Death Part 3
WARNING: the following is a Deviant Dreams post, read at your own risk. You can read part 1 here: Death (a snippet) and part 2 here: Death Part 2.
“Like what you see pet?” I ask with my eyes still closed.
“Yes, Grace,” he replied quietly.
“Should I just lay here and nap while you watch or should we do something?” I asked with my eyes still closed.
There was silence. He was thinking about what the correct answer should be versus the answer he wanted to say. He chose his words wisely.
“You should nap Grace if you are tired,” he replied.
I knew he was hesitant about his response. I knew that’s not what he really wanted to say. He wanted attention. He wanted to be rewarded for being such a good pet while she was away and left him very neglected.
“Come here.” I whispered. “I want to tell you something in your ear. And if you touch any part of my body on your way up you will wish you were back in the closet and forgotten.”
“Yes, Grace,” he said.
I felt the bed shift with his weight as he carefully crawled on all fours up to my face. He was there on my right hand side and I felt his head close to my face and I opened my eyes to see the side of his face in my view.
“You poor thing,” I whispered softly, seductively and sweetly into his ear. “I am just horrible for leaving you in there like that. I should have at least paid for a sitter to come by and yet I failed to do so. Can you forgive me?”
He shook his head up and down. I brushed the outer part of his ear with the tip of my tongue and his whole body shuddered. My right hand moved and held his face and I could feel the goose bumps residing.
“What can I do. To make this right with you?” I asked slowly.
“Uh..”, was all he could push out as my nails slowly dug into his cheek and then my hand moved to his throat. In one physical act I sat up while moving my hand to his throat and pushing him on his back against the bed. I was towering over his face on all fours and resting my weight on to the right hand around his throat. I looked straight into his eyes and looked deep. There was a sense of fear and yet there was also the look of arousal from him. We had played this scene many times and he trusted me even when I would push a little too far. We pushed the boundaries but there were still boundaries. We wanted to live to fuck another day.
His eyes started to well and water. The color of his face was deepening red and I continued to stare him straight in the eyes and determining my next move. I let my right hand up to let him catch his breath.
My head neared his right ear again and I whispered, “Miss me?”
“Y-yes, Grace,” he sputtered trying to get a regular breathing pattern again.
I glanced down at his cock and it was still hard, very hard. He was enjoying the attention he was getting. He was not in any shape to walk away just yet.
“Did you behave while I was away or did you slut around looking for handouts?” I hissed in his ear.
“No Grace!” he answered sharply with a trickle of fear.
“I know how you get, I know how you want, no need attention,” I spat out.
“I-I was good Grace, I swear,” he said with conviction.
“Hm.” I pondered out loud. “Does that mean you should be rewarded for your efforts pet?”
“Th-that is up you, Grace,” He answered quietly.
“Aren’t you just spewing out the right answers tonight,” I exclaimed.
My body shifted and I moved to straddle around his knees with my hands resting on his chest. My face hovered over his cock. I could see his pre-cum puddle at the tip and near spilling over the edge.
“Don’t you dare look at me. You keep your eyes on the ceiling.” I demanded talking right at his cock.
“Yes…Grace,” he said breathlessly. He was near an orgasm.
“Don’t you fucking come without my permission. Do you understand?” I said through gritted teeth.
“Y-yes…Grace,” he breathed out slowly to control his whole body.
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Grace stared at the white porcelain of the tub. Her face started to sink below the water line, bounce back and pressed her face against the cold surface. Her thoughts were calm and his words were playing in her mind displaying vivid and disturbing images. She had read BDSM erotica before but never with a woman in the dominant role. This was all new to her and the writer was a fixation in her mind.
Paul’s words were pieced effortlessly and the pictures he painted in Grace’s mind were priceless. Her hand snaked in the luke warm water between her legs. She felt shy to be touching herself and thinking about a complete stranger but this was not the first time. However, this was a first coming from a writer of this caliber. She positioned herself as the dominant female spitting harsh and degrading words towards Paul. There was a mix of guilt and heightened pleasure as her clit was hard and pulsing at her fingertips. Could she spit in a man’s face? Could she choke a man? Could she inflict what appeared to be cruel pain on a man? The questions alone caused her fingertips to press and rub harder. It was all embedded in her conscious now and the obvious arousal from the mere thoughts answered her questions. As she pondered more of Paul’s post about this nasty woman treating him like shit and yet he was could not get enough of her, Grace came hard splashing water, gripping the side of the tub and panting.
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Death Part 2
WARNING: the following is a Deviant Dreams post, read at your own risk. You can read part 1 here: Death (a snippet)
“You are a mess,” I gleamed.
“I’m sorry Grace,” he croaked from his throat. I could tell he had not spoken out loud the whole time I was away. I knew very well he was cursing me under his breath.
His denial was my ultimate arousal. My eyes narrowed slightly as I tried to read his mind through his pupils. Slowly they shifted to the slight twitch in his upper lips to his chin. Further down my gaze stopped at his growing erect penis and my head tilted slightly to the side with the slow formation of a grin.
“Happy to see me pet?” I asked watching his cock jump.
“Y-yes, Grace,” he pushed out clearing his throat.
“You need a bath,” I said. “Follow me.”
I casually lead the way to the bathroom with the tub as he crawled behind me on all fours. I knew he’s watching my heels and slowly savoring the way up as my skirt swayed from left to right. I knew he was wondering if I was wearing panties and we both knew that was not the case. Today was a special day. Today I came home.
I bent forward to turn on the faucet and I knew very well he was sneaking a peek up my skirt as he sat quietly by the doorway with a throbbing hard-on.
“Don’t fucking look up my skirt,” I hissed.
I didn’t even have to look to know he immediately shifted his head down and his face was blushing red. I knew him. I knew him better than he knew himself and that is what sat in the pit of his stomach.
“Get in,” I motioned as I stood straight and turned around.
He crawled slowly into the tub, he was doing this to impress me and prove his submission to me. I watched with my arms crossed with amusement and sat on the toilet.
“I suppose since you are my pet that I should be a good owner and actually wash you. Would that make you happy pet?” I asked as I knelt down at the edge of the tub grabbing the washcloth.
“Y-yes Grace,” he croaked with his cock pushing out of the water. He glanced up at me with an expression of utter happiness that I was tending to him.
I soaped up the washcloth and ran it across his skin. His face, down to his neck, back and arms. I took my time scrubbing away days of filth and knew very well he wanted that washcloth nestled around his cock. I ran the washcloth down his check and stomach. I watched his cock leap as it neared and he let out a barely audible gasp as I skipped his cock and pulled up his leg to wash.
“Stand so I can wash you legs,” I ordered.
He quickly stood up and I moved the washcloth up and down his thighs to his calves. Finally I moved up his inner thigh and then cupping his balls with the soap covered washcloth. He almost collapsed in the tub letting out a groan. A small grin drew on my face.
“Horny pet?” I whispered.
“Y-yes, Grace,” he slurred.
“Need to come pet?” I asked innocently.
“Ung. Y-yes, Grace,” he said quickly.
I squeezed his balls through the washcloth and caused him to double over from the pain and still his cock throbbed with even pre-cum at the tip.
“Wash your cock pet,” I demanded.
He looked confused and let down.
“Do I have to tell you again?” I hissed.
“N-no, Grace,” he stammered and took the washcloth from my hand and stroked it around his cock.
“Don’t you fucking play with yourself either,” I snarled.
“N-no, Grace,” he answered quickly washing thoroughly.
“Rinse off and when you are done dry off and meet me back in the room,” I said throwing a towel at him.
I stripped out of my clothes and fell on the bed. I was exhausted, my eyes were heavy and I closed them for a moment. I waited to hear him come crawling back in the room. Sure enough a few minutes later I could hear the jingle of his collar. A slight grin on my mouth formed. The sound stopped. I knew he was waiting at the foot of the bed and I knew very well he was staring at me. I also knew his cock was bursting and if I blew on it he would hump the air that enveloped his cock.
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WARNING: The following is a Deviant Dreams post, read at your own risk.
When I said, “mark me” you knew deep down what I meant.
I don’t follow labels or adhere to the ones given or taken. I am not a submissive drone that will let you do whatever YOU felt like. I am the muse of a sadist. I want to pull from your depths and push your own limits. I want you to step into something uncomfortable.
“Mark me,” I said as you bruised me in foreplay and I smirked inside.
“Mark me,” I said and you almost stopped.
“Mark me,” I hissed and you knew what I wanted.
The kiss of the blade to my flesh was a moment of clarity and yet the whole world was shut out. It made me focus and really feel your invasion of me. For that moment I was vulnerable and free. Watching my dark red blood flow down my fair skin as it explored my outer being.
I wanted to touch the life seeping and lick it. I wanted your hands smeared leaving finger prints on my used flesh. I wanted you to fuck me with my own blood.
The scar you left is a fond reminder of the beginning. It stands alone waiting for more.
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death (a snippet)
warning: the following is a Deviant Dreams post, read at your own risk.
i was walking to the front door. the key slid in the slot and i unlatched the lock that i fastened quite some time ago. i assumed he would have found some kind of nourishment that i had left in the house. i swung the door open and skimmed what i could see. the air was stale and yet everything still in it’s place.
i headed towards the back of the house where my bedroom waited. i scanned the hallways, the bathroom and the other rooms for any sign of disturbance or even life.
i entered the room and paused at the door way. i stood there quiet and still. i listened intently for a peep, a jingle, a slight movement. nothing. i started to wonder if he was even alive. did he let himself die in that dreary and dark closet in my absence?
my hand against the cracked door of the closet. i couldn’t make out any movement within. i didn’t smell death either. i let my hand rest on the smooth fake wood. i could make out a faint sucking in of breath. the corner of my mouth twitched into a slight grin.
i pushed the door open till the light fell upon his squinting face. he looked emaciated, somewhat dirty and very uncared for. yet, the grin upon my face grew even more. i stared into his eyes and read him. i could see his happiness, his dedication, his knowing who exactly he belonged to.
i watched him rub his eyes. the collar still affixed with the shiny “V” gleaming and dangling proudly. his hands fell to his side and he almost started to move forward and stopped. i watched the battle go on in his mind as to what to do. was it forgetfulness or rebellion? it was hard to make out. he fell back on his feet and starred up at me waiting.