master.

Reactively, I snarl at the man that grabbed me and make to bite his hand.

Master doesn’t notice, doesn’t call out to discipline me ... and the fight just ... leaves me.

It’s like being an abandoned puppy on the side of the road.

He lets the man go on to feel my breasts, my ass, and then eventually slides his finger into my pussy. My face flushes with shame, and I try to look at Master again only to catch sight from the far side of the playroom ... setting up what looks like a camera.

My body feels like it’s going to burst with terror until he looks up at me and smiles reassuringly. Silently, he points to his guest. When I don’t understand, I see the flash of anger once again.

‘Look. At. Him.’ He mouths.

I obey.

I look at the man’s shoulder, trying hard not to enjoy what he’s doing to me.

It’s not my Master doing it, and I can’t help but want to hold on to what little loyalty I can maintain. The intruder slips his finger in and out of me. He groans and licks my neck like an animal. I pray he doesn’t mark me.

I’ll have to beg Master to cut it off.

“How do you keep her so tight?” The man groans, stroking himself.

Master doesn’t answer. I glance to see him standing in the back of the play room, watching through the camera until he realizes I’ve looked away again and snaps his head up. Another man accompanies him, then slaps his shoulder to calm him before saying something I can’t read.

With dread I realize this man too has begun to move towards me, but Master stops him. ‘You’ll have you’re turn.’ I see him say.

Not long after that, the first man moves his mouth to my breast. His tongue flicks my nipple and he occasionally sucks it. My face grows even more red as he brings me closer to climax, switching between both nipples. Then he stops, and looks over to Master, now noticing his other friend as well.