The Price of Defiance

She was watching me. Standing in the corner of the room, crop in hand, her eyes were fixed on me. I tried not to wince when she slapped the leather tip off the bare plaster wall behind her, but I failed. I cringed so hard the weight-lifting bench I was strapped to scraped over the floor, just a little, and her resulting snigger, though soft, seemed so loud to me.

This had been on the cards for days. I’d known that watching that video of a mousy haired girl fucking her way through that pack of beach bums was a bad idea. I don’t know what devilment had been on me last Friday, but I’d not only defied my Mistress in watching porn while she was away. I’d left evidence of my disobedience right where she’d find it. Every time she came back from her business trips the first thing she did was check my internet history. Now, I was paying for it.

My already sore wrists, chest, waist and ankles stung where the rope had been chafing. She’d used hemp rope, which was her go to type for punishments. It itched, dragged and burned every time. Silly me for thinking she wouldn’t use it because of the unhealed scuffs left over from last week. Within minutes I’d opened up old wounds.

She started to swing the crop. Back and forth, tick-tocking in front of her long legs. She was still wearing her dark brown skirt and white shirt from her business trip. Her stockinged feet treaded the floor, belying her calm exterior. She wanted to be over here with me, on me, but she was holding herself back. I wished I had half of her restraint.

Suddenly, the crop stilled mid-swing and Mistress frowned. It was her most stern expression and it left me wondering what I’d done. I was trussed up, for Christ’s sake, how could I have upset her further?

She licked her lips and I knew she was about to tell me. “You think this is funny, do you?” she asked. Her silken voice was laden with menace. “Do you find some amusement in punishment?”

What the hell? Oh God, I must have smiled when I thought of her forcing herself to stay at the other side of the room. “N-No, Mistress.”

“I don’t believe you. You’ve been the brattiest boy this past few months, I’m starting to think you enjoy this more than anything else I do to you.”

Truth be told, I did love to be disciplined by her. I loved it when she turned cold on me, when I became something she felt compelled to crush. It made me feel completely at ease with myself, and wholly at peace when it was over.

But this I wasn’t so sure of. She wasn’t looking at me the way she usually did. Her expression wasn’t stern anymore, it was wicked. She was smiling, all teeth and burning eyes.

I watched her drop the riding crop on the floor, then bend over to pick something else up. The top two buttons of her blouse popped open while she was bent over, exposing fleshy tits and white lace. My cock throbbed, reminding me of just how hard lying here, naked and fully exposed, made me.

But then she took a few steps forward. Smothering me in her warm cleavage for a pitiful few seconds, she slipped a blindfold over my eyes, plummeting me into darkness. A few lazy blows peppered across my skin, nails scraped my nipples, belly and thighs. I tried to get away from the delirium inducing tickle of her fingertips scratching my balls but couldn’t.

All wriggling stopped when I felt something cold and wet pressing against my asshole. A painful stretch followed by a pop made me hiss in protesting delight, but then I felt something else when I moved. It was a wire tickling my butt cheek.

I concentrated on my skin, trying to feel her, but I was too conscious of whatever plug she had just put inside me. “Mistress?” I whispered.

Her only reply was to snag my balls. I winced at the sting caused by my reflexive jerk. Tugging, pulling and stretching, and then she left them alone. I wiggled again, trying to work out what she’d left there. It was heavy, sticky and tight. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I didn’t really want this, but then something brushed my lip. It was a nipple.

I drew it in, breathing in her musky perfume, tasting her body lotion and a slight tang of saltiness. She moaned and I decided I didn’t care what she did to me. I deserved it all for defying one of her few rules.

She backed off and I heard her rustling in the box at the back of the room. When she came back, she slapped my cock, grabbed it, put something around it. I could hear her wrapping bondage tape around it to keep whatever it was still. So heavy I could probably come just by rocking my hips and making the momentum of its shifting weight stroke me.

Then all was still. I waited, feeling goosebumps rise over my chest, feeling them race up and along my arms, and down to my ankles. So very aware of my own self. A soft sound caught my ears so I strained to listen. Wet, rhythmic squelching. Oh God, she was fucking herself with something! Here I was, strapped up with no chance of getting free, and she was servicing her own cunt.

I heard a mechanical whirr and then a sound that chilled me to the core. “Oh baby, yes,” the voice from the TV moaned. “Fuck my ass with that big cock! Rub my fucking pussy, you know I love it.”

I bucked on the bench. Strained to free my wrists, tried to kick my heels. I didn’t want to listen to this at all. Mistress laughed and yanked the blindfold away from my eyes. Hand in my hair, she turned my head until I was staring at the TV screen.

It was her. She was there in front of her fireplace, legs spread wide. The guy beneath her rammed his cock into her in a blurring speed while the one standing over them used his fingers in and on her dripping cunt. He struggled to keep his balance while blindfolded, the poor guy.

I didn’t want this. She was their Mistress as much as she was mine, but I hated watching the videos she made after one of us was excluded from play for bad behaviour. It had been bad enough to watch this while I’d been in the room, chained to a chair, but to see it now while she had all this stuff attached to me…

A tell-tale prickle in my ass confirmed my fears. It was an e-stim plug she’d slipped in there. It crackled and popped in a slow rolling wave, making me groan while I swallowed my protest and stared at the cock spreading her ass cheeks on the screen. Then a deep buzz started to tickle my balls, followed quickly by a devastatingly intense pulse that the device she’d taped to me forced into my cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” I was supposed to remain silent, but I couldn’t keep it in. I was going to explode and I prayed to God that I spunked enough to cover that fucking TV screen.

Mistress leant against the metal poles at the top of the bench. She wasn’t watching me or the video, she was eyeing the metal contraption that dangled from her hand.

“Just so you know, if you dare come your cock will be in this cage before it’s gone soft, and it won’t come out for six weeks. And yes, you will be present at every single group night, too.”

Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! I could feel my balls tightening, my cock starting to spasm like a wild thing. But I fought it, closing my eyes and humming to block out all sight and sound of my favourite person on earth being fucked like a rag doll. The feeling was still close, but I’d conquered it.

That wasn’t what Mistress wanted at all. As soon as the tingle in my ass turned into a sharp spike, the buzz at my balls into a painful rumble and the pulsing at my cock into an earthquake that thudded against me until I sobbed, I knew what this was. My real punishment for watching porn in her house without her (again) was to be chastity. This, that was happening to me now? This was for no other reason than her amusement.

My brothers fucked her until only the whites of her eyes showed. She whipped, fucked and sucked them until they spurted their cum all over each other. I’ll never forget the way she rewarded them for…well, for not being like me.

And finally, I cried real tears as they took her together, one cock in her cunt and the other in her ass, watching myself watching them from my chain prison not eight feet away from them. Just as past me started to bawl his eyes out and come all over his own face, I started to come all over the contraption that seemed hell bent on hammering an orgasm from me. My ass tightened around the plug, intensifying the electrical pulses, my balls tightened but were unable to rise as high as they should have, making me feel like I was in the middle of a ruined orgasm.

All at once, the torture stopped. The screen went dead, the devices she’d booby trapped me with became still. I wept as she yanked the plug out of my ass, freed my cock and balls and then, true to her word, clamped my still shrivelling dick in steel.

“Six weeks, Teddy Bear,” she said. “And you don’t get to make me come until it comes off. What is this?”

I opened my mouth to reply but couldn’t.

She grabbed my face, squeezing until my lips puckered. “I said what is this?”

Still sobbing, I forced the answer through pursed lips. “The price of defiance.”


Week 147

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