Filed under: Deviant Dreams
i sat across from you with my legs crossed. i had just gotten off work. you
sat there with your pants pulled down and shirt off, hand was slowly
stroking up and down on your hard on. i glared into your eyes with a stone
look waiting for you to look away, it only took seconds before you glanced
towards the ground.
“why do you look away from me?” i ask sternly.
there is silence before you voice squeaks as you clear your throat on the
first word, “i-i, don’t know, grace.”
“are you ashamed or guilty that you are such a goddamn slut?”
more silence. your mind must be racing and i grin out the corner of my mouth
as you slowly look upward towards my eyes again. “sometimes, i feel you see
right through me, like you can read my thoughts.”
“well, it is easy to know what a pet wants, simple minds with simple needs.
but we both know that don’t we?”
“oh V, you know me better then that. if it weren’t for that fucked up mind
of yours, you wouldn’t be here now.” you nod quietly with a small grin. “i
want you to grab what is in the top drawer of my desk.”
your eyes get big as you turn the chair to face the desk. you slide open the
top drawer slowly. there sitting with nothing else is a shiny exacto knife.
your cock twitches as you slip it into your hand, close the drawer and turn
back towards me.
“it’s brand new,” i say.
you shake your head up and down in agreement as your cock throbs.
“take off the lid.”
you pull the plastic lid from the tip and stare at the fresh shiny point.
your cock jerks and you shift slightly.
“do you know what i want you to do?”
“you want me to cut myself for you.”
“here.” you take the blade to the base of your cock and start to press the
edge into your flesh making a solid yet delicate cut. “hsssssss.” you
breathe in as your flesh parts for the blade and pull it out as you take in
a deep breath. the cut yields a pink line that grows to a dark red as your
“mmmmmm, look at you bleed for me.” my legs come undone as i readjust in my
seat. my hand pushes between my legs to rub my clit through the jeans.
“goddamn.” you whisper as you already forgotten about the pain as you stare
hypnotically at my finger rubbing.
i push out of my seat walk in front of you and slap! “did i fucking tell you
to stare at my cunt?”
snapping to a harsh reality with a throbbing sting to to the left hand side
of your face you answer quickly with, “no”.
“uh huh, that’s what i thought slut.” i spit at you. i walk back to my chair
and sit back down, legs crossed again. “now, i want you to lick that blade
“yes, grace.” you whimper as you bring the blade flat against your tongue
and slide it off. the blood mixes with your saliva as you close your mouth.
“lick the blood from your cut.”
“yes, grace.” you look down at the pooling blood. your finger swipes slowly
along the cut. you bring your finger up to your mouth, push it in and suck
your finger clean, in and out like a cock.
“no matter what i do to you or you do for me, you just get off on it. the only true way i can remotely punish you is completely ignore you. you get off on the pain, the torment, even when i ignore you in plain sight. but, to just cut you off and not hear a peep from me, well that is when you hurt huh? can’t see, touch, hear, smell or taste me.”
“yes grace.” you pull your finger out of your mouth looking down as your face starts to flush. yet, not catching up with the red hand print on the left hand side of your face.
“you’re a piece of work V. now go and clean and shave. i want to carve my initials into your flesh and i want a clean slate.”
“goddamn grace.” the exacto knife falls from you hand to the ground as your face is in shock.
“what?” i snap.
“uh, i-i meant…yes grace.” as you bend forward to pick up the exacto knife and push the lid back on.
“well?” i glare.
“i’m sorry grace, going now.” you scramble from your seat towards the bathroom.
a small smile forms on my face. i know oh i know how the thought of me marking you is such a dark cloud over your head, yet, i know how much of a turn on it is. the conflict that must be playing in your mind as you wash off the dried blood from the cut you inflicted upon yourself and then pressing a razor to your flesh to shave yourself clean for me. so, i sit there in my chair waiting wondering at one point you attempt to object to this permanent marking, or will you?
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