She was insatiable, and he was getting sore, both from being penetrated and from being massaged to orgasm, but he was unable to complain. Neil had become accustomed to the penis gag filling his mouth as it had for the past two hours. Yes, he still tried to scream when he came, but the resulting muted groans and grunts seemed adequate and normal to him now. His head hung over the edge of the table, unable to be held up any longer, much like his penis.
Finally, Alena sagged on his back, manipulating with futility his spent organ. Tonight was over. The fun was gone if she couldn't "force" him to cum in such a state of humiliation. But she still felt the power. It was non-sexual at the moment, but this was a woman who was always on the edge of sexual, never merely quiet or business-like. There was a heat to her that smoldered at the least of times, blazed at the best of times.
She thrust the strap-on dildo into him a few more times, listening to him grunt, and then she raised herself off of his back and withdrew quickly, resulting in another grunt from her male sex object, as he felt the pain of emptiness. She was sweating and she padded to the front of the table on which he was strapped and absently pushed her wet hair behind her ears. The dildo of the strap-on was inches from Neil's nose as she unlocked his gag and let it fall from his mouth to the floor.
For him it was an awkward moment, as he exercised his jaw to bring it back to the ability to talk once again. Minutes passed. The smell of the dildo was overpowering.
"Are you done with me?" he asked, rather sheepishly, a last shot at the "you-took-me-without-my-consent" defense.
She stared at him and then reached forward and lifted his head by the hair, putting his mouth a mere inch away from the dildo. He tried to turn away but she held him fast.
"Do you realize what I could make you do right now?" she said, "Open your mouth."
"Please Alena. No, I can't do that; I just can't. Please, I'm tired...used up I guess. My arms...they're asleep."
While he complained she reached down and retrieved the gag. "I see," she said.
"Can you...mmff?" he managed to say as he was re-fitted with the gag. He had intended to ask her to untie him.
"I will release you once you have been taught that you do not have the ability to disobey me," she said sternly, "I want to see you again. I like you." She swatted him on the back with her flogger.
She retreated out of his sight behind him as she continued, "You are going to remember me...and come back to me for more. You are easy to read. And now I am going to put some printing on your ass that you will be able to read. Every time you sit down, you will think of me. You will hate me; you will want me; you will hate yourself; you will want me."
She started slowly and lightly, Neil unable to move a muscle to resist. Eventually she was swinging the flogger with every ounce of her strength, his gluteus becoming tenderized as if for cooking. Neil initially tried to scream with every hit, but he eventually sagged into a silent state of acceptance. The endorphins had kicked in and he found himself in sub-space, a condition he had read about at one time, but could not at that time understand. She continued unabated and the red welts on his ass rose up to meet the next assault until they rose up no more, split in two by the hit, a mash of blood and fat, and perhaps muscle. He broke at this point and wept, his tears dropping in torrents to where his gag had laid only moments before.
She stopped then, tired and satisfied, not because she had drawn blood, although that was part of it. She smiled at his condition. He was hard again. Beaten to a pulp, and he was hard again. Hard.
"Well," she teased, "you, girlie, are a born masochist, aren't you baby? Let's imprint this condition a bit then too, shall we?" And she took him in her hands and brought him to orgasm one more time while he heaved with grief and ecstasy.
"I want you to clean up your mess before you leave," she instructed, "There's a sink over there. I want this floor immaculate. Is that clear?"
Neil had his eyes closed, squeezing the tears out, and he moved his head in affirmation.
"Good," she said, "Now I am going to release you and you may go until I need you again." Slowly and methodically she undid the buckles and straps that held him firm, lower body first. She had worked her way up to his shoulders when she stopped and locked a tight-linked chain, with links about a quarter inch in length around his neck. There was a long loose end to the chain with an unknown purpose dangling menacingly to the floor. The release of his restraints continued. Finally she told him to stand up and he did so, somewhat unsteadily, his buttocks pulling with agony at the broken flesh, his mouth still gagged, and as he fought for consciousness the loose end of the chain was wrapped around behind his testicles and penis and locked in place. His neck was now bound to his genitals, and with every movement of his head he felt the tug between his legs. She removed the gag but he was still speechless.
He stood there wobbling in place while Alena put a house-coat on at the far side of the room. The erotic was immediately replaced by the elegance and femininity. She walked to him with not a menacing smile this time, but a warm "I-like-you" smile. Her arms wrapped around him now, like a blanket in a cold room, and she cooed in his ear, "It's okay baby; it's okay. Go ahead and cry; it's okay."
He did. His shoulders heaved and she rubbed his back and said sweet nothings until he stopped, his arms squeezing her.
"Bend over the table and I'll put something on your wounds before you get dressed," she whispered. She pampered him then, washed him, bandaged him, gave him some pain pills and continued the sweet nothings. He could not speak. All he could do was "receive" from this woman; he could not give.
Neil got dressed and cleaned his mess, feeling utterly used up. A fantasy is much different after orgasm that before it. This was not an equal relationship, and he could never do this again, not with her, not with anyone.
She drove him home and dropped him off, kissing him sweetly on the cheek, saying, "I'll take you again next weekend sweetie."
His first words in a long while, "No, no, I don't think so. Sorry, I can't do this." And he walked into the condo lobby and pressed the up arrow.
Alena watched him until he stepped onto the elevator. When he disappeared, she smiled, put the car in Drive and went home with a comfort born of sated hunger and the knowledge she would be sated again, like a tiger with a hidden carcass.
It wasn't until he went to bed and removed his clothes that he remembered the chain. It was durable and not readily removable. Just before he drifted off in exhaustion, he made a mental note to get some bolt cutters tomorrow and try to remove it.
