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A punishment she will never forget.

"

He is stepping closer. Tears are trickling down my face and I am starting to panic.

"I also highly suspect that no one else is going to help you, because they know what a whore you are, how much you want to be fucked, to be used. They know how often I make you cry out in pleasure. Because of all those times they needed to sleep with earplugs, they are not going to help you."

He has gently removed my hand resting on the door handle and brings it towards him. My vision is going blurry from the tears and I am starting to tremble. This must be a horrible dream of some sort.

"You are my girl and you belong to me. Come, it is time for me to claim you."

I can hear myself babbling "No no no no" and I am backing up, away from him. Directly into his bedroom.

He keeps up the stream of words, about all the things he wants to my body, how he can smell my arousal from where he is, how I want this, to be owned, to be fucked, how I'm a whore who spreads her legs whenever she can. All of his words punctuated by a slow, steady step into the bedroom while I am backing up, my head shaking in denial of his words. I am trying to convince him that I am a good girl, that I don't do those sorts of those things, but he doesn't listen.

My thighs back into his bed. My eyes widen as I realize I am trapped. I attempt to scramble up onto the bed, away, but he is too quick.

His hands are already at both my wrists, with a tight grip that means that there is no escaping him now. His legs straddle my chest as I futilely squirm against him, gripping into the sides of my body. One of my hand he takes and raises it above my head and to an angle. In one deft motion, he secures it into a cuff, tightening the leather strap. He reaches into his pocket and draws forth a lock, which he promptly places to secure the cuff in place. With the same efficiency of movement, he secures my other wrist.

I try to bite him, a move he easily avoids with a chuckle, tweaking me on the nipple for my impertinence.

He begins stroking, licking, nibbling on all of my favorite spots above the waist: my fingers, my neck, the undersides of my arms, my nipples. He knows me well enough to know that I am getting aroused, despite my best efforts not to.

Sure of his victory, he straddles me the other way and grabs a leg. In my momentary stupor, I don't realize that he has tied my legs so they are bent, with a long tail of rope extending from both of my ankles. He grabs both of these tails and climbs off me, which enough to wake me up from my muzziness. I realize with horror that he is firmly pulling on them, securing first one, then the other ends to the end of the bed. I am completely bound, my legs spread wide to expose my cunt, and I can't move in any direction.

He steps back, smiling at his handiwork. I'm eying him, uneasy.

"Wha...what are you going to do to me?"

"The ultimate sign of submission to a master is to allow him to do things to her body that she might not particularly like. She gives into the sovereignty that he holds over her and he often takes that opportunity to leave a lasting reminder of his ownership."

It is then that I see what he intends to do, seeing the implements on a table next to the bed. I try to thrash, but I can't move in any direction; all I can do is impotently move my hips back and forth.

Methodically, he placed a towel under me, wet my cunt with a washcloth, then proceeded to cover it in shaving cream. As he picked up the razor, holding it up high enough for me to see, I began to plead in earnest. Ignoring my words, or possibly simply getting more aroused at them, he held me still with a hand on my belly.

Even as I babbled my dissent at this new shame, I could feel myself slipping deeper into subspace.

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