He rolled with the slap, glaring a moment but obeying reluctantly. He was as yet unaware of what he had done to deserve this but he would find out soon enough. He stood, facing the wall, his nose a few inches from it.
She paced about irritably. He hadn't done anything wrong, not exactly anyway. But she was feeling bitchy and ever since they had become a couple she had found herself more and more becoming short with him over stupid things. She wasn't sure why but she just did.
He idly rubbed his throbbing ear and adjusted his shirt, pulling it out of his shorts to keep cool, revealing for a split second the ever argued over tattoo.
Her eyes narrowed when she saw the tattoo and her irritation rose but she fought it down quickly. She waited twenty minutes before she finally let him out of the corner.
He stayed where he was, feeling more than a little pissed at the punishment, did she think he was a child? "How about I stay here for a while longer, maybe you can think up some more mystery reasons for it that I'll never find out like everything else these days."
She snarled and with a quick flick sent the whip whistling toward his leg. It wrapped around his leg and with one strong tug, she sent him crashing to the floor. She was on him in an instant and placed her spiked heel against his back and pressed slightly. "What did you say, slave?"
His forehead cracked off the hardwood floors with a thud, stars sparkling in front of his vision as he felt the sharp pain of her heel in his spine. He winced and groaned in pain, arching his back expertly to try and get away from the pain. "I said you never tell me reasons for such degrading punishments anymore...mistress." Even now with spots in his vision, a throbbing head ache and a spiked heel in his back, he could feel the tell tale signs of arousal building.
She leaned down toward him and jerked his head back, making sure her grip on his hair was bruising. "And who said I have to explain anything to you, slut?"
His face became a mask of pain as he tried to arch enough to relieve the pressure in his scalp. "No one mistress...you used to though."
"Yes and look what a nice great big mess that got us in," she spat out.
His breathing was getting harder as felt the pain maintain itself, he couldn't lay like this for long with it doing some real damage. "Please mistress, I'm not this flexible..."
She let go of his hair but kept her heel pressed against his back. "But you should be flexible. You've become lazy. You're losing your shape. Maybe I should get rid of you."
He fell forward with an oof, the air expelled from his lungs rapidly as he tried to clear the pain from his mind. "No, please. I've been lacking and I'm sorry Mistress. I should've been able to find some way to make 28 hours in a day to do some exercise while caring for you when you were injured..." He knew he was being a little heavy on the guilt, but it had gotten him so far as of late.
"So you're blaming me?" she asked right before she hit his ass with the whip.
He hissed and shifted as the pain lanced through his flesh, he hadn't felt it this much for many weeks now. His tolerance levels had dropped significantly. He stared at the floor and quietly spoke. "No mistress, I am blaming myself. I shouldn't have molly cuddled you. I should have left you to your pain while I thought of only my own well being."
"You never did learn when to shut your mouth." She hit him four more times with the whip, each blow landing around the first one on his ass.
Each blow was met with an uncharacteristic yelp of pain and a squirm. His tolerance training seeming like it had never happened.
"You're weak, soft, and pitiful. What kind of slave are you? You're useless. So what are you going to do about it? Hmm?"
He closed his eyes for what seemed like eternity before whispering softly, a hint of fear in his voice. "Retrain me, Mistress." He hated to have to say those words, some of the lessons she had taught him had left him aching for days sometimes even weeks.
Satisified with his response she removed her foot from his back. "Your training starts tomorrow. You have my permission to do whatever the fuck excites that little brain of yours but tomorrow your ass is mine."
With a soft groan he put his nose to the floor and muttered something under his breath. Slowly he pushed himself onto his knees and turned to face her. With overly dramactic grace, he leant down and gently placed a kiss on the toes of each of her boots as a sign of his willing submission.
She didn't move a muscle as she watched his show of obedience. "You may go."
He slowly rose and turned silently, exiting the room as if he was a ghost. At least one part of his training hadn't been forgotten.
The dawn light crept across the floor like a burning tide of destiny, illuminating Jason's discarded clothes. He was asleep in the spare room, his mistress having not permitted him one last night with her before his nightmare would begin once more. He had dug a hole too deep this time and he was now doomed and destined to face the training he endured at his beginning.
He prayed that this night would never end, however, all too soon the light was caressing his face and he was dragged from the comfort of his dreams.
She stood in the training room and double checked her things. She would be in control. She was mistress here, damnit!
Softly he sighed and pulled the covers up over his head and wished the dawn to go away. Maybe if he stayed perfectly still, Kisha wouldn't know he was there.
Satisfied that everything was ready she headed to the spare room and unlocked the door. "On your feet, slave."
The covers didn't move, his form seeming to still be asleep.
She smirked and then jerked the covers off him. "Strip now. I want to see your nude flesh."
He softly groaned to himself and shivered a moment, knowing that he had no choice. Gradually he stood and slide off his t-shirt and boxer shorts. He stood shivering a moment, the air cold in comparison to his warm bed.
She critically eyed him before walking up and grabbing his chin in a bruising grip. "If you try faking again you will regret it immensely. Do we understand each other, boy toy?"
He decided to try the innocence cards, maybe it would work this time. "Faking what Mistress?"
He did his best to look innocent but the morning wood only lead to ruining the effect.
Kisha shook her head as she let go of his chin. Then she viciously backhanded him.
He was rocked backwards on to the bed from the blow and glared at her. Fortunately for him, he had not cried out as she struck his face.
She did it again. "Your eyes are not to be on my face unless you are told to do so. On your feet, slut."
His lips had begun to bleed with the last strike. Softly he whispered, "Sorry Mistress."
"time to train. go to the training room." she spun on her heel and stalked from the room to the kitchen. training always worked up her appetite.
He nodded in affirmative and moved quietly, almost soundlessly across the hallway to the training room where he slowly took in the sight before him.
She went to the kitchen and fixed her a salad, grabbed a glass of sherry and headed to the training room.
He stood, waiting by the door, hand behind his back, looking out the wide bay windows. Patiently he waited for his mistress to return, maybe she had gotten distracted by something shiny down there...
She opened the door. Ignoring him she walked over to the table and set her food and drink. "Touch yourself. Slowly," she ordered.
He raised an eyebrow at this comment, hesitating a moment before complying with her order, slowly working his fast up and down his solid shaft.
She watched and then picked up a riding crop and circled him. Suddenly she snaked out and the crop connected with his wrist with a resounding smack. "I've seen you do better than that, ho. Do it right!"
He hissed and jerked his hand away a moment when she smacked his wrist. He resisted the urge to glare directly at her. Once more he grasped his shaft and began to tease his shaft once more, putting effort in to it this time.
