You look beautiful; stripped naked and shackled against the wall of the dungeon. I watch you struggle pathetically, trying to loosen your bonds but succeeding only in rattling your chains and showing off your body. You can’t see anything, so the sensation of my fingertips brushing against your cheek catches you off guard and sends a jolt of fear down your spine. “Its okay pretty girl.” I offer words of comfort as my fingers keep travelling down the gentle slope of your neck and across your clavicle. You whimper as they trace along the arc of your breasts, brushing against your nipple and sending a rill of pleasure flowing through your body as I tell you that “If you’re good and obedient, I won’t have to hurt you too much.” My fingers keep going; down your stomach and around your hip. They squeeze the flesh of your ass like a ripe fruit. “But if you can’t be good, I have ways to make you comply.” I warn before asking “Do you understand?” as my fingers drift lower, moving around the back of your thigh to tease at your labia.

The fear and the knowledge of the pain that I can inflict on your helpless body make your heart beat fast and jagged. But the pleasure of my gentle caress at the edge of your pussy flows hot and thick through your body. You can’t even think to answer my promises or my warning. Your thoughts are melting like chocolate in the microwave, fear and desperate need filling your brain. You just barely manage to find your words and whisper “Yes, sir.”

I pull my hand away, and you give a petulant whine as the ephemeral pleasure fades from your body. You hear a soft, sucking pop somewhere in the darkness then the small clattering racket of something plastic falling to the dungeon floor. You can feel yourself trembling, anticipating the terrible and unknown pain you will endure for my enjoyment. Its almost a relief when the cold, waxy hardness of the lipstick moves over your cheek.

I write with slow, caring strokes so that you can feel the down-up-down-up of the letter W and the down-across-down of and H. It takes no more than a soft tap on your chin to open your mouth. You can’t see the lipstick, but your mind’s eye pictures a gaudy ring of vivid crimson around your mouth forming the letter O. Before I finish the word you feel my touch on your breasts once again. This time its more possessive, groping and squeezing as I mark you with the down-loop-diagonal of an R and the down-across-across-across of the E.

“What a pretty whore you are.” I observe, still playing with your breasts. “But you’re so much more than that.” You feel my fingers tracing upwards; from your breasts to your shoulders to your throat, where they squeeze. My grip is just tight enough to make you gasp with surprise and fight for breath as I label you a slave just above your right breast. Over the left one I tell the world you are a fuck toy. Then my hands drift lower. The next letter comes between your belly button and the top of your vulva. You recognize the circle of an O and the jaunty lines of a W, but the rest of the letters come as a quick series of loops and lines. With your mind fogged by lust and terror it takes you a minute to realize they spell out Owned by [saintxwing]. “There” I say, stepping back to admire my handiwork. “Now we know what you are, and who you belong to.” All you can do is stand there, naked and bound, displaying to the world that you are my slave and my fuck toy; my good little whore.

Something else breaks the silence of the dungeon. It sounds like distant traffic, or a strong wind in the trees. You understand only when the tresses of the flogger rake across the tender skin of your belly. The burning is sudden and bright. It makes you cry out and flinch, rattling your chains. The second impact falls across your breasts. Its followed quickly by a thirdfourthfifth. The stinging grows steadily, matched by the needy throb from between your thighs. All you can do is struggle, moaning pathetically as you try to twist away from the pain of my lash. You can tell that I am smiling, and that the smile is sadistic, from the sound of my voice when I praise you. “That’s right pretty girl. Fucking squirm for me. Squirm like a good whore. Show me how sexy you are when you’re in pain. Show me why I love to punish those curves.”

You are caught in a trap. Each time you shy away from the flogger or recoil in pain, you invite more. And as the pain gets more intense, the spectacle of your suffering gets better. You are a beautiful, sensuous dancer moving to the rhythm set by my lash, the melody of your own agonized whimpering. But this music is different. The more intense it becomes the less you can stand. With every blow of the flogger, it melts you into a mess of helpless pain and primitive, atavistic desire.

You know that you are at your limit. Your skin burns and your heart throws itself against your ribs; every breath is long and ragged; threatening to become a sob. You hear the leather snap and await the strike that will send you over the edge, but it never falls. Instead, you feel my fingers, once again sliding up the inside of your thigh, and my lips softly pressing against the O in whore. The kiss is long and slow, passion and possession mixed together.

You gasp suddenly. Your whole body quivers with unexpected bliss as my fingers slide smoothly into your needy pussy. “Look how wet that flogging made you.” I whisper into your ear. “You are such an eager little fuck toy.” My fingers curl back and forth, calling pleasure out from deep inside you. It spills out through your body to reach the very tips of your toes as I ask “Do you want to be fucked, little toy?”

Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t speak. Its just barely possible to think. And it feels like an eternity before you can find the words “Fuck. Yes. Please. Yes, sir.”

You moan in needy frustration as my fingers pull away. Then you feel the clamps on your nipples. Their bite is gentle; a little pressure on one of your most sensitive parts. Its steady but not quite painful as I take your still bound hands down from above your head. You wait, ready to be led to whatever fate I have determined.

With out a breath of warning the gentle pressure of the clamps changes into a bright pain. It flashes out from your breasts, and glows in every synapse in your body. The agony gets more intense as the tension on the chain between your breasts get tighter. Without even thinking you step forward, following me into the darkness. I use the clamps and the pain they inflict to guide you towards the bed. You know we have arrived only when I bend you down onto soft sheets and spread your legs.

I don’t hold back. My cock fills your desperate and soaking pussy. All you can do is moan and twitch as I fuck you like the compliant whore that you are. The pleasure comes in waves, one after the other, they wash away what’s left of your beleaguered mind. You can feel yourself losing control,