The Final Touches

She had been sent here for the final touches, she was now old enough to be taught what would be expected of her.

You may scream, you may cry, but I will still take you

You may writhe, you may fight, but I will still bind you

You may turn, you may twist, but I will still chain you

You may deny, you may despair, but I will still have you

You are mine.

You may not deny what you know is true.

Stranger

He sat at a table far from the hustling throng of people, near the water’s edge, looking out across the docks. His gaze seemed fixed, perhaps on a distant scene playing out far across the bay.

As he reached for the cup of coffee in front of him she noticed how elegantly his arm seemed to move. No wasted effort, almost deliberate purpose, all to sip on coffee. He seemed almost poetic.

He was striking, well dressed, slightly unshaven, a soft smile. He stood out from all the other people around him.

Perhaps this was just her imagination. Perhaps only she noticed him.

Perhaps.

As his head turned, his eyes fixated on her. She hadn’t expected him to break his distant gaze, and now he was looking directly at her.

Silly. Imagination running wild. He was looking toward the market, not at her. She wasn’t extraordinary in any way. Not noticeable. Just a normal faceless girl. She was well hidden.

As she walked on, she couldn’t help but glance at him again, and as she did, she saw his eyes following her slowly. He wasn’t hiding anything, he was blatant about it.

She felt unsettled, she tried to hide any emotion, to once again meld into the crowd. But inside she smiled.

When she returned the following week, he wasn’t there. For some reason she had expected he would be at the same table, drinking a new cup of coffee, and waiting for her.

Perhaps next week.

Perhaps.

I think I may use too many smileys in emails on here ... subs just don't think I'm scary enough. Maybe it will help if I roar loudly and beat my chest?

Peace

“My name is … “, but he cut her off in mid sentence.

“It really doesn’t matter to me. You’ll be who I want you to be. You’ll respond to whatever I choose to call you. Slut, bitch or whore, you’ll respond to my voice”. His words seemed to penetrate deep inside her, they made her body respond instantly, she became focused and attentive.

“Yes, I understand Sir”, the words seemed both completely alien and totally natural to her. They fell from her lips instinctively, against everything she purported to be, and yet affirming everything she knew herself to be.
Her eyes were fixated, he watched them change, they softened and melted in front of him. He watched her facade fall away.

She felt a need to fight, a need to resist, a need to maintain her shell. She looked away.

“Safety. Think of your safety. Don’t let him in”, her mind raced, “You don’t know anything about him. He can hurt you. You’re stronger than this.”
His hand touched flat against her cheek, his fingers slowly traced down to her lips, and with the gentlest of pressure he turned her face back towards him. Her eyes met his, and the maelstrom of thoughts...

Stopped.

Everything stopped.

The whole world stopped.

For an eternity encapsulated in a second.

This was what she needed. What she had wanted for so long.
Calm.

Peace.

She Waits

At the bar sits a tall woman, attractive, dressed in a smart and sexual way.

She gets glances, mostly from men, but even a few women give her a look that says more than it should. She has turned down offers of drinks from two people already.

She is waiting. Waiting for the man she met on the Internet, the man who sent her a message telling her how hot she looked, describing all the things he wanted to do to her.

He would meet her at a bar, she would be his little slut for the night, he would use her for his pleasure, she would accept his instructions willingly.

Her heart was racing, it was almost the hour he was to arrive. She could feel the tension rising inside her, she could feel herself getting aroused at the thought of that first look from him, knowing that she had prepared herself well for him, hoping he would be pleased.

He told her he would tie her to the bed and use her to please his cock. She would be gagged, maybe blindfolded. She might cry, but he would just carry on and ignore her pathetic bleating. She would be forced to cum for him, to make it more pleasurable for him, this was not for her.

One minute now till he was to arrive, he had told her he would appear exactly on the hour. She should be ready to compose herself as a good slut, and prepared to follow everything he told her to do.

She was wet now, nipples erect, pussy aching for him, she moved uncomfortably on the chair. Instantly, the bar was empty. It was just her, nothing else mattered. She focused on the door, glancing at the clock, counting the seconds in her head.

The hour ticked over. She sighed slightly, he didn't come as promised. The bar was full of people again. Her heart slowed. She didn't know how to feel.

Perhaps she should have answered his email after all.

The Alley Part Three

She felt him cum inside her, warm sticky and oozing.

She felt disgusted, she felt defiled, she felt dirty, she felt turned on like she had never been before.

She came hard as he did, but she hid it from him with every effort she could make. Her wet pussy told no lies though, as it gripped him hard and squeezed his cum deep inside her.

He held for a few seconds, a few seconds that seemed like forever to her. Mounted above her, her legs wide apart, he looked down at her.

"You loved that you filthy little bitch, you loved every second of it didn't you?"

She didn't reply, she didn't dare.

He slapped her. HARD

"You loved it didn't you bitch?", his words spat into her face.

She looked him defiantly straight in the eyes, and her pussy held him tighter begging him for more. She wanted to push him away, she wanted to say "no", she wanted to shout "NO". But her head nodded in agreement.

"Answer me you little cunt", and another slap across her face made tears roll from her eyes.

"Yes", she whimpered

"Yes, WHAT you little slut?", his voice was firm, monotone, unwavering.

"Yes Sir, thank you", she said proudly and honestly.

He pushed his cock harder into her at the moment she thanked him.

"I knew you would thank me from the moment I spotted you on the train, did you see me looking at you slut?"

She nodded.

"Why didn't you run from me then? You knew I wanted to take you didn't you?"

She nodded.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU RUN SLUT?", he slapped her and her face burned. She felt his cum starting to run down out of her pussy and between the cheeks of her ass.

"I am a slut, I need to be taken Sir", her words matched her thoughts perfectly, and she knew she shouldn't say this, it wasn't right.

He stood up, did up his trousers, and looked down on her. She had stayed exactly where she was, frozen in posture, and skin freezing in the night air.

"Get up you dirty little Cunt, I'm not finished with you, make yourself look respectable. You have a long night ahead of you"

She did as she was told.

The Alley - Part Two

Echoes of her screams reverberated up and down the alley, the cold stone upon her exposed skin where torn clothing hung from her body.

Her writhing and fighting were no match for his strength nor would she have wanted them to be. The pretense was required, it was all part of her game, of course she would never admit this to herself, to him, or to anyone else.

She could feel the bruises starting to form, she could feel the gravel cutting into her skin, the numbness of the cold night dulling her pain, the warmth of his body against hers shielding her from it.

It felt good.

She would never admit it felt good, she would never admit that she was enjoying every second of it, but this was what she had longed for illicitly for so long.

God, how much she had needed this.

The Alley

As she walks from the train, she is all too aware of what waits, and yet she continues up the dark steps. Her footsteps echo from the brick walls that line her path and will ultimately prevent her escape.

The breeze in the air is frosty, and her breath turns to ice before her eyes, as though her soul were being torn from her body by the night.

The shadow awaits, like she had hoped it would, like she knew it would. She carries on regardless.

It lurches, lunges, grabs for her. She instinctively recoils an tries to turn and run, her conscious mind telling her not to, to stay, to only

pretend to fight, to let it happen.

The internal conflict is enough to slow her, she is thrown to the ground, no chance of escape, legs are pushed apart, blouse torn from her chest.

She feels the penetration and accepts the inevitable, and enjoys every second of it beneath her screams

Will you give your body and your mind? Will you follow when you are lead? Will you open your legs on command?

Will you cum when instructed, and stop yourself from cumming if you don't have permission?

Will you take punishment when you have disobeyed? Will you thank me for your punishment even more than you thank me for your pleasure?

And will you enjoy every second of it?

The walls echo my voice. As loud as I try, I cannot make myself heard. My dungeon holds me tight, it holds me secure, it holds me silent.

I cannot see. It is dark. I cannot walk far, the chains hold me on a short leash. And yet I still scream, and hope for rescue or mercy.

I will not give in, I will not submit, I will escape.

My hands can feel cold stone slabs lining the walls. My feet feel cold stone tiles below them. My chains are secure, my attempts to pull them free failed.

I was told I would be used, abused, tortured and given no freedom.

I was told many things.

I will not give in.

I will not submit.

I will escape.

If only someone could hear my screams.

What makes you free 

This is deep inside you, something that forms the very basis of who you are.

It cannot be contained or closeted away, it will always come seeping through the very fabric of you.

At first it appears as darkness, scary, overwhelming, the dark shadow from a horror film gaining ground on you as you run.

Then it catches you. You cannot keep running, it envelops you, the shadow surrounding you, till you realise this is nothing to be feared but to be relished, this is everything you needed and wanted. Your fear was all grounded in morality and convention, but this is deeper, more primal, this is your nature, this is what makes you free, what drives you, what cuts to the core of who you are.

This is who you are, you are my slut, you are my toy, you are bound to give yourself to me for my pleasure.

And knowing that truly makes you free.