Punishment: A Suspended Sentence

My pulse quickened and a derisive smile played upon my scarlet lips as I heard my slave enter my dungeon and begin to disrobe. While I had many slaves, this one in particular had been contemptuous of late: disobeying his prescribed regimen of daily activities, failing to give his Mistress proper and timely updates. He had achieved orgasm without permission, and most egregious, he had recently refused one of my commands in public. He had even allowed the word “bitch” to slip from his lips during his little public tantrum. These were offenses that I could not, and would not, suffer. So over the past few days, while withholding contact from the boy, I had concocted a special set of repercussions that I felt confident would rectify his willful behavior. I had even worn one of my favorite outfits to mark the occasion: knee-high, black leather boots with stiletto heels sharp as my mood; a severely tailored pencil skirt with scandalous slits up the sides; and a black halter top, cut high to the throat while entirely baring my back. Now all my planning was about to come to fruition, but I waited patiently, making the slave ache for my presence, before vacating my chair and slipping silently from my office and into the dungeon proper.

 

My subject had removed all his clothes save for a thin leather collar that encircled his neck. He shivered as he saw me enter, and I immediately noticed his cock begin to grow. I laughed as I flicked on the light over my steel table, my eyes twinkling as they roamed over the ominous assortment of tools I had laid out for this session’s activities. My gaze stopped abruptly at a parachute collar with attendant weights. I picked up the device and moved wordlessly to my slave, fastening the collar tightly around his scrotum. I proceeded to hang three 5 kg weights from the parachute, heavily weighing down his testicles. The slave grunted in pain as the weights started to take their toll. . . . If he thought this mere prologue was painful, the remainder of the program was bound to be shocking.

 

I brought the insolent slave to his knees with a sharp kick to his genitals—he crouched there panting, on his hands and knees, as I reached overhead and pulled down two chains that hung from the ceiling, attached to a winch. At the end of each chain dangled a handcuff, which I hastily clamped upon his wrists as he attempted to recover. Reaching above my head one last time, I pressed a button, causing the winch to retract the chains and suspend the slave just high enough that he was forced to stand upon the tips of his toes. He uttered only a single word amidst his grunts and panting: “Why?”

 

Suppressing a wicked grin and keeping my eyes as deadly serious as possible, I replied: “Because you failed to obey me in accordance with the dictates of our agreement, and because you have offended me with your insolence of late. That is why you have visited these torments upon yourself.”

 

With a rough slap of his cock and a quick tug of the parachute, I went back to my table of delicious toys, selecting my favorite whip from the collection. I brought this whip out only for special occasions, as it was made from exquisite leather and had a devilish small metal tip to increase the pain. I wasted little time applying the sting of my whip to his body. I moved about the room, taking advantage of every angle to allow the whip to kiss each and every inch of his exposed flesh; I spared only his head. He quivered and cried out as the implement licked his body, leaving small scratches and tiny rivulets of blood where the tip found its mark. Only after I felt enough lashes had been inflicted did I lovingly curl the whip back up and place it upon the table, giving the slave a brief respite from his agony.

 

Returning to his side, I pulled another cruel device from the floor and attached it to his ankles. His legs were now bound by a spreader bar, forcing them to remain apart, to ease my every access to his body, which was chained to the floor. I tightened these chains as well, causing complete suspension and preventing him from making any sort of movement that I did not permit. His eyes widened as he realized he was fully and utterly at my mercy. Stealing away briefly to my table, I returned with a curious pair of instruments: a softly glowing candle that had been burning for some time and a feather. I removed the parachute, thereby evoking a sigh of relief from the slave. That relief would be short-lived, however. I began slowly and deliberately tickling and caressing his shaft with the feather, causing him to gasp and writhe within his bonds. Once he became fully erect, I paused to attach a wired patch to each testicle and then confirmed that the trailing wires were securely connected to the foot switch.

 

“You will learn to control your filthy desires until your Mistress gives you leave to release them,” I scolded as I resumed the feather play upon his cock, teasing him occasionally with the soft skin of my hand. The slave bit his lip and chewed upon the inside of his cheeks as the blissful ordeal continued, trying desperately to hold off his impending orgasm. Sensing what was about to occur, I swiftly hit the switch at my feet while simultaneously allowing hot wax to fall from the candle onto the head of his cock. The slave struggled harder and let out a muffled cry as electricity coursed through his balls and hot wax stung his member. After a few moments, I released the switch and stemmed the flow of wax, before once again stroking him with the feather. I kept at this for over an hour, teasing him up to the point of no return, then swiftly punishing him and forcing his orgasm to recede.

 

When I was satisfied that he had learned his lesson, I removed the probes from his scrotum, replacing them with my hand, which twisted and gripped his balls tightly. “You know not to come without my permission, and you shall not repeat that sin. Today you will go wanting.” I squeezed his scrotum with greater vigor until I received a grunt of agreement. Only then did I release him from my grip.

 

As I hit another button on the controls above my head, the chains suddenly slackened, dropping my servant to his knees. I freed him from all his restraints and provided him with antiseptic to cleanse the wounds my lashing had imposed upon his tender skin. When he finished tending to his lacerations, he rose, standing with his head down, expecting me to give him leave to exit the dungeon and continue with his daily life. What he received instead, however, was the parachute collar, which I once again clasped round his scrotum. The weight of the device on his already sensitive testes caused him to sink to his knees before me. I attached a leather cord to his dog collar and led him to the bathroom, where I secured his leash to a metal ring near the toilet.

 

Raising my skirt and sitting upon the porcelain seat as though it were a throne, I lectured my slave: “You have offended your Mistress with that foul mouth of yours. Now you will make amends for the damage your mouth has wrought." Without another word, I motioned for him to come forward and service me. I moaned with pleasure as his tongue laved my tight pussy, worshiping my lips and clit. I clutched at his hair and gyrated against his mouth, pulling him lower so that he might clean my anus as well. Only after I was satisfied with his ministrations did I allow myself to come.

 

He curled up submissively at my feet, once again assuming his work was done. Frustrated by his repeated assumptions, I rose and pressed the heel of my boot into his groin. I gripped his leash, pulling him up to his knees and pressing his face to the toilet seat. “Now take that filthy mouth and clean my toilet, slave.” I left him there, tethered to the bathroom wall, lapping at my commode, until he had finished his task, before allowing him the sterilizing burn of cognac in his gentled mouth and sending him on his way.

 

My punishment proved effective; never again did he dare sin so heinously.
 
 




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