"Please, no, Mistress," I begged.
A dark delight simmered in her eyes as she closed the distance between her and my naked body bent over the kitchen table. The redness of my ass cheeks was slowly starting to fade, but I knew my punishment wasn't yet over. And I knew that I wouldn't get off easy either.
For the fourth time this month, Mistress had returned home to a kitchen sink full of dirty dishes. Moreover, today's incident came at the heels of a dozen or so similar incidents over the past few months. Mistress wasn't in a forgiving mood.
"Why not?" she countered. Her hands ostensibly glided up my right arm until they reached the sleek, red button on my collar. "I thought you liked being shrunk down to an inch--feeling all tiny and helpless in Mistress' hands?" she continued in a saccharine voice.
She wasn't exactly wrong.
The truth is that I have had a love-hate relationship with the Miniaturizer device ever since Mistress had purchased it last summer. The Miniaturizer was a sleek contraption that looked and functioned like a typical steel bondage collar, except for a tiny red button. Once calibrated to the slave's body, a short button press would shrink the wearer to as small as one inch.
I must admit that after the initial shock of being shrunk wore off, I liked being shrunk in size and carried around by her. "Just like a kitten," she'd say as she'd carry me around in her shirt pocket while she went about her daily activities. Being small felt comforting, cozy, and I felt close to Mistress.
But I had never been punished after being shrunk.
Certain features of the Miniaturizer made this a daunting prospect. Because the number of nerve endings in the slave's body remained the same after shrinkage, all sensations were magnified. This was, in fact, one of the major selling points of the Miniaturizer for the Mistresses and Masters--they could intensify any sensation they wanted to inflict on their slaves without increasing the effort required. Needless to say, this was also why slaves dreaded being punished or disciplined after being shrunk.
I could feel a pit of anxiety forming in my stomach.
"I think 8 inches would be a good height, wouldn't it? At least, for the activities I've planned for you tonight..." Mistress' voice trailed off as her finger drew light, intentional circles around the red button.
##
Every person reacts differently to being shrunk. My typical initial reaction is to try to escape and hide. Being so tiny in a world designed for humans ten times one's size was viscerally terrifying, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never control my panicked response.
So when I woke up on the kitchen table, naked and 8 inches tall, I tried to bolt.
Mistress found my futile and pathetic attempts at escape amusing. Her laughter rang across the room as she watched me scuttle from one end of the kitchen table to the other, trying in vain to maneuver the 4-foot drop to the ground around the edges.
"There's nowhere to hide, slave," she mocked as she scooped me up in her fist and brought me up close to her face, "You realize you can't run away, don't you?" she snarled.
"Yes, Mistress," I squeaked, my shriveled vocal cords struggled to produce adequate sound.
"Hold still," she ordered as she caressed my tiny face with her long nails, gently pressing into the soft flesh just hard enough to elicit intermittent gasps.
My breathing slowed as I focused on the sensations she created on my skin. I felt my nervous system begin to settle.
When she was convinced I was adequately calm, she grabbed both my wrists between her left index finger and thumb and brought them above my head until I dangled helplessly a foot above the table. My feet reflexively kicked from side to side, searching for something to support themselves, but found only air.
"Now for the fun part," Mistress smiled.
She reached over and picked up a thin wooden chopstick with her right hand.
"I wonder how it feels to be tickled when you're that tiny," she mused as she gently scratched my exposed armpits with the tips of the chopstick.
My tiny body erupted in laughter.
"This is so much fun, isn't it slave?" Mistress mused as my body convulsed in waves of laughter till I could not breathe. Being shrunk amplified the sensations multiple times over. It felt like a dozen slender fingers were dancing in my armpits.
"No, please, please, Mistress, no more," I begged, my voice barely audible as I gasped for air.
"More? Did you say more? Ask, and you shall receive," Mistress teased, as she began tickling my ribs with the chopstick.
I contorted my body, lifting my legs to my chest to hide my vulnerable ribs from her relentless tickling. But, I failed to realize that in doing so, I had inadvertently exposed my sensitive cunt and asshole to her ministrations.
Not one to let the opportunity slip, Mistress quickly switched the chopstick in her hand for a paintbrush and attacked my sensitive, vulnerable regions in tiny circular motions, sending jolts of painful pleasure through my body.
The sensations were so overwhelming that despite my better knowledge, I instinctively closed my legs.
And that was a colossal mistake.
The number one rule Mistress had established early in our relationship was that slaves don't deny Mistress access to their genitals under any circumstances. Mistress had instilled in me that such actions amounted to questioning Mistress' authority and would result in severe punishments.
I immediately attempted to rectify my mistake by invitingly lifting my legs as high in the air as I could and spreading them as wide as I could.
"I'm sorry, Mistress, I'm so sorry, Mistress," I begged for forgiveness. But it was too late, the transgression had already been noticed.
"You know better than this slave." Her voice was tinged with disappointment as she laid me down flat on my back on the table.
When I heard the disappointment in her voice, the gravity of the situation finally hit me. I realized that the pain of the punishment, as unpleasant as it was, wasn't what I really should be concerned about. What truly mattered was the pain of disappointing her. And I shouldn't be doing the dishes out of fear of punishment; I should be doing them to ensure she comes home to a clean and welcoming apartment. Any punishment she gave was simply her way of helping me become a better slave.
Tears stung the corners of my eyes as I looked up at Mistress.
"Yes, Mistress, please punish me, Mistress," I begged sincerely.
At ten times my size, she filled my entire vision. She could easily cause me severe harm if she chose to, and the thought both scared and aroused me. A slight flick of her finger at the right spot on my body could knock me unconscious; even the faintest tightening of her grip around my neck could choke the life out of me. At the moment, she was my God--my Judge, Jury, and Executioner. I was just a tiny, insignificant creature at her mercy, and the only freedom I had was to obey her unquestioningly.
Mistress could sense the attitude shift in me. A smirk crept across her face. "You're learning your lesson, now, aren't you, slave?" she asked as she placed a box of small black rubber bands on the table.
People, in general, tend to underestimate the amount of pain a rubber band snapped across the human skin can cause, even on full-sized slaves. And it hurt much, much more when the slave is shrunk.
Mistress slid five rubber bands up my legs and arms and two larger ones across my torso. Then, she tied my limbs to the four corners of the dining table with a rope. Grabbing a wooden fork from the cutlery drawer, she began the torment. One by one, she slid the fork tines under the rubber band, pulled upwards, stretching it as far as it would go, and then let go, snapping it back on my tender, sensitive flesh.
"Keep count," Mistress ordered.
Snaaaaaapp! "Oww.... One, thank you, Mistress," I thrashed wildly against my bonds. My right thigh felt like it was on fire.
Snaaaaaaap! "Arghhh... Two, thank you, Mistress." Streaks of red hot pain shot through my left arm.
Snaaaaaaaaap! "Three, thank you, Mistress." I gasped as I tried to shake off the pain coursing through my right arm.
"Please, Mistress, please, it hurts so much," I begged, tears flowing freely now, but Mistress paid no heed to my pleas.
Snaaaaaaaap! "Four, thank you, Mistres. Please, please Mistress" I begged in between tears.
Mistress paused and, with a devilish smile, said, "If this hurts too much, maybe I should punish your tits now," and began to prod my tits with the tines of the fork.
"Ow, ow, ow! No, Mistress, please, no!" I mustered all strength I could in my tired vocal cords and tried to scream. However, the sound that emerged was a gasp barely above a whisper.
"Okay then, back to the rubber bands it is," Mistress said as she snapped the rubberband across my belly.
"Unnnnnngggghhhhhhh," I gritted my teeth as a fireball coursed across my torso, "Five, thank you, Mistress."
I counted aloud until twenty, after which I could no longer form words. My entire body felt under fire. I continued to beg incoherently, my voice barely audible, "Please, Mistress, mercy, Mistress," but I wasn't sure if she even heard it.
##
It took me a while to realize that the torment had stopped and was untying my legs. I hoped this was the end of the ordeal, but deep down, I knew that more punishment was coming. Mistress was determined to make this a lesson I didn't forget easily.
"That was the punishment for denying me access to your cunt, slave. And now we return to the original punishment for not doing the dishes," Mistress announced.
She lifted my legs and tied them over my head, spreading them as far as they'd go. I knew what was coming next when she picked up the paintbrush.
"Please, Mistress, please." Tears flowed freely down my cheeks. Any sort of genital stimulation on a shrunken slave was intensely unpleasant. The shrinkage caused the clitoral, vaginal, and anal nerve endings to fuse into a hyper-sensitive ball. A mere touch to the region was enough to make a slave soaking wet. Moreover, science couldn't yet explain why, while it was so easy to arouse a shrunken slave to the brink of an orgasm, it was practically impossible for them to actually cross the edge and cum. So, the unfortunate slave was stuck in a purgatory at the cusp of ecstasy for as long as their Mistress or Master wanted.
