“You know, you really shouldn’t smoke.”
I said it without thinking, through the sleeve covering my mouth and nose. You put the cigarette out, and I would have thought no more of it, but I was stopped on my way to open the window by one of your hands manacled around my wrist.
“Do you think I need you to tell me that?”
I could only look down at my hand, where the wrist was obscured entirely.
“Tell you what…”
Your grip on my wrist was far too tight; it painfully compressed the bone until I looked up, at your blank and unreadable face. “Is it incapable of giving me sensible answers, when I ask it a question?”
“*No-“*
I would have elaborated, tried to explain myself; I was cut off, struck into speechlessness by a vicious slap against my cheek. I lost all comprehension, rendered insensible by the sudden shock and pain. I made no effort to stop myself sinking to the floor, one hand instinctively pressed into the hot and stinging pain in my face.
You were dreadfully composed, completely unaffected. “Then why didn’t it manage the first time?”
“I *don’t know,* being stupid-“
“I’ll let it try again, if it’s not too stupid even for that.”
I took a shallow breath, trying to speak carefully so as not to make another thoughtless mistake. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”
There was the briefest of moments where I thought that, maybe, I had managed to mollify you. But one of your hands twisted in my hair, pulling it painfully and wrenching my neck backwards. “So you’re forgetting your place, is what I gather from that.”
“*No-“*
*“*And contradicting me too, now?”
You pushed me down, hard, onto the floor. The floor was cold and hard, and my elbows had taken almost all of my weight when I tried to stay upright. I was starting to panic, as I felt you over me, trapping me without effort.
“You’re a slut who’s going to raped, on the floor, like a common whore.”
I couldn’t breathe, could feel myself becoming hysterical. “*I’m sorry-“*
*“*Good.” You said it without emotion, but you didn’t stop. You pushed my dress up as far as it would go, getting it just to the top of my thighs before the fabric bunched up, obstructing you. It would have been easy enough to turn me over to get to the zip at the back, there was nothing I could have done about that. But you saw a pair of fabric shears left on the table and, starting at the hem, began to cut directly through the dress.
“Do I need its opinion?”
That dress was one of my favourites, and you knew it. You had never particularly liked it, so I suppose you took great pleasure in finally destroying it.
The cold metal of the scissors scraped across my skin as the dress fell open, and I answered, “No.”
“Does it think I even *care?”*
The evidence was there, that you did not; once again I answered, “no.”
The dress was ruined, in tatters beneath me, and I was cold and shivering on the floor, completely naked. You ripped the plug out of my ass, not trying to be gentle at all; it was wrenched out of me in one brutal gesture. My whole body jerked in pain as I bit my lip to stifle a scream.
There was the beginning of tears in the corner of my eyes already, hot and stinging tears that collected into a watery film, blurring my vision without quite spilling over.
I was full of adrenaline and nearly out of my mind; you had to hold both my hands in one of yours to keep me still as you forced your cock into my ass and immediately began to rape me, brutally. I didn’t know what sort of black mood I had walked in on and foolishly exacerbated, but I was taking the punishment for all of it, for my faults and the faults of others.
You were so violent then, that it was excruciating. The way you fucked me was absolute agony, and the tears fell then; I couldn’t prevent it. I had no pride to save, was helpless to do anything *but* cry.
I was so trapped that you didn’t need to hold my hands; I was so trapped that it was hardly *necessary* at all for you to wrap your hand around my throat and squeeze, but you did it anyway. I was being choked into perfect immobility, just barely able to breathe- but unable to move. There was no way for me to try and soften the impact of the way you were raping me, or do anything at all.
I would have said you were furious if I had not seen that little hint of mockery there- that slight sarcasm that creeps in when punishing insubordination that was no real threat, little more than an amusing nuisance and an opportunity to make a point.
“Does it enjoy being punished?” You relaxed your grip around my throat just enough for me to answer, “No!”
“It’s a filthy little liar, isn’t it?” I think I cried all the more, outraged at myself for being caught in such a pathetic lie when you said; “I can see how wet you are from getting raped, and you’re trying to lie to me.”
I couldn’t lie then, not when I was so appallingly aware that my cunt was wet, and that I could orgasm at any moment, if I were allowed to- if I dared to ask while I was being punished. You did, though- you do whatever you want, after all. You do what you want, and you do whatever you like to your slave.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/m7msdo/a_slaves_evening